The Earl's Secret

Nathaniel did not refuse, exactly, but offered no enthusiasm or resistance to his greeting. Watching the man closely now, Anna was certain she glimpsed some devilish enjoyment in his gaze at Nathaniel’s obvious discomfort.

“Ah,” Nathaniel finally mumbled as he shook the man’s hand and then tried to release it. “My…my…” he stuttered.

“Mr. David Archer, at your service,” the man replied, still grasping Nathaniel’s hand.

A gentleman only? Not a nobleman? Glancing at him, she noticed the expensive material and fine cut of his coat and boots, the well-groomed appearance and haughty bearing. Surprised at her misjudgment, Anna waited to learn more.

“My memory failed me, sir. Forgive me,” Nathaniel said. Realizing that she was still in the room, he turned and began to introduce her. “And this is…”

“Miss Anna Fairchild,” Mr. Archer said. “We have met already. Since Miss Fairchild has another commitment, I would suggest we allow her to leave.”

The dismissal, bordering on curt, was however accomplished very smoothly. Now that her escape was assured, Anna realized she did not wish to leave. Something was amiss here, for there was a strong and palpable ambient between this man and Nathaniel, and she wanted to know the truth of it. When Nathaniel did not voice an objection to her departure, she knew she would not be able to stay.

She would simply need to discover more about this man and this business he pursued when she dined with Nathaniel and Clarinda this evening. With his sister as her ally, Nathaniel would stand no chance of keeping secrets.

Mr. Archer’s disconcerting way of gazing at her, as though he could see and hear all her thoughts, convinced her of the wisdom in a strategic retreat. Glancing from one to the other, she noticed for the first time that they were opposites in many ways in appearance.

Nathaniel was tall and thin, with sea-green eyes and blond curls that made many a woman swoon. She knew because she had witnessed it many times—his angelic good looks and pleasing manners nearly defeated her own efforts to stay out of the bonds of marriage.

Mr. Archer would make women swoon, but she suspected that it would be in fear or from intimidation, for Anna could feel the effects of his intense blue gaze and muscular build on her own calm senses. Although his clothing was the height of fashion and design, he wore his light brown hair cut shorter than was the current rage. Somehow, though, it fit him, for attempts to soften his appearance with longer hair or the curling style that Nathaniel sported would have met with failure.

Lightness and darkness.

Angel and devil.

Nathaniel and Mr. David Archer.

Intrigued more than she would like to admit, Anna knew she must depart. “I will return at one, Mr. Hobbs-Smith.”

“Very good, Miss Fairchild.”

Anna closed the door and stood there waiting, impolite as such behavior was, to hear anything spoken between the two men. She wanted some clue as to their past acquaintance, as Mr. Archer referred to it, or to their business. When silence was the only answer, she glanced at the textbook in her hands and knew she would have to wait.

As she made her way to the school, she hoped and prayed that Nathaniel was not so jostled by this man’s arrival that he revealed too much to him. Nathaniel tended to become unnerved under too much pressure. They must stick to the story they’d concocted to cover the truth.

Too much and too many depended on it.

Chapter Four

David did not immediately meet Nathaniel’s gaze, his very stunned gaze, preferring to allow his old friend to stew in his own juices for a bit. Instead, he turned from watching the lovely young woman leave and walked over to the nearest set of bookshelves, pretending to examine several of the volumes stacked there. He fought the smile that threatened as the sound of Nathaniel’s shallow, nervous breathing became louder and unmistakable. When he deemed that enough time had passed and that Nathaniel was suitably ill at ease, David pivoted and faced him.

“Your venture seems to be quite profitable for you, Nathaniel.” He nodded at the impressive collection on the bookshelves that lined three walls of the office.

“Trey…I can explain—” he stuttered out.

“I would not have expected your father to support you in this endeavor,” David said, interrupting Nathaniel. “My father speaks highly of the baron’s Tory attitudes.”

“My father is extremely Tory in his attitudes until money is involved. Then he has little problem with his son being involved in industry.”

A certain bitterness filled Nathaniel’s voice as he answered, and David wondered at it. The Hobbs-Smiths would certainly not be the first family of noble origins to be punting in the River Tick. And that situation undoubtedly caused the baron to allow, or at least overlook, this endeavor of his son’s if it brought in funds or did not drain those already burdened. A sore subject for any man, so David changed it to one of a lighter nature.

“Who was that woman? Miss Fairchild?”

“Anna?”

Nathaniel’s cheeks colored as he spoke the woman’s name. Her first name. And spoke it as someone very familiar would say it. David observed his old friend as he appeared to search for an acceptable explanation.

“She—Miss Fairchild, rather—is an old schoolroom friend of my sister.”

Ah, completely acceptable but devoid of any reasons for the woman’s presence here and her sense of familiarity, even control, over this office.

“She, Miss Fairchild, seemed more a fixture than a visitor here. Does she hold a position with you?” David asked, allowing all the nuances of his words to strike Nathaniel. Although why he thought she might be someone in a more personal relationship with Nathaniel, he did not know. Something in the way she was uneasy with his presence. Something in the way she pursued her line of questioning as to his visit. Something in the way she moved about the room.

“Although it is not widely known, Trey, Miss Fairchild helps me with some of the articles in the Gazette. She is a teacher and has great skills in writing and editing.”

“So, she is your secretary then?”

While he waited on a reply, David walked over and sat down in the chair facing Nathaniel, who was now standing behind the desk. Then, he leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

“I am not certain what you are trying to insinuate about Miss Fairchild, but I do not appreciate your efforts to somehow besmirch her reputation because of her presence here.”

This was not the Nathaniel he remembered. This one was boldly standing up for a woman’s honor. Interesting.

“Consider your remonstration a success, Nate,” he said, nodding. “I am simply trying to ascertain who does what in your business so I know where to address my own complaints about a besmirched reputation.”

David was gifted with a rapid change in Nate’s appearance and behavior. He’d not seen a man faint in a very long time, but Nate appeared ready to do so. Then, in an instant, the man gathered himself together, stood and cleared his throat.

“I am in charge here and any compliments or complaints should come to me.”

Although the distance between them was only a yard or two, David felt as though he were facing Boney across the battlefield on the Continent. A definite chill fell between them and David wondered if he had misjudged his friend. Better to step back from the breach and approach it differently than to lose a battle so early in this engagement.

“Then I will address them to you if need be.” He stood, reached over to his hat for his gloves and pulled them on. Placing his hat under his arm, he casually said, “While I frame those possible complaints, you could give me Mr. Goodfellow’s directions if you would be so kind.”

“Mr. Goodfellow?”

“As his publisher, you must know where I can find the man.”

Nathaniel stuttered through several possible replies as David watched and then settled on one. “As I said, if you have a complaint, you may give it to me and I will see that it is handled.”

Collecting information was his first priority and David sensed that his attempts would now be unsuccessful. He nodded and strode to the door. “I will most certainly do that,” he began, pulling open the door. “I will call on you in a day or two to discuss our business.”

A few days and Nathaniel would be ready to babble. In their schooldays, he never performed well under pressure and so David did not doubt that he would be rattled enough from this encounter to allow some items about the elusive Mr. Goodfellow to escape. A few days and David would have a better idea of his opponent and how to undermine the fellow’s efforts in the press.

Lifting his hat and placing it low on his forehead, David turned away without another word and left the office without closing the door.

A few days and the information he sought would be his.

The Earl of Treybourne!