Free Dangerous to Love by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

coughed to clear his throat. “I was in Chelsea the other day and took the opportunity, I hope you don’t mind, of looking over Kirkland Hall. You never thought to restore the house to its former glory?”
    “No, n-never. I leave that to my son, H-Harry. If it were not entailed, I m-might be tempted to sell the Hall. For me, it will always have too many tragic m-memories. And of course I don’t mind, my boy. I’m only sorry that the fire destroyed all the p-portraits of our ancestors. Hugo isn’t the only one you take after, you know, and it’s more than looks. You are very like Hugo in other ways too. He was always the adventurous one, very confident, yes, and sometimes, alas, foolhardy.”
    “Lord Kirkland, I’m not convinced that—”
    “I know, I know. F-forget I said that. It’s only, well, it would be comforting to think that we were related, you know?”
    Julian nodded sympathetically, and sipped his Madeira. When government troops had descended on Kirkland Hall, the earl had been no more than a boy of twelve. At a single stroke, he had lost his whole family. His sister had eloped, never to be seen again, his older brother had beenshot to death before his eyes, and shortly after, the old earl had died a broken man in the Tower. The earl’s life and his own had many parallels. They had both become orphans at approximately the same age. He understood the earl’s sentiments only too well. Orphans never got over the feeling that they were alone in the world.
    Though there were some similarities in their early lives, there was one major difference. He had been maddened by grief at the loss of his father. No one had mourned the old earl’s death. By all accounts, he had been a brutal, unfeeling father. His son, James, had succeeded to the title at twelve years. Unfortunately, he had also succeeded to a guardian who, it was reported, was every bit as ferocious as the old earl. He’d led a terrible life until he had reached his majority.
    After that, the earl’s luck had changed. He’d married one of the richest heiresses in the whole of England, and if that were not enough, it was a love match to boot. There was a house in Hanover Square, and a palace of a place in the country near Seven Oaks. In spite of his wealth and position of eminence at the War Office, however, Kirkland was a very unassuming gentleman. It was said that he lived in fear of his own servants. This was an exaggeration, of course, but there was a germ of truth in it. Julian deduced that his lordship had had all the spirit beaten out of him as a young boy. He felt sorry for him, and at the same time, he liked him immensely.
    He hadn’t forgotten his real purpose in seeking Lord Kirkland out. Turning the conversation back to the Wards, he said, “I have recently come into possession of some bills and mortgages belonging to Jeremy Ward.” This was not an unusual event for a gambler. Patrons frequently paid their gaming debts with vowels they held from others. “Is it possible, do you suppose, that he is trying to raise money to buy a pardon for his father?”
    Lord Kirkland gave Julian a keen look. “I take it you would be in favor of such a m-move?”
    Julian understood what was behind the question. Sir Robert and Lord Hugo had been fast friends. It was only natural that a son of Hugo’s would be sympathetic to the baronet. “Why not?” said Julian. “He is a beaten man. What can he do? At the first hint of trouble, the authorities would haul him off to the Tower.”
    “What can he do?” Lord Kirkland snorted. “What c-can he do? If you only knew Sir Robert Ward, you w-would not ask that question.”
    “What manner of man is he?” asked Julian, settling himself more comfortably in his chair.
    “You never met him?”
    “No. I didn’t come to London much until I sold out after Prestonpans. By that time, Sir Robert was in Scotland, fighting with the Prince. Later, of course, he was a fugitive and had made his way to