Page 72 of An Unexpected Earl

He watched grimly as she glanced over her shoulder at the dark, empty street before letting herself into the shop. “No.”

“She lied to you, you know. She has no intention of leaving Varnham alone.”

“I know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“If you race the devil for your soul,” he murmured, “you’d damned well better win.”

“Pardon?”

Pearce cast him a determined glance. “I’m going to beat her to him.”

* * *

Pearce placed his hat and coat into the attendant’s arms as he strode through the front door of Boodle’s that afternoon, then slapped him in the chest with his gloves as he handed them over. He didn’t have membership here. Wasn’t on the guest list. And didn’t give a damn. The attendant was wise enough not to stop him. So was the club manager as the man nodded his greetings and let Pearce pass. Being an earl had its privileges.

He strode into the dining room, raising eyebrows of the members scattered at the tables. He didn’t give a damn about them either.

He had one reason for being here, and it wasn’t to play nicely with others—

Howard.

Amelia’s brother sat at a small table in the corner, where he was lunching on a plate of roast pheasant and chatting with two of his cronies. Pearce stalked toward him, halting conversation at every table he passed and trailing whispers in his wake.

The man looked up, just as startled as everyone else in the club to see him there. “Sandhurst.” Surprise lightened his voice. “How pleasant to—”

“I want a word with you.” He narrowed his eyes at the two men flanking Howard. “In private.”

“Of course.” He smiled apologetically at his chums. “If you might leave us for a moment?”

The men rose from their chairs, not giving Pearce another look as they left the room to wait in the bar.

“Boodle’s,” Pearce muttered as he sat heavily on the chair opposite Howard and pushed the previous man’s half-finished plate away. He made a disinterested gesture at the club around them. “I’m surprised that a man of your political ambitions isn’t entrenched in Brooks’s. Thatiswhere the Whigs live these days.”

Howard leaned back in his chair with a twist of a smile. “My allegiance is to my country, not to a club or even to one political party.”

Pearce chuckled darkly. “I didn’t think you had allegiance to anyone but yourself.”

Amelia’s brother merely shrugged, not feeling the sting of that insult. “A man has to look after himself these days.” He reached for his port. “He’d be a fool not to.”

“And your sister, don’t forget. You look after her, too.”

He lifted the glass in a toast. “Above all else.”

Pearce longed to slam his fist into the man’s face. Instead, he smiled tightly. “Good. Then we’re in agreement that Miss Howard’s interests should be taken into consideration when it comes to the turnpike.”

Howard nearly spilled his port. “Pardon?”

“Last night, after we spoke at the ball, I had the chance to spend time with your sister.” Time that he would never forget. “We discussed Bradenhill.” Among other things. “She’s concerned about losing control of her property, that the trustees will put their interests above hers. I assured her that I would protect her.” He fixed his gaze on Howard. “Always.”

“Then—” Howard lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You’ve come to a decision regarding the trust?”

“I have.” He waved away the waiter when the man came forward to take his lunch order. He had no appetite. “I’m all in for the project.”

A wide smile broke across Howard’s face. “That’s wond—”

“But I don’t want to wait. I want to move ahead at full speed, to make certain the trust passes through Parliament before the current session closes.”