Page 86 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Chapter 18
Whiddon woke before dawn, feeling lighter and more carefree since . . . since he could remember. It made not a whit of sense. He carried all the same burdens, in addition to the heavy news about Hurley and jewels.
Easing his arm from around his wife, he moved carefully from the bed. She shifted and sighed in her sleep but didn’t wake. He stood at the edge, watching her, feeling the rush of emotion wash over him—and allowing it to come, for once, instead of pushing it away.
She was the reason his burdens felt lighter, why he faced the day with optimism instead of dread. Whatever happened, she would stand at his shoulder. They would face it together. She’d given him his sister. She’d given him her trust.
It was that last thought that made him feel like he could move mountains.
He went next door instead, to ask Chapman to help him dress in the countess’s rooms, so that she could sleep on. He went downstairs and consulted with Mr. Flemming, who agreed to his request and started chopping, mixing and calling out orders with a flourish. And he called Old Alf and Margie to the dining room and set them to work while he went to summon his friends.
A couple of hours passed before he returned to his room. Charlotte still slept. He was incredibly tempted to crawl in with her and give her a thorough . . . waking, but there was no time. Instead, he leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “Wake up, slugabed. Mischief is afoot. You don’t want to miss it.”
She cringed and lifted her shoulder to protect a ticklish spot. “Mmm.” Rolling over, she opened her eyes. They widened instantly and he had to move quickly out of the way as she lurched to sit up.
“Good heavens! You are dressed. It’s so light out! Have I slept so late?”
“Indeed, you have.” He smirked at her. “I would apologize for waking you in the dark of night for point number six, except—”
“I wouldn’t believe you?” she asked wryly.
“Nor should you, as every word would be a lie.” He kissed her soundly and moved away from the very real temptation to do more. “But you must rise, now. Margie is waiting. I’ve sent for Chester, Sterne, Tensford—and even Stoneacre. They will be here within the hour, and you don’t wish to miss the war council, as you so aptly named it. We are convening over breakfast.”
“Over breakfast?” Her mouth dropped. “Here?”
“Yes. Here. We’ve been making preparations. Let Margie dress you so that you can inspect our work.”
She didn’t tally long over her toilette, but she looked beautiful when he met her coming down the stairs. Her hair was gathered loosely at her nape and her day gown was of the lightest blue, sprigged with darker blue blooms. “You look like a perfect summer day.”
Laughing, she came close and brushed something from the side of his mouth. “And you look like you started without us.”
He grinned. “It couldn’t be helped. Mr. Flemming has made hot, buttered crumpets. Now, come and give us your stamp of approval.”
He led her to the dining room, where Margie waited with bated breath and Old Alf was setting up warming platters along the sideboard.
“Oh! The chandelier is hung!” Charlotte smiled warmly at the footman. “Did you do that, Alfred?”
“Just this morning, ma’am.”
“It looks wonderful. And so does the rest of the room, Margie. Thank you both, so much.”
Both servants looked gratified, but strangely, Whiddon thought they couldn’t match the swell in his heart as a parade of kitchen maids filed in with dishes from the kitchen. He spotted an egg pie, rashers of ham and bacon, fruited pastries, and of course, the hot, buttered crumpets. He pulled Charlotte aside. “I cannot tell you of the countless times I have eaten breakfast at Tensford’s table, or Sterne’s. Even Chester’s grandmother has fed me. This is the first time I’ve been able to return the favor—and I never expected to feel such satisfaction from it.” He took her hand and squeezed. “It’s another gift you’ve given me—one I had no idea would mean so much.”
She smiled and blinked back tears, but a knock sounded on the front door and they both turned to go and meet their guests—and begin to plan their campaign.
They accomplished a great deal. Whiddon caught everyone up on the latest developments. He put Chapman in charge of looking for Hurley through his contacts in the network of London servants. Sterne mentioned that Derby, his valet, might like a chance at a bit of intrigue.
“Charlotte has made up some sketches of Hurley that might be of help,” Whiddon said. He raised a brow in her direction. “Could you do an extra set for Derby?”
She flushed and assured him she could.
Stoneacre requested the names of the refugees Whiddon had yet to locate. He hoped to use his government contacts to perhaps track them down. The others planned to help search them out as well, as everyone agreed that it would be best for them to find them before Hurley did. Whiddon would make first contact with them once they were found.
“I cannot implicate my father when I speak to them,” he said with a sigh. “No matter how much he deserves to be exposed. What I’ve been saying is that my brother and I recently discovered the truth about the thefts carried out by smugglers that operated from our holdings.”
“Which is true,” Charlotte said stoutly.
“It’s not the whole truth, and some of them must know it.” He shrugged. “But I cannot betray my father so completely.”
