Free The Earl With the Secret Tattoo by Kieran Kramer Page B

it will distract me. It will distract me from how much I want to land in your
     lap again and return to what we were doing before.
    “Lady Eleanor, believe me, it’s much too—”
    “Enough, Lord Tumbridge. Tell me.”
    “Very well.” He paused. “It won’t be easy.”
    “Lord Tumbridge.”
    “As you wish, my lady. But I’ll need you to take a seat again.”
    “Very well,” she said, feeling impatient as she did so.
    The earl fixed his gaze on hers. “The talisman you brought me is what was needed to
     bring down the man we believe responsible for the death of several people doing their
     duty to the Crown, his last victim being—” He paused again, looking terribly grim.
    “Who?” She was getting impatient now.
    He sighed and held her gaze. “Your father.”
    “My—my father?”
    “Yes.”
    Tears blurred her vision. She’d gone from utter fright to absolute happiness and was
     now in the depths of misery and shock.
    “Lady Eleanor, I’m so sorry.” Lord Tumbridge’s expression was anguished when he handed
     her a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket.
    She gave a little sob and accepted it. “I—I thought he’d died in his sleep.” She wiped
     her eyes with the linen square. “Oh, Papa. You poor, poor man.”
    And she began to cry in earnest, thinking of all that was wrong with the world.
    Lord Tumbridge hovered over her and smoothed her hair back from her eyes while she
     cried. “I knew it was too much.”
    “No,” she said fiercely, and wiped at the tears brimming over. “It was not too much.
     Tell me everything, and I mean, everything.” She felt angry now. “Don’t dare hold a single fact back.
     Papa would want me to know.”
    The earl kept smoothing back her hair, over and over, his gaze troubled and fixed
     on the wall behind her.
    “My lord?”
    He finally looked down at her.
    “You can stop now,” she said, not really wanting him to but needing him to—so she
     could think clearly.
    “Very well.” Lord Tumbridge’s eyes were sad. He dropped his hand but not before gently
     fixing a loop of hair back behind her ear.
    “I’m grateful for your sympathy,” she said, “but I need to hear more about my father.”
    “You’re his daughter,” the earl replied softly, “his legacy to the world. So I’ll
     be glad to speak with you about him.”
    He resumed his seat on the floor in front of her.
    “Thank you,” she said, feeling more collected. “What do you mean, Papa was doing his
     duty to the Crown? Who killed him? And why?”
    Over the next few minutes, it was as if Eleanor had entered another world, a world
     she never dreamed existed. She couldn’t believe that her sweet, docile father had
     founded an organization whose mission was to track down any threats to the security
     of the those who served the Crown in the diplomatic corps.
    She felt pale and shaken. But the longer she thought of it, the more she realized
     it would have been very like her father. He was a man of principle—and action, when
     he felt the need.
    He was a hero, not only to her but also to their country.
    That thought brought her tremendous comfort. And pride.
    “And you’re in this clandestine organization?” she asked the earl.
    “Yes, I am. Although if you asked the English government, they’d say we didn’t exist.”
    “Goodness. So you’re a hero, too.”
    “I wouldn’t say that.” His modest rebuttal sounded perfectly sincere. “I’m only doing
     my duty. Your father was the visionary, the one who uncovered the enemy within our
     ranks, and the one who sacrificed his life.”
    “One who does his duty is a hero, whether he makes the ultimate sacrifice or not.”
    Lord Tumbridge began to speak, but she laid a finger on his mouth. “I must beg you
     not to contradict me on that point.” Her tone was firm, even as he grabbed her finger
     and placed a soft, sweet kiss on it. She blushed and pulled her hand back. “Now, please
     tell me more about my father’s