Page 98 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“E-expand it?” Anne asked, startled.
“Expand it,” Michael said, rising to sit beside her on the sofa. “What I realized today is that, if you take a step back, our goals aren’t mutually exclusive. Your goal isn’t really to live in London. It’s to help as many people as possible. And my goal isn’t really to live in Canada, although I do love it there. It’s to do something meaningful with my days. Well, I can do meaningful work here in London.” His green eyes were bright as they met hers. “Because you’re doing meaningful work right now. And I can help you.”
Anne felt tears springing to her eyes for a different reason this time. Michael squeezed her hands. “Is there room for a gentleman in the Ladies’ Society? Because I’d like to apply. And I have an idea that I believe might be of interest to its president.”
Anne dabbed at her eyes. “What’s that?”
“It’s time for the Ladies’ Society to expand overseas. You see—”
The door burst open, and Lord Scudamore rushed into the room, followed by Mr. Hewitt, the clerk from the Bow Street offices.
Michael glowered. “What the hell, Scudamore?”
“Gladstone’s back,” he said, panting.
“He is?” Anne asked.
“How do you know this?” Michael demanded.
“I arranged for a watch to be kept on his house. I feel responsible for this whole miserable business.” Scudamore nodded toward Mr. Hewitt. “I just received word.”
“He only stayed for a few minutes,” Mr. Hewitt said, “then he set out again. He went west. Our patrolman tracked him as far as Notting Hill before he gave him the slip.”
“That’s when I remembered,” Scudamore said, “one of the few assets Gladstone still owns is a string of tenement houses near Pottery Lane.”
Anne gasped. “Pottery Lane! That’s got to be it, Michael. That’s where he’s holding Nick.”
“Come on, Morsley,” Scudamore said. “Bow Street is marshalling patrolmen, but it will take time to round them up. We’ll get there faster. God willing, we won’t be too late.”
Michael froze. His jaw was locked, and his expression was that of someone who had just swallowed a spoonful of vinegar. Anne watched him take a deep breath, then turn to her. “Do you want to come?” he asked.
Mr. Hewitt had just stepped through the door; Lord Scudamore, who had been right behind him, whipped around. “What’s this nonsense? This is no place for a lady—”
Michael’s eyes didn’t stray from Anne’s face. She could see his struggle, how much he really didn’t want her to be there, either. But what he said was, “That is for Lady Anne to decide.”
Anne felt her throat constrict, for all that she was smiling. Because this was the proof she needed that Michael wasn’t going to walk all over her. He was going to respect what she wanted, even when it was hard.
She reached out and took his hand. “Someone has to stay here and coordinate the response. You go. I’ll summon reinforcements and send them after you.”
Michael’s shoulders sagged as he gave a great exhale. “You’re sure?”
She pressed his hand. “I’m sure. But thank you.” She rose and went to the door. “Hugh,” she called, “gather all of the footmen. You’re going with Lord Morsley to rescue Nick.”
Hugh bowed. “At once, my lady.”
Lord Scudamore frowned. “Hewitt and I came in my curricle. There won’t be room for any of your footmen. It’ll be a squeeze with just the three of us.”
“They’ll follow in my carriage, then.” Anne crossed the room to her desk and pulled out the case containing her flintlock pistol. “You should take this, Michael.”
“Is that a gun?” Scudamore said, hurrying over. “Um, good idea!”
Anne pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk toward Lord Scudamore. “Write out the address of Lord Gladstone’s buildings.”
“Very good,” Lord Scudamore said, scrawling down an address while Anne loaded her pistol.
They hurried out the door. While Lord Scudamore climbed into his curricle, Michael paused to give Anne a quick kiss.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
