An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,105

he pounded them into the bags he used to keep his fighting edge. The sheen of sweat that glistened across his bare chest, shoulders, and arms gave testimony to how hard he’d been training. And how much of a threat he believed Scepter to be.

Pearce grimaced. “I have news to report.”

Clayton and Merritt exchanged troubled glances. They’d parted from him that morning just as dawn was breaking over the city and just after he’d gladly left the Hellfire club, when he’d shared with them what he’d learned, including a detailed description of the other three trustees. True to his word, Howard had introduced him to them, right after dinner and right before a dozen new nuns had descended into the underworld. After that, the meeting deteriorated into little more than an orgy. Feast of Venus, indeed.

Pearce had barely gotten two hours’ sleep when he was roused from bed by McTavish, with a note from Amelia delivered by her maid.

“Frederick Howard’s been arrested,” he informed all three men, instantly claiming their complete attention.

While they all stared at him silently, absorbing that information, he helped himself to a glass of cognac from the sideboard. One he desperately needed.

“I spent all morning trying to get him released. Nothing worked. He’s still in the New Prison.” Pearce splashed out the golden liquid, then put the stopper back into the crystal bottle with a small clink. “Sir Charles Varnham is determined not only to strip Howard of his seat in Parliament but also to see him either put into prison permanently or transported. I argued with him for two hours.”

He’d lingered so long with the man only because Amelia’s note said she was going to Westminster to confront him, and he wanted to be there when she arrived. But she never came. When he’d gone to the town house after her, Drummond informed him that she hadn’t yet returned. Most likely because she’d gone to the Inns of Court, desperate to hire a lawyer to defend a brother who didn’t deserve it.

Pearce tossed back a large swallow and welcomed the burn down his throat. “Varnham refuses to rescind the charges.”

Marcus said nothing as he shrugged into the shirt he’d left lying over the back of one of the leather sofas. If Howard had been anyone else, Pearce knew, the general might have offered to speak to Varnham himself and leverage his newfound ducal influence, if only for Amelia’s sake. But not when Howard’s connection to Scepter was still unknown.

“But those charges have nothing to do with how Howard was blackmailed,” Pearce added. “I’m certain of it.”

“Coincidence?” Clayton laid down his cue and came forward.

Pearce shrugged. “When you do as many illegal things as Howard, it’s only a matter of time until you get caught.” He dropped heavily onto a nearby settee. “I believe Varnham when he said that he’s pressing charges because he wants to rout out corruption in Parliament, that he discovered Howard’s illegal activities on his own. I don’t think he has anything to do with blackmail or even knew that it was happening.”

But his brother was a different matter.

Pearce frowned into his glass. How many men in those chambers last night belonged to Scepter? And where did Arthur Varnham fit into this?

“We can’t allow Frederick Howard to be put on trial,” Marcus said quietly as he fetched the decanter of cognac and a glass for himself. “If Howard testifies, he’ll try to use the blackmail as justification for his actions.”

“It’s the only viable defense he’ll have in the courtroom,” Merritt agreed. “But he’s damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, because that defense will also bring to light all the illegal things he’s done.”

“Potentially exposing his connection to Scepter in the process.” Marcus grimly filled his glass and set the decanter on the low table between the men. “So he either won’t say anything, in which case we’re right back where we started with no leads or new information—”

“Or he tells everything he knows, including about Scepter,” Pearce interjected, “and we’ll lose our advantage on them.”

“I can’t officially be part of this conversation,” Clayton reminded them, taking a seat across from Pearce. “If Howard’s committed crimes against the government, I’ll have to notify the Home Office.”

“And unofficially?” Merritt countered as he flopped onto the sofa next to Clayton.

“I’ll do everything I can to keep Howard from testifying,” he muttered, “including breaking him out of gaol myself, if necessary.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that.” Merritt passed up the cognac