Page 50 of Better Off Wed

He did not descend via the servants’ stair, but took the more public route, striding along the corridor to the grand staircase at the center of the house. He found the library, empty of their host. Grateful for the solitude, he stepped to the desk, took up the nearest sheet of blank paper, dipped a pen in the salacious inkwell, and set out to write a note of explanation.

The first drop of ink revealed the page had not been blank. Blackness seeped into the fibers of the paper, filling in around the lines made by the colorless liquid with which the letter had been written. Letters, fragments of words, took shape:

Dea

The

a ba

E

Jeremy’s heart began to thud, loudly enough that he almost missed the approach of footsteps. Quickly, he blew on the page to dry the blot of ink, then folded the letter and stuffed it in his breast pocket alongside the notes from The Noble Game of Chess.

By the time the earl reached the threshold, Jeremy was striding toward him. “There you are, Thornton. I thought I’d find you here. I’m sorry to say that my shrew of a wife demands to leave this very moment, and I must ask you to make good on your offer of the loan of your traveling coach.”

Thornton arched one brow. “What did I say about teaching her to know her master, Sterling? You young pups will be henpecked to death if you refuse to heed the voice of experience.”

“Believe me, sir, I have taken your words to heart,” Jeremy insisted. “I intend to take her back to town until Everham can be transformed into a suitable prison. She’ll learn her lesson, I think, with no company and no entertainments.”

“No company? Barring the occasional conjugal visit, I assume?” Thornton asked, leering.

“If the work of the past two nights proves insufficient,” Jeremy agreed with a bitter sort of laugh and shrugged. “One must have an heir.”

Thornton joined in the laughter, clapping Jeremy’s shoulder. “I would tell you to send her and stay yourself, but…

“Lady Sterling is not to be trusted,” Jeremy finished for him.

“Ah, well. You are welcome to return with the coach, if you wish, and join me and my friends. After a journey like that, you will be sorely in need of rational company.”

Jeremy knew full well the sort of company in which he would have found himself had he stayed, and rational was the last word he would have used to describe it. “A generous offer, Thornton.” He paused, as if weighing the matter. “I would not wish to delay your servants. But I suppose I might leave her under the supervision of some trusted friends. Yes, I think I shall come back to Thornton Hall, as quickly as I can make arrangements.”

Arrangements for sufficient men and arms to arrest a traitor.

“Very good, Sterling,” Thornton said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before releasing him. The papers in his pocket crinkled beneath the press of the other man’s thumb, but the earl evidently did not notice, or if he did, the sound did not raise his curiosity. “I’ll order the coach brought round.”

“I’m in your debt, sir.” Jeremy bowed and walked from the room at a leisurely pace.

Had he given Phelps enough time to tend to Laura’s ankle? Given Lady Thornton enough time to fuss and exclaim and generally alert the household to the latest gossip about their guests, as Laura must have hoped when invoking that play? At the far end of the corridor, he thought he saw Dinah scurry through the door to the servants’ stair, perhaps on her way to pack their meager belongings. After a count of ten, he followed her.

The stairwell was nearly as shadowy as it had been last night, and he thought of how he’d carried Laura up and down these steep, well-worn steps, little imagining—

No. In the privacy of his thoughts, he surely did not have to lie. He had been imagining what it would be like to kiss Laura the very first time he’d put his arms around her.

Well, perhaps not the first time, at Vauxhall, when she had run pell-mell into him in the dark. Then, he’d fancied he was only doing a good deed, helping some poor young woman who’d got herself into the hands of the wrong man.

Had she ended up in the arms of the right one?

General Scott would surely say yes. Jeremy still had his doubts.

Footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and he pressed himself against the wall to allow the servant coming down to pass unimpeded. But as luck would have it, the light tread belonged to Miss Godfrey, who was descending from the schoolroom.

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest when she spied him. “Lord Sterling. What a fright you gave me. I didn’t expect to see you on the servants’ stair.”

“It is the quickest route to the blue room, as you most helpfully pointed out on the night of our arrival. And I’m glad we’ve met here,” he went on, lowering his voice even further, “for there’s something Lady Sterling would wish you to know. We’re leaving for London as soon as the coach can be got ready.”

“Leaving?” Her fingers curled convulsively, wrinkling her fichu. “But what of Lord Thornton—? And his guests—?”

“We have a plan, never fear. I hope to be back before the other…gentlemen arrive, and once I return, you will be perfectly safe. He will not be at liberty to harm you or anyone else. But between now and then, look sharp.” He offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep that hat pin to hand.”