My Lord Hercules Read online

  Miranda couldn’t help but smile back. “Unless he’s changed his mind.”

  “Oh!” Penny squealed at the same time Alessandra pulled Miranda into her embrace.

  Miranda squeezed her sister in return. Then she pulled back from Alessandra and said, “Neither of you can breathe a word of this until Harry can speak with Devlin.”

  Miranda and Alessandra both turned their focus on Penny, whose mouth dropped open in sisterly outrage. “I said I can hold my tongue. There’s no need for both of you to look at me so.”

  Alessandra slid her arm around their younger sister's shoulders. “Of course you can,” she soothed. “And now we can focus on you, Penny. Is there a fellow who’s caught your interest during the Little Season?”

  Penny flushed, which was something considering her olive complexion. Miranda narrowed her eyes on her little sister. Was it possible Penny had found a gentleman who had caught her attention? If so, then she certainly was capable of holding her tongue. “I didn’t tell anyone—” she shrugged “—well, other than Alessandra what I overheard Lady St. Austell saying to Lady Gifford last night.”

  There was something in her sister’s tone that made dread wash over Miranda. “Lady St. Austell said something alarming?”

  Penny looked from Miranda to Alessandra and back. “You didn’t dress up like a man and sneak inside some gambling establishment, did you?”

  Miranda’s mouth fell open. Harry told her he wouldn’t ever tell a soul. Why would he tell his sister, and why would she tell anyone else? That was most upsetting.

  “Of course she wouldn’t,” Alessandra defended. “Devlin would kill her, and she would never risk all of our reputations by doing something so foolish.”

  Miranda couldn’t quite meet her older sister’s eyes. What if she had been caught by someone other than Harry? What is she’d destroyed her sisters’ chances at happiness? All she wanted was to learn the truth about Tessie. No one else seemed to care, but Tessie had been a good friend to Miranda. If she didn’t care, if she didn’t find out the truth, no one would. And that seemed a travesty.

  Still, she shouldn’t have put her sisters’ reputations in danger in the process. That was unforgivable.

  “I can’t believe she would say such a thing,” Miranda said instead of answering the charges before her.

  Penny shook her head. “I don’t think anyone else overheard. They were in the retiring room. They didn’t even know I was there.”

  Miranda wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or not. Shouldn’t Lady St. Austell make certain that others couldn’t overhear such tales? And why would she confide them to Lady Gifford? “What else did she say?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  Penny heaved a sigh. “That she’s worried about Lord Harrison.”

  “Because of me,” Miranda muttered under her breath.

  Penny nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  As soon as the Woodsworth butler opened the front door, Harry nodded at the servant. “I need to speak with Lord Woodsworth.”

  The butler’s eyes widened for a moment, then he shook his head. “I am sorry, my lord, but Lord Woodsworth is not in residence.”

  “Where is he residing, then?”

  “Clifton Court?” the man suggested.

  Hampshire? “He’s returned to his seat?”

  The butler appeared more perplexed by the moment. “Returned, sir? From where?”

  Clearly the man had no idea that his master was somewhere in London. Harry scrubbed a hand down his face. Why the devil would a man with pockets to let spend funds he didn’t have for lodging when he already had a home in Mayfair? Dread pricked at Harry’s heart. What if Miranda was right? What if Woodsworth had done something to the Birkin girl? What other nefarious schemes was he plotting? “Is Lady Woodsworth in, then?” Perhaps the marchioness knew where her wastrel of a son was.

  “Of course, sir.” The butler opened the door wide. “If you’ll just wait in here.” He gestured to the front parlor.

  Almost as soon as Harry entered the parlor in question, Lady Woodsworth stepped inside the room as well. “Lord Harrison, what a surprise.”

  He was sure it was. In fact, he wasn’t sure the last time he saw the marchioness. Pippa’s wedding and then Alice’s in the spring, most likely. Harry smiled at the lady, who really was very kind for all that she had borne a scoundrel for a son. “I’m looking for Wood.”

  The marchioness’s face turned a bit pale. “You don’t own his vowels, do you?”

  Ah. So that’s why Woodsworth was somewhere else, somewhere his creditors couldn’t easily locate him. Harry shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I’m actually looking for an acquaintance of his. A Miss Theresa Birkin. I was hoping he could point me in her direction.”

  Relief washed over Lady Woodsworth’s face. Even still she shook her head. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I know the girl. Alice would know. She remembers everything, you know?”

  But a missing girl was hardly something Harry wanted to discuss with Alice. The poor girl had already endured a lifetime of troubles just for sharing Woodsworth’s blood. “Where might I find Wood, my lady?”

  Again she shook her head. “I’m not certain, Lord Harrison. He could be in Hampshire or somewhere in Town, but I haven’t seen him.”

  And she was probably the happier for it, not that Harry would say as much. He nodded instead. “Thank you. I do appreciate your seeing me.”

  “Anytime,” she said, sincerity evident in her voice. “You should visit more often, my lord. I’m certain Mary or Bess would love see you as well sometime.”

  Her daughters of very marriageable ages. But as Harry already had a girl of his own, he merely smiled once more. “That is kind of you.” He started for the door. “I should head over to Gifford House to see what Alice remembers.” Or perhaps speak with her husband instead, as Giff had mentioned seeing Wood the day before. He might have the best idea of where to find the reprobate.

  After making his way to Gifford House, Harry was promptly shown in to the earl’s study. If Giff was surprised by Harry’s sudden appearance, he didn’t show it.

  “Sit, sit,” Giff said, gesturing to the seat before his desk. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  Harry dropped into an overstuffed chair, then leaned forward to meet the earl’s eyes better. The entire journey from Woodsworth House, he’d gone over and over in his head how to start this conversation. For as noble as Giff was, he did happen to be Wood’s oldest friend, and Harry would really rather not be tossed out on his ear. “I need to find Wood.”

  “He doesn’t owe you any blunt, does he?” Giff sighed.

  “No, though I need to find him just the same.” Harry raked a hand through his hair.

  Giff frowned as he leaned back in his chair. “What’s he done this time? I’ll try to shield the girls from it, if I can.”

  Wood did not deserve a friend as honorable as Giff, not by a long shot. “I don’t know that he’s done anything, I just need to find him.”

  The earl’s eyes narrowed on Harry as though he were trying to make sense of him. “What’s going on, Casemore?”

  “I just need to ask him about a girl.”

  “About Miss Miranda?” Giff pushed to his feet and stepped around his desk. “I suppose I don’t need to tell you Pippa is quite concerned about your connection to that particular girl.”

  Why should Pippa care one way or the other about Miranda? “I beg your pardon?”

  “She has deduced that your Miss Miranda is the girl from Gioco’s.”

  Harry’s mouth dropped open. “How the devil did she figure that out?”

  Giff heaved a sigh. “I’d wager St. Austell helped her deduce that, though I’m equally sure half of London has come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that difficult, old man. After all, you did help a girl find her way out of the hell, and then you suddenly began courting a girl who very much resembles the first. You aren’t exactly known for paying cour
t to proper girls on a regular basis, you know?”

  No, he’d never had the desire to do so before now. “I’m going to marry her,” Harry said, hoping his name would protect Miranda, though fearing it would only confirm her identity to everyone in Town.

  “I figured that as well. I can’t imagine you’d let just any girl drive your phaeton.” He smiled then. “As long as she makes you happy, Casemore, don’t worry about what anyone else says. Another scandal will come along in a week or so, and the incident at Gioco’s will long be forgotten.”

  “Pippa has no reason to worry on my account.”

  “Alice told her that very thing, as she’s somewhat experienced in worrying about ne’er-do-well brothers.”

  And that quickly, they were back to the subject of Woodsworth. “Do you know a chit named Theresa Birkin?”

  Giff tipped his head back to look at the ceiling as though trying to recall the girl in question. “I do. A mousy little thing. Ran into her several times during the Season.”

  “You did?”

  “Didn’t you?” Giff asked. “She always seemed to be everywhere Alice and the others were.”

  Harry shook his head. After Pippa married St. Austell, there was no reason for Harry to continue attending marriage mart functions, so he’d gone back to his usual pursuits. “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s your interest in the girl now?”

  “Miranda…” Harry cleared his throat “That is, Miss Miranda says she’s missing. This Miss Birkin is a friend of hers, and she’s quite concerned.”

  “And that’s why your Miss Miranda entered Gioco’s?” Giff surmised aloud.

  Harry nodded. “She thinks Wood knows something about the girl’s disappearance.”

  “Oh dear God.” Giff shook his head as though the idea was ludicrous. “He’s far from an angel, but he wouldn’t do something like…” The expression on Giff’s face suddenly changed to one of disbelief.

  “What is it?” Harry asked.

  “She was infatuated with him, if I’m thinking of the right girl. And he wasn’t exactly indifferent to her.” Giff shook his head again. “But this is Wood, Casemore. He couldn’t be the cause of some girl’s disappearance.” He snorted. “It would take too much effort, too much planning to pull off something like that.”

  The earl did have a point. Still, it would be best if Harry could just question Woodsworth and be done with the man. “I really would like to speak with him.”

  “You don’t think he’s capable of this,” Giff said.

  No, he didn’t. Woodsworth wasn’t the sort to make a girl disappear. But if the man knew anything, Harry had to know what it was. He’d promised Miranda he’d get the truth, after all. “Your wife owes me a favor, Giff.”

  The earl’s glare turned slightly murderous at that. “For introducing her to Haworth, I know. You’re lucky you’re still breathing. Don’t tell me you ever mean to collect.”

  Harry ignored the earl’s tone. “Do me this favor, Giff, and her debt to me will be wiped clean. Bring Wood with you to St. Austell House this evening. Let’s end this business once and for all. I just need to find out what he knows, if anything.”

  Giff’s expression softened slightly. Then he nodded once. “Very well, but not because of that ridiculous debt. If Wood knows something about the girl’s whereabouts, he should tell it.”

  No lady had ever been as beautiful as Miranda Bartlett. Harry nearly lost his breath every time he saw her. Walking into the Bartlett’s green parlor was no different. As soon as Hibbert announced him and Harry’s eyes landed on his exotic beauty sitting in a high-backed chair, he couldn’t help the foolish grin that was sure to be plastered across his face.

  “Miranda.” His voice came out husky to his own ears.

  “Harry.” A blush stained her cheeks as she met his eyes, and Harry bit back a smile.

  He wasn’t certain when she’d starting calling him Harry, but he rather hoped she’d never stop. He’d wager his last farthing that he affected her just the same as she affected him. That did bode well for their future together.

  From the corner of the room, a delicate cough caught Harry’s attention. He turned his head to find another olive-skinned beauty. Not one he’d met before. “You must be Miss Bartlett.”

  “Alessandra.” Miranda rose from her seat, quickly crossing the floor to Harry. “This is Lord Harrison Casemore.” She slid her arm through Harry’s and smiled up at him, her hazel eyes twinkling. “Harry, my sister Alessandra.”

  “Very nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Bartlett,” Harry replied.

  The older Bartlett girl’s clear blue eyes seemed to assess him carefully as she said, “I’ve heard so much about you, my lord.”

  Had she? Harry glanced down at the girl on his arm. “Talking about me, Miranda?”

  Before Miranda could mutter a word, her sister said, “Puttenham mentioned you.”

  He couldn’t imagine what the Earl of Puttenham could possibly have said about him, so Harry only smiled and hoped for the best. “Congratulations on your recent betrothal.”

  “I look forward to saying the same thing to you, Lord Harrison.”

  “And I look forward to hearing it.” With that end in mind, Harry squeezed Miranda’s hand. When she met his gaze, he was struck once again by her beauty and the adventurous soul lurking behind her hazel eyes. “Woodsworth will be at St. Austell’s this evening. I’ll have the truth from him about your Miss Birkin by the end of the night.”

  Behind them, an irritated growl emanated from someone, just inside the parlor. “Don’t tell me,” Marston’s voice echoed off the walls, “you’ve roped Casemore into this nonsense, Miranda.”

  Miranda tensed at hearing her brother’s words. Harry winked at her, hoping to assuage her fears, then he turned on his heel, bringing Miranda with him, to face the viscount. “Ah, Marston. It’s been an age.”

  “Indeed.” The new viscount inhaled deeply. “When I first heard your name mentioned yesterday, I had hoped you’d be a steady influence on my sister.”

  “Does she require one?” Harry asked. “She seems perfectly delightful to me.”

  Marston rubbed his brow as though to stave off a headache. “And you always struck me as so sensible.”

  Harry shrugged. “I’d like to think I’m being sensible now.”

  “By hounding Woodsworth over Miranda’s unfounded suspicions?”

  She sucked in an affronted breath. “He knows something, Devlin.”

  Harry squeezed her hand, hoping she’d let him deal with her brother. “Gifford agrees that we should hear what Woodsworth has to say. There’s no harm in asking the man a few questions.”

  “No harm?” Marston scoffed. “I’d rather not have my sister accusing a peer of the realm of committing nefarious acts, if you don’t mind, Casemore.”

  Just as Harry wouldn’t want Pippa doing something similar. At least Marston had his sister’s best interest at heart, even if he couldn’t keep her from sneaking out in one disguise after another in the dead of night. “Not to worry, I’ll be the one asking the questions. Woodsworth doesn’t need to know about Miranda at all.”

  Beside him, Miranda gasped. Then she slid her hand from Harry’s arm and stepped away from him. “But Tessie’s my friend. I need to be there for her.”

  “Woodsworth will probably be looser with his tongue if you’re not present, my dear.”

  “But what if you don’t ask the right questions? I’m the one who’s read all of Tessie’s letters. I’m the one who—”

  “It’s not up for debate,” Marston grumbled. “I’m not sure how you coerced Casemore into this madness—” he looked from Miranda and then back to Harry, his brow furrowed with concern “—and I’m fairly certain I don’t want to know, or I’ll be forced to call him out.”

  “Devlin!” Alessandra Bartlett gasped and a hand fluttered to her chest.

  The viscount didn’t seem affected at all by his sister’s censorious tone. “Just be glad
he’s willing to question Woodsworth for you, Miranda. And don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  Harry didn’t think he’d ever been called a gift horse before and was just about to say as much when Miranda cast her brother a mutinous expression, which struck a bit of fear into Harry’s heart. Who knew what she was capable of when pushed? Was Marston mad?

  “You can trust me to get the truth, Miranda,” Harry vowed, dragging her attention from her brother back to him.

  Her expression softened as she met his gaze. “But, Harry…” she breathed, making him wish they were completely alone.

  “I do have a vested interest in getting to the bottom of this.” In fact, if her brother and sister weren’t in the same room with them, Harry would have pulled Miranda into his arms and kissed her, reminded her how very important the outcome was to him. After all, that had been their deal, hadn’t it? She’d consent to marry him if he got the truth from the marquess? Woodsworth would tell Harry everything he knew if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders.

  A pretty pink stained Miranda’s cheeks, which only made Harry smile. After they were married, he’d have to see if he could provoke such a reaction from her on a regular basis. He would have such a delightful time thinking up new ways to make her blush.

  “And just what is this vested interest?” Marston asked, breaking Harry from his reverie.

  “Justice,” Miranda squeaked, placing herself in front of Harry as though to keep her brother from asking any other questions. She didn’t need to worry that he’d tell Martson of their deal or of the times he’d encountered Miranda in disguise. As far as Harry was concerned, all of that was between the two of them.

  “Justice?” Alessandra Bartlett echoed, her face drawn up in confusion.

  “Yes,” Miranda gushed, “Lord Harrison has an innate sense of justice. He wants to make certain London is a safe place for all ladies. Isn’t he wonderful?”

  What a ridiculous stream of drivel. Marston must have thought so too because his brow rose in question as his gaze settled on Harry. “Innate sense of justice, hmm?”