Page 39 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
Kit nodded. The gentlemen would curse at the earl’s volte-face and at the time wasted but then go on their way, none the wiser the whole thing had been a ruse. Alas, Gartside would not be venged, and Kit’s acquaintance with the earl would cease. Both of those outcomes had become equally undesirable over the last few days.
Kit’s disappointment must have still played across his face because Lando leaned forward to clasp his hand.
“But on my return, I would very much like us to…carry things forward. If you want that too, Kit. My…my bed has been far too large for far too long.”
As a flame of hope kindled, Kit caressed Lando’s dry, smooth palm before bringing it to his lips. “Then I am already counting down the hours.”
For the remainder of the short journey, Lando’s hand rested in his, and Kit comforted himself with the thought that the earl’s absence would at least render him opportunity to return to his lodgings. Whereupon he would be able to collect his residual belongings without any questions being asked as to his whereabouts. He squeezed Lando’s hand, picturing their reunion on Lando’s return.
“How should a senior customs officer alone in a strange city amuse himself whilst his host is away?” he teased.
“I’m very glad you asked.” Lando gave him a lopsided smile. “Pritchard informs me that Gartside can be found most afternoons riding his ugly mount through Regent’s Park. The north side is his usual hunting ground, where he can be sure to be seen. I’d like you to take the grey mare from my stables and contrive to bump into him. Drop hints that he’s my preferred choice—that I’m worried Cobham’s health is too poor to last the duration, and that I believe Sir Richard too cautious. Perhaps arrange another hand of cards for a few days’ time, just the two of you.”
If he never cast eyes on Gartside again, it would be a day too soon. Nonetheless, Lando’s idea held merit. If stroking the man’s ego and enduring another round of drinks and cards was what it took, then Kit would comply. Somewhat revived, Kit sat forward and ran his hands along the inner edge of Lando’s thighs, wishing the interior of the carriage wasn’t quite so visible from the busy street outside and that the journey was longer. “Bedding you would be much more preferable.”
“So, I imagine, would the pox,” answered Lando, drily. “But needs must.”
*
KIT WONDERED IFGartside filled his stables according to size. His mount, a bulky, unappealing beast, was by far the biggest trotting along Regent’s north avenue. In that regard, it was not dissimilar to its owner. Whereas the elegant eleventh earl rode as if his horse was an extension of his streamlined self, Gartside rode as if he he’d quarrelled with his an hour earlier. Never had Kit seen a mount less enthused at being ridden by his master. Admittedly, his own equine skills were modest, but the grey mare was placid and, like everything Rossingley, effortlessly stylish.
Gartside rode alone, so it proved no difficulty for Kit to arrange to be in his eyeline at a fork in the track.
“Ah, Angel,” he barked. “How the devil. I was just thinking about you.” Gartside cast a sharp glance over Kit’s shoulder. “Rossingley not choosing to partake of the air?”
“His lordship is travelling to Eton,” explained Kit, hoping he sounded as if earls travelling to Eton was part of his normal daily parlance. “To visit his sons. He’s away for two nights.”
Gartside nodded, his fleshy chin wobbling. “Always surprised me a tulip like that ever begat sons. Ride with me.”
Several replies to Gartside’s snide insinuation and imperious order were ready on Kit’s tongue, but he obediently swallowed them all and fell in alongside.
“How are you finding London?” Gartside queried. “A little more cut and thrust than the provinces, I daresay? A few more pleasurable diversions?”
An image of Lando, head bowed around his cock, flashed through Kit’s head. “Very much so. Though I am enjoying myself, I confess to looking forward to wrapping this business up and returning to Manchester. I have several commitments there and had to leave at a very inconvenient time.”
“Yes?” Gartside inclined his head, and Kit pushed on.
“No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid,” he replied with a hollow laugh. Ye gods, how easily he found stepping into the role since he’d decided to trust in Lando. “I have several other parties clamouring for my attention—land is being bought up left, right, and centre. One can scarcely keep pace with it all.”
“Is that so,” Gartside said carefully.
“I’ve had to take on another secretary to help manage the rush.” Kit made a show of glancing around as if ensuring they were alone, then dropped his voice. “Between you and me, if one has the readies, I wouldn’t be investing it anywhere else this year. What with all the newfangled machinery coming in, men such as the earl are set to make a very pretty penny.”
“Hmm.”
They trotted in silence for a few moments, Gartside deep in thought and Kit endeavouring to appear suitably grave.
“And you’re the gatekeeper to all these business deals, yes?” Gartside asked.
“Well.” Kit feigned modesty. “I don’t work entirely alone, of course. I answer to the Foreign Secretary first and foremost, but with Manchester being so far from London, it wouldn’t be wrong of me to admit to having some degree of autonomy. Parliament is so dreadfully busy, you understand, and one does have a significant amount of first-hand knowledge of the workings of the goods importing business. Like my father before me, I have lived and breathed imports and exports my whole life.” He gave a tinkly laugh, making himself cringe. “One might say it runs in my blood.”
“How the dickens do you whittle down which chap to sell to?”
Kit pretended to contemplate. “As long as the gentlemen interested in investing are of sound finances and background, Sir Ambrose—and a man such as yourself would be an excellent case in point—then I’m very much left to my own devices. Someone such as yourself—” He gave a simpering smile, detesting himself for trying to be so ingratiating with such an odious man. “—would have no trouble persuading me you were the right person for the job.”
“Naturally,” said Gartside briskly. “I am a baronet. Of impeccable standing.”
A true gentleman would never need to remind another of that fact, Kit thought.
