A snort was her initial reply. “That is Elwood Tyburne, the Earl of Belmont.” She wagged her finger close to her face. “If you are smart, miss, you would do well to steer clear of that libertine.”
With that warning, the woman flounced off. Meliah shook her head and decided that couldn’t be “The Belle.” At least, she refused to believe she could be that unforgiving. From Meliah’s view, “The Belle” didn’t sound rude in her columns. She was just warning unsuspecting ladies of the sort of men they should do well to avoid.
She wished she could actually converse with the true author, but as Samantha had told her, it was virtually impossible to learn her identity. Several had tried and failed before her.
In that regard, Meliah decided to devote her efforts to Lord B.
The Earl of Belmont.
She smiled as she rushed back to where her friend could be found with her orange stand. Meliah thought Samantha would be just as excited as she was to learn that her target had been discovered. Instead, the girl’s brown eyes had widened perceptibly. “You can’t mean to approach anearl.”
Meliah rolled her eyes. “I don’t intend to just waltz up to him on the street and demand, ‘Pardon me, Lord Belmont, but is it true that all these accusations have no merit? And if so, would you mind if I interviewed you so that I can fulfill my dream of being a writer?’”
Again, Samantha didn’t appear amused. “That’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say it was. But I do have a plan in mind, but you will have to tell me where he lives.”
“Why?” Samantha eyed her warily. “What are you going to do?”
Meliah knew she couldn’t reveal that part or she would never hear the end of it, and any chance she might have of carrying out her plans would never transpire. She needed her friend’s help, but not at the expense of her blistered ears. “Please, Sam. I swear I will never ask another favor from you again. Just trust me.”
She held her breath, because it seemed as though she wasn’t going to gain any more information, but in the end, Samantha sighed heavily. “Very well. Just don’t make me regret it.”
Taking it as concern for her wellbeing, Meliah allowed the slight chiding. She was warmed by her concern, and it wasn’t as though Samantha didn’t have a right to be worried. Meliah intended to make her way into Belmont’s townhouse and corner him into telling the truth. She hadn’t yet figured exactly how she might accomplish this yet, but she was sure she would figure it out before she was standing in front of him.
She was grateful that Samantha had gone along with the tale Meliah had spun to her parents, that she was spending the night with Samantha in Covent Garden, which was a decidedly shorter distance to Mayfair than Spitalfields. Meliah also owed her a debt for the use of the gown she currently wore. One of the ladies’ of the manor that Samantha’s sweetheart worked for intended to have it altered. But before it arrived at the seamstress, it had taken a slight detour.
Meliah crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed that this evening would go as well as she hoped it would, and then she said to Samantha, “I don’t intend the earl any harm, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not, actually,” Samantha returned dryly. “I’m more concerned out what I might end up reading in the papers aboutyou.”
CHAPTER 2
All was silent in the townhouse when Elwood checked his reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t been too keen on asking one of his footmen to head to Drury Lane and see if there were any costumes that they might be retiring, but he had been desperate to sneak out of his townhouse without being observed. Although he was choosing to leave in the middle of the night, he didn’t want to take any chances that he would be recognized, thus a disguise had been in order.
He'd gone so far as to hire an unmarked carriage that would take him to his hunting box where he could hide out in blessed solitude for the next few weeks until the worst of the pandemonium had died down. He had ensured that the proper provisions had been sent ahead, along with the threat to his faithful servants that anyone who dared to breathe a word of his whereabouts would be sacked without a reference. He demanded loyalty now, more than ever.
As he was checking to make sure the false brown moustache and beard were firmly in place, the cloak and robes of Prospero from Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” concealing his form, he realized he had never sunk so low in his life. He was more than a bit resentful that he was being forced to abdicate hisentertainments and scurry into hiding because some blasted woman with a vendetta had chosen to set her sights on him and not the true culprit of her angst. If he ever gained the opportunity to meet this thorn in his side, he would gladly give her a piece of his mind.
Elwood was about to turn around when from the corner of his eye, he spotted a slight shadow behind him. Instantly on alert, he grabbed the silver headed cane he always kept nearby and held it out in front of him toward the intruder as if it contained the sword the article had claimed. Sadly, it was just a painted piece of wood. “Whoever you are, state your business and leave before I send for the watch.” He did his best to sound menacing, but when there was a snort, followed by a slight feminine chuckle, he was momentarily taken off guard.
“You look positively ridiculous.”
He frowned, pride overriding his anger at being accosted in his own home. Rather than refute her statement, because he had been thinking the same, he chose to ignore the slight and demanded, “How did you get in here?”
Although it was too dark to see more than her silhouette, he saw one shoulder shrug nonchalantly. “It wasn’t that difficult. I climbed the tree and let myself in the room next to this one since the latch was unlocked. Not a very secure residence you have, I might add. What if the intruder might have meant you harm?” Elwood blinked, having trouble following the conversation at this point. “When I heard movement inside here, I knew that this must be your chamber.”
He lifted a brow at the last, more impressed than he would like to admit. “What if I wasn’t alone?”
She shrugged again. “I would have waited.”
Slowly lowering his cane, he set the tip on the ground and leaned his hands on it. At this point, he was starting to becomemore curious about his late-night visitor, rather than actually annoyed. “What are you doing here?”
“I mean to learn what everyone else doesn’t have the courage to ask.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“If the rumors that ‘The Belle’ wrote about you are true or not.”
