Earl's Well That Ends Well (The Way to a Lord's Heart #5) - Jane Ashford Page 0,61

er, what?” he said, sounding completely unlike himself. “You’ve found…what?”

He had never been this awkward. Everything was to be different between them then. Teresa’s spirits sank. “I’ve discovered what we were looking for.”

Lord Macklin stared at her as if he had no idea what she meant. Did he mean to sever all connection with her? The knowledge cut her to the heart, but she gathered her courage. She would have to persuade him to do this one thing before that.

Tom came out of his lodging house. He was carrying a small vial, which seemed odd. He looked surprised to see her. He and the earl exchanged a look. Lord Macklin quickly shook his head. Had they in fact discussed her history? Had she misjudged Tom’s reaction?

She longed to turn and walk away. But she couldn’t abandon the young women she’d promised to aid. “I must tell you what I have discovered,” she began. “It’s—”

“We have an urgent appointment,” Lord Macklin interrupted. “Perhaps we could speak tomorrow.”

The two stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the carriage door, a phalanx arrayed against her.

“At the workshop perhaps,” added the earl. “I will call there.”

This was not a hint. He wanted her to go away.

“But we must be off now.” He gestured, and Tom ran around and climbed into the other side of the carriage. Lord Macklin edged the carriage door open just enough to slip through, shutting it practically in Teresa’s face. The coachman gave Teresa a quick glance, as if he was puzzled, and then the vehicle started off, leaving her alone in the street.

She hadn’t quite believed that he would react in this way, Teresa realized, despite everything. And certainly not Tom. The blow was harsher than she’d anticipated. A desolation that she’d thought conquered loomed over her. In the empty street, she fought it off. Why should she mourn a thing she’d never expected to have? She hadn’t really believed in a connection with the earl, had she? He was not “gone” because he had never been there in the first place.

And this was beside the point. She had to find a way to use Lord Macklin’s vast resources to rescue the dancers, even if he didn’t wish to be acquainted with her any longer. Perhaps a letter would do. She could explain what she’d found and assure him she was only seeking a way to get beyond those walls. She wouldn’t have to see his face as he decided whether he would be associated with her this one last time. Teresa’s breath caught on what was not tears. She turned to walk home. To her refuge, her bastion. But the idea was not nearly as comforting as it used to be.

“Shouldn’t we have told her?” Tom asked Arthur quietly. He gestured at the Conde de la Cerda, lying on the floor of the carriage trussed up like a Christmas goose.

“There was no time for discussions,” Arthur replied. “We can’t miss the tide.” Which was true. The ship was waiting. They couldn’t afford the least delay, and he had no doubt that Señora Alvarez would have had a good deal to say. Not only that, he’d taken great care to keep his coachman from knowing about their captive. Arthur had sent him off on an errand while he and Tom wrestled the Spaniard into the carriage. No, this way was better.

He had everything under control, barely. Just barely. He was sticking to his mad plan and getting it over as soon as possible. “I didn’t want to implicate her,” he added. “She’d been seen with the conde.”

“You implicated me,” replied Tom with a wry grin.

“And that was bad enough. I wish I had not needed your help to subdue the man.” The Spaniard had fought like a cornered rat. He was glaring up at them now with eyes full of fury above the handkerchief gag. Arthur longed to reach the ship Rigby had found for them, set him aboard, and watch it sail away. There was one more unpleasant task to be accomplished, however. He looked down at the vial Tom was holding. “You’re sure of the dose?”

“I talked to the apothecary. It’s right.”

Arthur nodded. Suppressing his distaste, he pressed the Spaniard’s nostrils closed. When the man began to choke, Arthur pulled down the gag. The conde’s mouth gaped open as he pulled in a deep breath. Before he could do any more than that, Tom poured the laudanum into him. He swallowed convulsively. Arthur restored the gag on