An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,30

bringing her flowers and handmade gifts, teaching her how to shoot and ride and swim just like the boys, talking with her on blankets beneath the stars about all his future dreams. Her best friend and first love who went so far as to defend her with his fists when other men made crude comments about her—men twice his size and age. He knew her better than anyone else in the world, even her own family.

But twelve years… Was any of the boy she’d once trusted still left inside the man?

Gambling on her heart’s intuition, she sucked in a deep breath for courage. “You said you wanted to help me, so help me.” In desperation, she reached for his arm. The hard muscle flexed invitingly beneath her fingertips. “Pretend that you’re interested in the turnpike and let Freddie line up the trustees, but delay it so that the act doesn’t go through before Parliament ends. Make the bill wait, then change your mind right before the next session begins.”

His face remained inscrutable, but his eyes searched her face for answers she couldn’t give. “Why should I do that?”

“For me,” she choked out and dropped her hand away. Because you once loved me… “Because we were once friends.”

Footsteps echoed from deep within the house, growing louder as they drew closer. Urgent and eager—

“Please, Pearce.” She blinked hard to clear the hot tears of panic from her eyes. “If I ever meant anything to you—”

“Sandhurst!”

Frederick strode into the entry hall, his hand extended toward Pearce in greeting. He beamed a thrilled smile and slid between the two of them, ignoring Amelia in his eagerness to get to Pearce.

But Pearce solemnly made eye contact with her over her brother’s shoulder as the two men shook hands.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Frederick gushed. “I’d planned on calling on you myself this afternoon, but how wonderful that you’ve anticipated me. Proof that you’re a man who knows his mind when opportunity strikes.” He placed his hand on Pearce’s shoulder to nudge him in the direction of his study. “Let’s discuss business, shall we? I have a special bottle of brandy that I think you’ll enjoy.”

But Pearce didn’t move. “I’m not certain about the trust.”

Hope fluttered inside her. Was he going to help her after all?

Frederick froze. “Pardon?”

“I’m not certain that a turnpike is the best use of my property,” Pearce explained. “I want to consider all options.”

“But—but a trust is in all of our best interests, I assure you.” He gestured toward Amelia. “Tell him, Amelia, about all the new business to be made with a turnpike, the industrial development that can happen.”

She caught her breath as both men looked at her expectantly—Frederick, for her to use whatever charms he thought she possessed over Pearce to sway him to their side, and Pearce, for her to give him the answers he wanted.

But she couldn’t do that. Not without raising Frederick’s ire and his suspicions that she wasn’t doing everything she could to support the turnpike. And not when Pearce now held power over her.

She was cornered. “I—well, I—” she stammered, praying an answer came to her.

“We can talk about that between us,” Pearce told her brother, rescuing her once again by mercifully giving her an escape from the conversation. “I’m certain Miss Howard doesn’t want to be bothered with men and their business.”

She breathed out a silent sigh of relief. “Quite true.” She was already far more involved in all of this than she wanted to be. And desperate for a way to stop it. Meeting Pearce’s gaze, she said, “I know you’ll do what’s in my best interests, Lord Sandhurst.”

Pearce’s eyes gleamed, recognizing that for the lie it was. She wasn’t at all certain that she could trust him again, and he knew it.

“Good,” Frederick chimed in as he once more took Pearce’s shoulder and practically turned him toward the back of the house. “Let’s adjourn to my study, shall we? We have lots to discuss, and no better time than the present.” He led the way toward the rear of the town house. “First, we need to consider the properties. Bradenhill is too small and worthless, of course, for anything else…”

As the two men walked away, Amelia saw the hopeful bounce in her brother’s step. She leaned back against the wall as all the tension drained from her, replaced by churning confusion, fear, and doubt.

Her hand rose to clasp her locket, and she closed her eyes against the hot tears of frustration threatening at