Page 44 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
Michael’s glower was sufficient to convey what he thought of that idea. He crossed his arms and settled in to watch the French doors for Anne’s return.
Chapter 16
“And so you see,” Anne concluded, “all the evidence points to Lord Gladstone.”
“It certainly does,” Samuel agreed. They were out on the balcony, and Anne had just described everything she had learned, from her conversation with Nick and Johnny to Lieutenant Avery’s unexpected call and concluding with her dance with Lord Gladstone.
Samuel consulted his pocket watch by the light of a wall sconce. “My contact at Bow Street mentioned that he’s supervising the first half of the Night Patrol shift. If I leave now, I should just be able to catch him. I believe there is enough evidence to arrest Lord Gladstone right now.” Samuel started to turn toward the ballroom, then paused. “Would Gladstone really be stupid enough to collect the orphans using his own carriage?”
“Yes,” Anne said at once. “He would. If you had but two minutes’ conversation with him, you’d understand. A criminal he might be, but a criminal mastermind he is decidedly—”
“Lady Wynters?”
Anne and Samuel froze, then slowly turned to face the French doors, where Lord Scudamore stood outlined by the light from the ballroom. Anne swallowed.
“I’m sorry, I was just coming to collect you for our dance, and—you were talking about Gladstone. You said… he was a criminal.” The viscount shook his head, as if unable to conceive what he had just heard. “What do you mean by that?”
Anne forced a brittle smile to her face. “N-never mind. Is it time for our dance? Shall we—”
“You said something about orphans,” Lord Scudamore insisted as he strode forward. “Orphans and a carriage.”
He must have been standing there for some time. Anne’s mind was scrambling for something, anything she could say to diffuse the situation. She exchanged a quick glance with Samuel, who seemed to be similarly at a loss.
“You said you were going to Bow Street.” Lord Scudamore was growing flustered, his voice rising in both tone and volume. “You said he was a criminal. That is a serious accusation. A very serious accusation, and about my dearest friend—”
“Please, my lord.” Anne turned to Samuel. “Do you think we should explain?”
“I don’t see any way around it,” Samuel murmured.
Anne had to agree. Although she was loathe to bring Lord Gladstone’s dearest friend into their confidence, she could not imagine a scenario in which Lord Scudamore would hold his tongue without being told the reasons for their suspicions. Even then, he might still tip off Lord Gladstone, but Anne knew based upon the viscount’s charity work that his interest in the welfare of children was sincere. Perhaps his moral compass would win out over blind fidelity to his friend.
Anne nodded to Samuel. “You can go and meet with your contact. I will explain to Lord Scudamore.”
Samuel cut his eyes to the viscount. “You’re sure?”
“Completely sure.”
“Very well.” Samuel bowed over her hand. “Let’s speak again tomorrow.”
“Indeed,” Anne murmured. She turned to Lord Scudamore. “Come away from the doors, my lord, and I will explain everything.”
As his gaze had not strayed once from the French doors leading to the balcony, Michael marked the moment Anne’s friend Samuel Branton returned to the ballroom.
Michael expected to see Anne and Lord Scudamore right behind him. But as the seconds ticked agonizingly by, they kept… not appearing.
“Ooh, looking bad, Morsley,” Harrington said, sucking in a breath. “Very bad, indeed.”
“Thank you for mentioning it,” Michael muttered. He was trying to put on a calm front, but he felt physically ill. If he missed his chance with Anne, again…
The thought was so horrible he couldn’t even bear to think it.
“Shut it, Harrington,” Fauconbridge said. “The next set is just forming. They’ll walk through those doors any second now. You’ll see.”
Michael stared at the doors almost without blinking as the musicians finished tuning up. He tore his gaze away just long enough to see that the dancers arranged into squares for a cotillion.
He all but jumped out of his skin as the orchestra played a jaunty introduction, and still Anne and Scudamore did not appear.
Cold dread pierced his chest, growing deeper as the seconds ticked agonizingly by.
