Page 17 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
Lando inhaled deeply. “In summary, we will not stand by and watch innocent women and poor countryfolk suffer while he racks up debts. I have devised a scheme to teach him a lesson he will never forget.”
Angel would be forgiven for wondering where his languid, playful earl had disappeared; this one had fire in his belly and a gimlet eye. “You mentioned stealing the estate, my lord. Ah…how do you propose we do that?”
“By sleight of hand, Mr Angel, by sleight of hand. Gartside is desperate for blunt. He’s in damned low water, and so we’re going to trick him into believing there is a simple way of restoring his fortunes. We’ll create an illusion, and he will cling to it. And shame him in the process, so that he never sets foot in thetonagain. Or indeed, as I hinted last night, on the Gartside estate.”
As each pronouncement dropped from Lando’s lips, Angel’s fine eyebrows travelled higher and higher up his forehead. “Stealing an estate using trickery sounds like a very tall order, my lord.”
“Perhaps. But I have devised a plan that I believe is worth a shot. At first light on Tuesday, you and I travel to London.”
“We will?” Angel appeared momentarily stunned.
“We will,” Lando echoed. “There is much to accomplish if one is scheming to steal an estate.”
Angel shook his head in disbelief. “I am astounded. You—”
Lando took pity on him. “Your dear uncle was very…precious to me. And as a wise man recently pointed out, it is only that which he would have expected. That there are so many other reasons to ensure Gartside’s downfall only serves to strengthen my resolve.”
“Yes, but…that…someone…someone like you would come up with—”
“‘Someone like me’? An eccentric dandy, you mean?” Lando permitted himself a small smile. “Dandyism is a species not to be underestimated. It is a species of genius, haven’t you heard?”
Lando doubted his companion was familiar with the works of one of England’s finest eighteenth-century essayists, but then Angel strived to keep a roof over his head, whereas Lando spent most of his days lolling with his feet up, making his way through his extensive library.
“I’m beginning to think it might be,” Angel answered slowly. He permitted himself a small smile. “A species, if allowed, my lord, I would like to examine a little more closely. But forgive me, what I had actually been going to say was that my astonishment stems from admiration that a man such as yourself, who takes such pride in running his estates and affairs has the mental capacity and fortitude to also focus his attentions on someone so lowly as myself.”
If Lando had a fan to hand, he would have made coquettish use of it. “Your flattery is most welcome, sir.” Demurely, he dropped his gaze. He was being played like a fiddle but thoroughly enjoying the experience. In truth, he felt a touch giddy, as if standing on the precipice of something and preparing to jump. “You have my permission to offer it freely.”
“Then I shall. I shall flatter you as often as time allows,” answered Angel, dimpling wickedly. He tapped on the heavy slab of wood in front of him. “Starting by complimenting your choice of furnishings. I imagine one could put a sturdy desk like this to very good use, don’t you?”
*
INGLIS MATERIALISED AFTERMr Angel’s departure to find his lordship flapping a hand across his blushing face. “Inglis,” Lando said in a weak voice. “Mr Angel is an awfully nice chap, don’t you think?”
“I take it your meeting was a success, my lord.”
“A great success. I feel quite…invigorated.”
“Very good, sir.”
Mr Angel.Christopher Angel. Even his name intoxicated. Lando inhaled deeply, suddenly aware of his blood thrumming through his veins, vibrant with the essence of his own existence. A raffish adventure was around the corner; he could feel it. Even perhaps, an adventure of an altogether more intimate sort, with Mr Christopher Angel.
Be that as it may, Lando had a baronet to bring down. He sat up straighter, aware of Inglis awaiting orders.
“Now, if you will, we have things to do, Inglis. Starting with a suggestion that you invite Pritchard to warm your bed tonight, as it will be the last opportunity for quite some weeks. The day after tomorrow, Mr Angel and I will be departing for London. Pritchard will accompany me, of course, whilst you will maintain a steady ship here. And, though Angel is not yet convinced of it, we shall not return until I have the keys to the Gartside estate clasped in my hand.”
Chapter Nine
“SIZE MATTERS TREMENDOUSLY, Mr Angel,” breezed Lando in response to his companion’s enquiry as to why a solitary person required such a large carriage. “No one enjoys a small glass of port, do they? I’m an earl! I have theton’s expectations to uphold! Not to mention my trunks and my…um…all my other trunks, and my Mr Pritchard, and my books and…and you.”
“You overlooked my single valise,” added Angel, eyes twinkling. He studied the assembled luggage, most of which would be trundled behind them in a second, equally fine carriage, under the watchful eye of Pritchard. “Have you secreted that delightful desk in one of them?”
Gadzooks. An obscene image filled Lando’s head. “No, sadly.”
“Pity,” replied Angel, still twinkling.
“Though I do have one remarkably similar at the townhouse,” remembered Lando. And a rosy heat climbed his cheeks.
Considering the generous dimensions of Lando’s carriage, he was at a loss to understand how Angel’s knee bumped his with increasing regularity. Since their meeting in the library, Angel had run a few errands, according to Inglis. One of them had been the acquisition of some more clothing for his sister from the modest tailor in Allenmouth. The man needed some himself if he was to accompany Lando in town, though his dark travelling coat suited him very well indeed. As did the midnight-blue ribbon—velvet again—holding his thick tresses in place. Until he’d made the acquaintance of Christopher Angel, Lando hadn’t previously appreciated a fondness for ribbons. Discreetly, he adjusted his lap rug.
