An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,100

scream, Amelia ran back inside the house. “Maggie!” She hurried to her room, ignoring the bewildered stare of Drummond, who had finally come to the front door to investigate the commotion. “Maggie, I need you!”

Amelia threw open the doors to her armoire and grabbed the first day dress she found.

“Miss, what on earth…?” Maggie halted in the open doorway and gaped.

“I have to dress—quickly.” She yanked open the drawer and reached for a shift, tossing both it and the dress over the back of a nearby chair. “Frederick’s been arrested.”

Her maid closed the door and whispered, “Sir Charles?”

Amelia nodded firmly with a bite to her lip. “Just now.”

“What are you going to do?” Maggie wrung her hands as she came forward.

“I’m going to speak to Sir Charles.” When she reached for a corset, Maggie stopped her and selected a different one, along with a pair of stockings. “Make him understand that no good can come from prosecuting Freddie, that he’ll only be hurting me and a group of innocent women.” She frowned as she removed her dressing gown. “And when that doesn’t work, I’ll throw myself at his feet and beg.”

“And when that doesn’t work?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I won’t give up.”

Within minutes, Maggie had dressed her and fixed her hair in a simple but presentable chignon. Amelia hopped across the room toward her writing desk on one foot at a time as she pulled on a pair of half boots while Maggie went to ask Drummond to fetch a hackney. Amelia quickly scribbled out a note for Pearce, then sealed it.

“Deliver this to Lord Sandhurst.” She handed Maggie the note as she snatched up her shawl and dashed for the door. “His town house is on St James’s Square. If he isn’t there, try the old armory north of the City. I’m certain that his man McTavish can give you directions.”

Maggie shot her a worried look and grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t go alone, miss. Sir Charles might decide you’re a party to what Mr. Howard’s done and have you arrested, too.”

“Which is why you have to deliver that message to Pearce. He’ll meet me in Westminster and know what to do.”

With a quick hug ending all protests, Amelia rushed from the house. Only to halt on the front step.

A black hackney waited on the street, its old driver doffing his hat at her as she slowly came forward. For a moment, she thought Drummond had worked quickly to find her a carriage—unusually quickly for a butler who favored laziness.

But then she noticed that the carriage wasn’t empty. Two people sat inside in the shadows, just out of view of the window. Wasn’t that just her luck, for the carriage to be already taken? With Drummond nowhere to be seen, she gave a frustrated curse beneath her breath and hurried down the footpath toward the square, where she could more easily wave down a hackney.

“Miss Howard!”

She stopped, startled, as a man called out to her from the waiting carriage.

“A word with you, if you please.”

Slowly, she retraced her steps. The carriage door opened, and she could see inside.

“Mr. Varnham.” But her heart plunged to the ground. Arthur Varnham. The wrong Varnham. “If you’ll excuse me.” She gestured apologetically down the street. “I’m in a hurry—”

“Miss Howard”—he ignored her attempt to leave—“I’d like to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Humphries. Marigold, this is Miss Howard, the woman I told you about.”

Miss Humphries leaned forward from the opposite bench, her pretty and young face emerging into the slant of sunlight that fell into the compartment. The curls of her hair beneath her straw bonnet shone gold. She smiled warmly. “How do you do, Miss Howard?”

Not well. Not well at all. Anxiousness bubbled inside her until what she wanted to do was bolt down the street at a dead run. “A pleasure to meet you. But I really must go. It’s urgent.” She turned to leave, not caring if she were being rude. Her world was collapsing around her. “My apologies—”

“It’s your brother, isn’t it?” Varnham asked.

That stopped her. “Yes.” She looked at him warily over her shoulder. “How do you know?”

“Because I just left Varnham House.” Irritation rang in his voice. “Imagine my surprise to come home from a night out at the clubs to discover that my brother plans to arrest yours.” The shadows covered his face too thickly for her to read the emotions there, but raw frustration colored his voice. “I immediately came