Tenacious Trents 01 - A Misguided Lord Read online

  Well, if one was to find a bride, this was the perfect place. Dozens of young ladies danced below. He focused on the debutants dressed in the palest of colors from a balcony overlooking the ballroom as society carried on as it had done for years. He’d had his fill of batting eyelashes, pouty lips and giggles and wondered if there was a lady in the bunch who could carry on a simple conversation without flirting.

  The newest lady caught his attention once again. His eyes kept returning to her since their earlier encounter, and she had rarely left the side of Lord and Lady Stanhope. Was she a relation or was Lady Stanhope simply sponsoring her? Not that Clay could guess her age, but the woman was a few years past what should have been her first season so where had she come from?

  Even from this distance he could see her brown eyes spark with humor and an easy smile came to her full lips. Why had he been so rude to her? He was the one who had stepped into her path. He should have seen her. The top of the young woman’s head barely came to his chin and no doubt she was lucky not to have been trampled before their encounter. The ballroom was a crush and there would certainly be a number of bruised toes before the night ended. As it was, Clay decided to remain on the balcony, away from the throng of people below.

  Who was she and should he apologize? Of course he should, but Clay knew nothing about the woman, except that his eyes were drawn to her every five minutes. Perhaps it was the simple contact of their bodies. He hadn’t held a woman in months and her soft breasts pressed against his chest was an almost foreign feeling. His body had heated immediately and it took all his energy to keep his hands at her elbows when he wanted to slide them up her arms and draw her close.

  What had gotten into him? He had never reacted so quickly to a woman before and he didn’t even know the lady, yet her warm breath and sweet scent reminded him of springtime. It had lingered about them and stirred something within. Almost a longing, and completely unexplainable. Clay couldn’t even think of a flower the perfume reminded him of, just that it brought forth fond memories from long ago.

  Adele! She smelled like Adele. Clay’s eyes narrowed on the young woman. In fact, much of her reminded him of Adele, his father’s second wife. Though he was only a boy of ten when the woman left, only to be killed, he recalled her as if they had spoken yesterday.

  Not only was the scent the same, but her easy mannerisms as she spoke, gesturing to make a point or explain. Gentlemen had surrounded her like moths to a flame. It wasn’t that she was a beauty, though the young woman was pretty enough. It was something she projected. Her laugh was quick and easy and her movements more free than others. The tinkle of her laughter drifted up toward him and Clay was forced to block out the memory of the woman who had abandoned four small boys.

  Despite his sudden attraction, it was best to put her from his mind. He knew the heartache his family had suffered because of a woman like her and he would not repeat past mistakes.

  Clay forced his eyes away and studied each lady in the room. There had to be someone here he could consider for his wife. The quicker he was done with his business the sooner he could get back to running the family estates and managing their business ventures and investments. It was simply a matter of priorities and responsibility and as soon as the goal of finding a wife was accomplished he could focus on the duties that came with his title.

  In the far corner was a young woman, blond hair piled upon her head, ringlets falling to her shoulders. Her eyes remained downcast, a slight smile on her lips. A blush stained her cheeks when Lord Averton said something to her. Clay racked his brain for a name. Oh yes, Lady Anne Houghton. This was her second season. She was a young woman who rarely left the side of one of her parents. Yes, she was the one. That was the woman he would marry.

  Chapter 2

  Eleanor settled into the carriage beside her grandmother. As they moved into traffic Eleanor stifled a yawn behind her gloved hand. Goodness, she couldn’t continue to keep these hours. When would she see the children? As it was, she had to be awake, dressed and on her way to the little house they rented in five hours.

  “You will get used to it,” her grandmother assured. “I don’t rise before noon during the Season. It is the only way one can go on.”

  Noon? She hadn’t slept that late in years, if ever. Half the day was gone by that time.

  “Listen to your grandmother. She knows how to go about.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eleanor replied dutifully. Either they forgot, or simply ignored the fact that she was responsible for her siblings, the very siblings not allowed to stay in the town home because they weren’t blood relation and were beneath the earl’s notice.

  Anger bubbled up in her and Eleanor squelched it. Time. All she needed was time. Then she could marry and be away from this horrible city, and never have to speak with her grandfather again.

  “Tomorrow we have a musical and another ball,” her grandmother reminded.

  Eleanor nodded and tried not to yawn again. If they were in the carriage much longer she would fall asleep.

  “We have at least two events every night this week so make sure you don’t overtax yourself with other, well, um, other matters.”

  “You mean my brothers and sisters,” Eleanor bit out.

  “You really should have left them at home for someone else to watch over,” her grandfather insisted.

  “There is no one else, as you well know, and they are too young to remain alone.”

  “Well, don’t waste all of your time with them. You need a husband.”

  He needn’t remind her. But, was there a man who would take on four siblings as well as a wife?

  *

  Clayton handed his overcoat, beaver hat and cane to the butler.

  “You have guests, Lord Bentley.”

  At this hour? “Who would call at midnight?” Clay had left the Pranth’s ball after gaining an introduction to Lady Anne and sharing a dance. Now all he wanted to do was crawl in bed to sleep. He spent most of the night watching Lady Anne and trying not to watch the young woman beside Stanhope.

  “Your brother.” The butler frowned.

  It must be Jordan.

  “And his wife. They have been here for two hours.”

  “Wife?”

  “Yes, Lord Bentley.”

  Clayton strode to the parlor. What was John doing here now? Unless Jordan or Matthew had managed to get married without telling him.

  He stepped inside the room. John, his youngest brother lounged in a chair beside the fire, cradling a glass of brandy. His beautiful bride of three months sat in the opposite seat. She bit her lip and watched him expectantly with her large blue eyes. He could see why John had been taken with Elizabeth Whitton. Though he still did not know the particulars, John had managed to marry into an influential and wealthy family. There were few with as much power as the Duke of Danby.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to bother speaking to me again,” Clayton asked. The two had not spoken in over four years. Not since John went off to the Continent to do who knows what. John had managed to see father before he died, and came to the funeral, but the two brothers had not spoken. His wife had not accompanied John to the house and this was the first time Clay had actually seen her.

  “My wife insisted and is much put out with me.”

  Clayton snorted. “You haven’t been married all that long and already you are in trouble.”

  John grinned at him. “She doesn’t stay angry long.”

  “Are you going to bother to introduce us?” Really, had John lost all civility and manners jaunting around France, Italy and Spain?

  “Elizabeth, I would like to introduce you to my brother, Clayton Trent, the Earl of Bentley.”

  She stood, a slight blush coming to her cheeks and dipped into a quick curtsy. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  Even if his brother lacked any form of respectability, Clayton did not. He bowed before her. “Welcome to the family.”

  She settled back into her seat, look
ed over at John and narrowed her eyes. He sighed and stood. “My wife believes I owe you an apology.”

  Clayton took a step back. John owed him, and the family, much more for disappearing and causing their step-mother and their father to worry for the past four years.

  John walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy before he handed it to Clayton. “Here, have a seat. You may need it.”

  Clayton took the glass and a deep breath and did as John suggested. Who knew what his wayward brother had been up to since they last spoke.

  “The reason I went to France is not what you think,” John began.

  “I knew there was a duel involved.” Clay shook his head in disapproval. “Father must have kept it quiet.”

  John stood and slammed his glass down. “I told you he wouldn’t listen. Always judging. Just like Father. Sanctimonious pr—.”

  “Jean.”

  Clayton focused on Elizabeth. How did she just address his brother?

  “Everything is black and white to you, isn’t it? Did it ever occur to you that things may not be as they seem? That there may be something else going on of which you are not aware? That people are not good or bad, but could be a little of both?”

  “Never mind.” Clay stood. “I am too tired and don’t wish to repeat the same arguments. For the record, things and people are exactly as they seem and you are far more trusting than I.”

  “Please.” Elizabeth stood. “Let him explain.”

  Clayton sighed. It was not well done of him to raise his voice in the presence of John’s wife.

  John took a deep breath. “I would appreciate it if you would let me explain without comment. When I am finished, feel free to point out my failures. As father is gone, someone must, and you are so like him.”

  Those words stung. Clay didn’t want to be like his father, but the man had trained him to be the earl, to take over the family and know his duty. He didn’t like being so cold or judgmental, yet that was the only way to manage the estates and everything around him. Emotional involvement and relationships, especially with women, lead to strife. And, he had the scars, inside and out, to prove it. Father had taught him well.

  “Very well.” Clayton vowed to hold his tongue until his brother was finished. If anything, it would probably be interesting. As trouble followed John most of his life, or John found trouble, no doubt the past four years had been eventful. “Go on.” They both settled back into their seats.

  “I was sent to France by the Home Office.”

  Clayton sat forward. “Pardon?”

  “The Home Office,” John repeated. “While visiting with a friend, who for obvious reasons I can’t name, I helped him with a puzzle. It turned out to be a code that he was struggling with.”

  Clayton sipped the warm liquid, his interest engaged. John had always been good with figuring out the impossible.

  “The Home Office learned I unraveled the code. They reviewed my school transcripts and found out I am good with languages and asked me to come work for them.”

  Clayton looked from John to Elizabeth and back again. Could he believe him? Yet, John had never lied to him before. As much as they disagreed and hadn’t gotten along, his brother was truthful. “Did Father know?”

  “I told him after I returned.” John took a drink. “He and Rose knew before he died.”

  “Did he forgive you for not telling him?”

  John chuckled. “Reluctantly.”

  “I am assuming you are done with this, whatever it was you were doing.” He gestured about, not sure if he should actually use the word spy since John had not admitted to exactly what he was doing. His brother had a wife now and needed to be more responsible and what he had been doing was far too dangerous for a man with responsibilities.

  John and his wife shared a look.

  “Actually,” Elizabeth began, and then paused for a moment. “I am asking you not to tell anyone what we are sharing with you.”

  “Of course.” If anything, Clay kept secrets.

  “And we are not done.”

  “We?” Surely this lovely woman wasn’t a spy as well. She was the granddaughter of the Duke of Danby. Someone with such high connections did not become a spy, especially a lady.

  John laughed. “I hope I can remember this look on your face.”

  “You have to admit, it is a bit hard to believe,” Clay insisted.

  “It is,” Elizabeth agreed.

  The import of what John was telling him began to sink in and Clay drained his glass and stood to refill it. “Can you divulge where you were, what you were doing, and how you met your wife?”

  “Only because I know you will never tell.” The brothers’ eyes met and held for a moment. They may have not gotten along most of their lives but they did trust the other enough to hold a confidence and protect each other.

  Clay poured more brandy into his glass than normal and returned to his seat.

  “I worked in the stables at Tuileries.”

  The liquid burned his throat when he coughed. Leave it to John to wait for the perfect moment to tell him this bit of information. “As in Napoleon’s palace?”

  His brother grinned. “The very one, for the past three years.”

  Clay’s mind couldn’t grasp what his brother was telling him. It was too unbelievable. “How did you meet your wife?”

  “I was a house maid.”

  “At Tuileries?” Clay asked slowly.

  “Yes. For two years.”

  His mind was reeling. Perhaps he should stop drinking and focus on his brother. Was this a joke?

  “Shortly before Christmas we were discovered and Lisette and I had to escape France.”

  “Lisette?”

  Elizabeth grinned and shrugged.

  “And you?”

  “Jean Pierre.”

  The chuckle bubbled up. He hadn’t laughed in a very long time. “I would have loved to have seen you taking orders and mucking out stalls.”

  “I am sure you would,” John answered dryly.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat and John sighed deeply. “I also have another apology.”

  What now? What else could there be?

  “I told Elizabeth about our family.”

  Clayton stiffened. Surely he didn’t mention their other step-mother and first sister. That was a scandal not to be mentioned ever. Nobody knew the woman had been running away from her husband when they were killed.

  “I told her I had two brothers and one sister.”

  “You have three brothers.”

  “I know. But, your last words to me before I left were that I was dead to you. So, you were dead to me.”

  Clayton remembered yelling those words at John as he marched out the door to go play in Europe. He regretted them in the days to follow, not that he ever admitted it to anyone. “I am sorry.”

  “So am I.” John glanced at his wife for but a moment before he focused back on Clay. “But, it helped. When I wondered what the hell I was doing, during some of the more dangerous times, I remembered your words, your tone, and became angry again. I needed to prove to you, to Father and to myself that I was not an incompetent, useless son.”

  That is what Father had bellowed to John’s retreating back that last day. If only they had known the truth then.

  “I am glad you are home, at least for now.” In that he was sincere. Until this moment he had not realized how much he missed having John around, even if they didn’t get on well. But he couldn’t fault him for what he had been doing. “Will you be staying in London? There is plenty of room here.”

  “No.” John shook his head. “We will attend a few balls this week but then we are returning to the country. Do you mind if we reside at Bentley Manor until we are sent somewhere else?”

  “You are welcome to stay anywhere. It is your home as well.” A pang of disappointment struck Clay. It would have been nice to have John and Elizabeth around for a bit. Maybe now that they had both matured, and he knew the truth of what his b
rother had been up to, their relationship wouldn’t be so strained. Besides, this town home was quiet and lonely. Jordan kept to his bachelor apartments, even though he could stay here, and Matthew was traveling until his duties as a vicar in a new parish begin.

  “So, now that you are head of the family, what are you going to do?”

  Unfortunately, John reminded him of the one problem still hanging over his head and one that needed to be dealt with, if he could find the right person. “Find a wife, I suppose.”

  “Have you met the paragon who will become your countess?” John asked with a grin.

  The vision of the young woman who bumped into him flashed through Clay’s mind. He could almost smell her sweet scent. He blocked the image and concentrated on Lady Anne. He already knew her character, or thought he did, and she was everything he wanted. “I am considering courting Lady Anne Houghton.”

  “We made her acquaintance earlier in the week.” John nodded. “She is lovely.”

  Her appearance is not what mattered. “She is quiet, dutiful to her parents and unassuming. Those are the qualities I am looking for.”

  John raised an eyebrow. He should have known his younger brother wouldn’t understand. He had married a spy. But, he also didn’t have the same responsibilities on his shoulders. Clay couldn’t afford to follow his heart, if he even had one any longer. No, he must decide on a wife the way he did when making all decisions. What is best for the family and earldom is the only thing that matters. And a woman who smelled of springtime and laughed easily was not it.

  Chapter 3

  Clayton glanced down at Lady Anne and tried to convince himself she would make the perfect wife. So far, she had spoken only when spoken to or to answer a question. Her eyes were fixed ahead as they walked through Hyde Park, gloved hand resting lightly on his arm. Her appearance was perfection from her golden curls, to the unblemished, porcelain complexion. Even the wind today didn’t muss her hair, as if it didn’t dare touch her lovely skin or rearrange a cascading curl.