Free The Reluctant Earl by C.J. Chase Page B

foolish man would decline an opportunity to feed his family this winter.” A gaunt horse lumbered past them. The wagon behind skidded on the dingy, packed snow, eliciting a bellow from its driver. “I’ll travel to Northamptonshire and join the local group of radicals. However, my lord, as an outsider, I probably can’t penetrate far enough into the leadership to glean much of their plans.”
    “True, but you have better prospects than any other. I can hire someone from Bow Street to conduct inquiries in London about the Spa Fields riots.”
    “I’ll get you the right man. He is very good—but not cheap.”
    “I’m prepared to pay what I must.”
    Harrison stared at a pigeon roosting on a rooftop for several moments. “My lord, you do realize you have placed this governess in a precarious position? Should her contacts learn of her duplicity, I doubt they will be as obliging as you.”
    Julian shoved his hands into his pocket. The crackle of the anonymous note tossed his mind back to the simple nativity star Harrison’s youngest had drawn with childish scrawl. Misgivings mingled with determination. “She placed herself in danger when she began this game. I doubt the government would have been more forgiving than the mob had the magistrate caught her first.” Or his sister Elizabeth. “Should I inform Sotherton of my discovery and our stratagem?”
    “Let’s see what your governess achieves for us.”
    “And offer Miss Vance a chance to redeem herself?”
    “We are all in need of redemption, captain.”
    Julian startled to hear his old title—not the one he’d inherited so unexpectedly, but the one he’d studied for, worked for, earned. He stared at a nearby ship whose masts disappeared into the London fog. Perhaps even he had a bit of the revolutionary coursing through his veins. “It seems I’ll be visiting my sister for an extended stay. She won’t be pleased.”
    “Reconciliation is every bit as necessary as redemption.” Harrison directed Julian’s attention from the ship to a tenement in the distance. “Our quarters are simple and the fare is modest, but you are welcome if you are staying in London.”
    By the looks of Harrison, their meals tended to the meager. “I spent years of my life at sea. I’m not so fastidious as you might imagine. Unfortunately I must journey immediately to Somerset. My housekeeper writes my mother is not well. I shall return to Northamptonshire as soon as feasible.” Julian retrieved a purse from inside his coat and passed it to the other man. “Buy whatever you need for the task—including any provisions your family will require during your absence.”
    * * *
    Leah stared across the rolling fields of sun-glazed snow. The bare branches of leafless trees framed the footpath as she hiked to the entrance of a large estate. A high stone fence enclosed the grounds and ivy covered the manor’s walls, as if they hid from the world, ashamed. She glanced over her shoulder. Assured none save a few thin, shaggy cattle observed her movements, she marched to the gatehouse.
    The gatekeeper came out and fitted a key in the lock. “Another Sunday visit, eh, Miss Vance?” He pushed open the foreboding iron gates that shut out unexpected visitors. And shut in any residents bent on escape.
    “Yes, thank you.” She slipped through the opening, fighting a wince as the lock clicked behind her.
    Eerie quiet reverberated across the lawns as Leah trudged to the house. Despite the lofty status of the residents, most of their families limited contact to paying the exorbitant fees. Few carriage wheels had left their impressions in the snow, probably only the occasional delivery dray. But as she drew closer to the house, Leah caught the unearthly moans, punctuated by the occasional screams, of mental distress. Sunlight winked on discreet bars that lined the windows.
    Breath tightening in her chest, she climbed the steps and rang the bell. The door swung open to reveal the unsmiling