Chapter 1

1

October, 1826

St. James Square, London

The last time Joshua Norcross had entered the home of Lady Camilla Bowles Attington Carrington Whitby, his late grandmother's dearest friend, he was twenty-two years old, more than half seas over, pockets-to-let, and essentially homeless. He was also sporting a black eye and a bloody lip from his final fight with his brother. At least this time, as he followed her tall, arrogant, poker-stiff butler up the stairs, he was sober and in possession of rented rooms at Albany. And he had not been involved in a bout of fisticuffs for at least six months.

Then, the grande dame of St, James Square had summoned him to offer him a place to live and lick his wounds after the death of his father and his elder brother disowning him. Now, at thirty, Joshua made a modest, very modest, living teaching music lessons and composing for the various opera houses in Town. He had great ambitions for the future and could not for the life of him decide why Lady Camilla had sent for him. One did not, however, ignore a summons from this particular lady. Ever.

One thing he knew for certain. If she intended to broker some sort of reconciliation between him and his family, her efforts were destined for failure. They'd never forgiven him for refusing the role in life they'd chosen for him. He'd never forgiven them for separating him from his mother until all he could do was mourn her. One thing was for certain. Lady Camilla did not issue an invitation to anyone without some scheme in mind. Which frightened the hell out of him.

The butler stopped before the double doors into Lady Camilla's private parlor. He knocked once, opened one of the doors, and indicated Joshua should enter.

"Thank you, Raines," Joshua said as he stepped past him. "I think." He heard the man cough, to cover a laugh no doubt. "Good morning, Lady Camilla. You are looking glorious as always." He crossed the room to press a kiss to the be-ringed hand she extended whilst seated on her pink and gold striped chaise—her throne as they were all wont to call it out of her hearing. She had redecorated. Again. The last time he'd visited, this room was done in blues and greens.

"And you are still the same flatterer you were as a boy," Lady Camilla replied. "I have missed you." She patted the spot next to her on the chaise.

"I have been remiss in not visiting you sooner, my lady. I have been much occupied with my music and such. Carrington-Bowles, good to see you." He shook the hand of the man who had risen from one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs that matched the chaise. Lionel Carrington-Bowles was Lady Camilla's notoriously handsome, golden-haired favorite nephew.

"Good to see you too, Norcross." He turned to the gentleman who had risen from the other matched chair. "Allow me to make known to you—"

"Nathaniel Charpentier," Joshua said as he shook the dark-haired man's hand. "I am more than pleased to finally meet you. I saw you at the opera ball benefit a few weeks ago. You catered the event. You, sir, are a genius." He finally sat down next to Lady Camilla.

"You're right, Lionel," the famous chef said. "I like him."

Lady Camilla rolled her eyes. "Flatterer," she said. "I warned you."

Charpentier returned to his chair, but Carrington-Bowles elected to sit on the arm of that chair rather than return to his own. Joshua had known him since they were both young men away at school. He'd heard through his opera connections of the nature of the friendship between these two men. He was happy for his old friend. Lionel Carrington-Bowles had been the one to bring Joshua's banishment from his family home to Lady Camilla's attention. He owed him.

"Joshua, I have a favor to ask of you. More like a proposition in truth."

"Now the niceties have been observed," Carrington-Bowles said with a grin."

"Hush." His aunt shot him a censuring glare. "The proposition is simple. The Earl of Framlingwood wishes to engage you as music master for his mistress, a Mrs. Sophia Hawksworth. She is a talented harpist."

Immediately the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He made part of his living as music master to the daughters of the ton, wealthy widows, and even some children. Not once had those who hired him done so through someone as highly placed in society as Lady Camilla. An earl would set his man of business this task. One glance at Carrington-Bowles's face and Joshua's suspicions were confirmed. There was more to this than meets the eye, and then some.

"Is there a reason the earl is not requesting my services himself, my lady?"

Carrington-Bowles coughed, which earned him another glare.

"It is a delicate situation, and he has asked for my assistance. He will pay you handsomely, and there is a large sum that may be awarded you once your tutoring of this lady is done."

What the devil? Lady Camilla was known for two things—her network of spies all over London and her ability to scheme better than any politician or military man under the king's command. "Very well," Joshua said. "I'll bite. What is this offered situation truly about?"

‘Really, Joshua." Lady Camilla sniffed. "What makes you think I would offer you some sort of specious position?"

"He did live here for quite some time, Aunt. In the interest of efficiency would you allow me to explain?"

She signed dramatically and waved her hand at her nephew. "Very well. If you must."

"Are you acquainted with the earl?" Carrington-Bowles asked.

"I have heard the name, but we've never met. He has that rather large Palladian home on Grosvenor Square, if memory serves."

"That's him. His mistress lives on Grosvenor Street. She is a talented musician, but she never learned to read or write music. She would like to acquire the skill, according to Framlingham's housekeeper. But you would not be there strictly as a music master. This particular position requires a few extra duties. You would also be serving as the lady's bodyguard. Apparently one of Framlingham's mistresses is a murderess and he is being blackmailed on her behalf. Their lives have been threatened if he does not pay and—"

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Joshua waved his hands a moment and then pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He ran his old friend's words through his mind again. The vein at his temple began to pulse. Never a good sign. "Go back to the part about mistresses and murder."

"You should have let me explain," Lady Camilla said, her lips pursed in a pout.

"If you explain his head will explode, dearest."

"Too late," Joshua muttered. He raised his head and lifted one finger to stop Carrington-Bowles from continuing, but kept his eyes closed. Not that it helped. "How many mistresses does this earl have?"

"Five," Carrington-Bowles and Charpentier said together.

Joshua nodded mutely. He took a breath. "And the one I am to teach lives on Grosvenor Street."

"They all live on Grosvenor Street. In townhouses. Next to each other," Charpentier explained in a tone that sounded very close to laughter.

His eyes popped open so quickly his vision blurred. He shook his head. "And one of them is a murderess. Which one?"

"That is part of those extra duties of which Aunt Camilla spoke," CB said. "During your time as her music master and bodyguard, should you be able to befriend this woman to the point she tells you of her past—Wait, where are you going?"

"Going?" Joshua had leapt to his feet. He bowed to Lady Camilla. "Mad, if I stay here one more minute. I thank you for the kind offer, but I have yet to witness a farce in Covent Garden as ridiculous as this."

"I told you," Charpentier said as he held his palm out to Lady Camilla. You owe me ten pounds, my lady."

Joshua snatched open the door only to nearly run over the butler, Raines, followed by a footman bearing a large tea tray.

"The prize for discovering which lady is the murderess is ten thousand pounds." Joshua slammed the door in the butler's face and spun on his heel to face his friend. "In addition to what he is willing to pay your for the lessons and keeping the lady safe. Are you still interested in opening your own opera house?" CB fixed him with a steady, expectant stare.

Charpentier had left his chair and gone to the ornate cherrywood sideboard between the two floor-to-ceiling windows. He came to Joshua and handed him a leaded crystal glass of brandy.

Joshua stared into the glass. "Isn't it a bit early…" He looked up and found Charpentier and Carrington-Bowles shaking their heads at him. He downed the glass in one long draught. The door opened behind him and Raines strode past giving him a disdainful snort as he did. Lady Camilla beckoned Joshua to her, and he walked slowly back to sit on the chaise.

The word mistake kept running through his mind. Followed closely by the word run. But over everything he heard ten thousand pounds. All the years of working in every opera house in London and teaching the talentless widows and daughters of the ton's aristocrats had not brought him anywhere near as close to opening his own house. Was he desperate enough to enter into this lunacy that started with working for a man mad enough to keep five mistresses?

Once the footman and butler had arranged the contents of the tray on the table in front of the chaise, they quit the room. Lady Camilla set about preparing and pouring the tea for them. Joshua stared at the various enticing tidbits on silver salvers. He recognized some from the opera ball. Charpentier obviously did not confine his cooking to his catering business or the erotic dining club he was rumored to have made so famous one had to have an invitation to visit.

Joshua filled a small Sevres china plate with the delicacies. His mind had gone blank. Apparently he'd gone deaf as well. No one was saying a word. He looked up from his study of the food on his plate and found them all staring at him.

"Talk," he said as he picked up a dainty little crab cake. "God help me, I'm listening."

An hour later Joshua was unable to decide which he regretted more—the rich food and brandy he'd stuffed himself with while listening to the entire scheme or actually listening to the scheme in the first place. The rocking of Lady Camilla's well-sprung carriage as they traveled from St. James Square to the Earl of Framlingwood's home in Grosvenor Square did not help at all. Between Carrington-Bowles, Charpentier, and Lady Camilla, the situation and his place in it had been explained very carefully. The only problem? His head still spun as if he'd spent the last two days drinking blue ruin like a sailor home from the sea.

"Framlingwood actually believes these five women don't know about each other?" he asked for the third time.

"According to Forsythe and Colwyn, he does. Since this entire blackmail episode started he has assured all of us these women are completely unaware of their neighbors and their neighbors' connection to their mutual protector."

"Is he mad or simply suicidal?"

The two men laughed. "A bit of both I should think," Charpentier said. "Best not to mention it or ask him. He is, from my understanding, the managing sort and does not like to be questioned."

"He keeps five women and does not like to be questioned?" They all three exchanged a glance before a bout of hearty laughter ensued. "He did not think this through, did he?"

"Decidedly not," Carrington-Bowles agreed. "Apparently, his housekeeper on Grosvenor Street keeps everything in order. You will meet her today as well."

"So long as I don't meet the blackmailer or the murderess today. I'm not certain my constitution could forebear much more without a good night's rest. Or perhaps a month's repairing lease in the country." He scrubbed his hands over his face, still amazed he'd agreed to even entertain this position.

"Col is on this, Norcross. He'll have the blackmailer tracked down in no time. Sythe is working on the mystery as well."

Joshua remembered Archer Colwyn and Stephen Forsythe well. They were both capable and blessed with dogged determination, or at least they had been through their years at school. Their inclusion in this adventure gave him some assurance of success or that he'd at least escape with his life.

"There are plenty of music masters in London. One can scarce throw a stone in Covent Garden without hitting one. What made Lady Camilla think I would do as both music master and bodyguard for this woman? I'm rather fond of my teeth where they are and all of my limbs in working order. I'm a man of music, not a man of violence."

Carrington-Bowles snorted. "Would you like for me to list the gentlemen whose corks you have drawn since I have known you?"

"List?" Charpentier said with overdramatic interest.

"Oh yes. Your former employer and now business partner." Carrington-Bowles raised a finger as if to begin a count, the fiend.

"You fought with the Earl of Livingston?" Charpentier looked Joshua up and down with an expression of respect.

"Twice," Carrington-Bowles said before he continued. "The Earl of Creighton, the Marquess of Sythe, Devlin St. George, Viscount Turville-before he went off to war and lost his leg, and an entire contingent of His Majesty's Royal Navy from the Speedwell. Shall I go on?"

"Stubble it, CB. Those days are over. I don't do that sort of thing anymore."

"You punched Viscount Ravenwood in the nose six months ago, or so I was told." Carrington-Bowles and Charpentier gazed at him expectantly.

"He was manhandling one of the opera dancers at the Theatre Royal." The carriage drew to a halt. Joshua reached for the door handle.

"You'll do fine, Norcross. Stop worrying." Carrington-Bowles looked entirely too smug for Joshua's comfort.

"Good luck," Charpentier called as Joshua left the carriage and went to the door of the Earl of Framlingwood's home. By the time he knocked and the door opened, Lady Camilla's carriage had rounded the corner out of sight.

"Mr. Norcross?" an impeccably dressed butler inquired as he took Joshua's hat and gloves.

"Yes. I believe his lordship is—"

"Expecting you? Yes. Please follow me." The servant led him up the stairs and down a labyrinth of corridors carpeted in pristine Persian carpets and lined with priceless works of art. If his home was any indication, the Earl of Framlingwood was rich as Croesus. Good. All Joshua had to do was keep his mind on the money he would be paid and the possibility of the ten- thousand-pound prize. There were peers of the land who had an income less than that each year. All he had to do was participate in the most ludicrous employment he'd ever encountered, and the money to open his own opera house might soon be his. If he survived.

The butler stopped before a large six-panel oak door, knocked, and pushed open the door to allow Joshua entrance.

"Mr. Norcross." A tall, lanky gentleman turned out in Weston's finest rose from behind a large mahogany desk and extended his hand. "I'm Framlingwood," he said, and shook Joshua's hand. "Please sit down." He indicated one of the two chairs in front of the desk. In the other chair a strikingly handsome woman, rather modestly dressed, sat with her hands folded in her lap. "Allow me to make known to you Mrs. Cassandra Collins. You will be in her charge for the most part, as I am certain Lady Camilla told you. Mrs. Collins, this is Mr. Norcross."

"Really, my lord," the lady protested. "Mr. Norcross is a gentleman. He can hardly be under my command. He works for you, just as I do." She gave the earl a reproving sort of look, like a governess. The earl actually grinned until he saw Joshua's raised eyebrows.

"Mrs. Collins." Joshua gave her a bow before he took his seat. "From what Lady Camilla tells me you are indeed in charge of everything and everyone when it comes to his lordship's Grosvenor Street…arrangements. I assure you I have no qualms about taking my orders from you."

He turned his attention to the earl only to find the man's face stony and most definitely unamused. He glanced at Mrs. Collins who regarded her employer with a measured, unconcerned expression. Something vibrated in the room and Joshua decided to tuck that bit of information away for future study.

"Now, my lord," he said decidedly as he met the earl's gaze directly. "Lady Camilla and Carrington-Bowles have explained the situation and what my duties are. Perhaps you would like to enlighten me as to what you expect and what is truly afoot here."

"You're direct. Good. That will make things easier." Framlingwood leaned back in his chair with his elbows propped on the arms and his fingers steepled in front of his chest. "A number of weeks ago I received a note from someone declaring one of the ladies under my protection is a murderess. I was ordered to pay him a certain sum to keep this information out of the gossip rags. However, thanks to the work of Mr. Stephen Forsythe and Mr. Archer Colwyn, with whom I believe you are acquainted, I have come to realize the man is also working to discover the woman's identity in the hope of collecting some sort of reward for her capture. One of the ladies was kidnapped."

"Good God." Joshua rubbed his hand across his mouth.

"She is safe. The bodyguard we put in her house helped us to save her. She is recently wed and now safely out of danger."

"And she is not the murderess?"

"No, she is not." The earl leaned forward. "Each of my mistresses has her secrets. I have no wish to know them. I have learned my lesson when it comes to prying into a woman's past. You will teach Sophia whatever she wishes to learn about the composition of music. And if, in the course of those lessons, you discover she has done something…desperate… you will let me know, and I will do all I can to protect her."

"You do not care if she is a murderess?" Joshua endeavored to decide what sort of man he was dealing with, but the earl did not make the task an easy one.

"So long as she doesn't murder me, no. Not at all."

"You're keeping five, now four, mistresses in houses on the same street and hope they don't find out about each other? Pardon my saying so, but with what I know of women, murder is a distinct possibility."

"Perhaps. But I have discovered with any woman that is always a possibility."

Mrs. Collins cleared her throat, and when they both looked at the housekeeper she rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded very like "men."

"No offence, Mrs. Collins," the earl offered.

"Hmmm," was all she said in return.

"Do you have any questions for me, Norcross?" He opened a desk drawer and drew out a leather pouch which clinked noisily when he tossed it onto the desk.

"None that make any sense." Joshua decided his head would likely spin until this little assignment was done, one way or another. He might as well enjoy the ride.

"Good man." The earl tossed the leather pouch to him. "A small payment in advance." He stood and Joshua rose as well. "You understand the need for secrecy in all of this, don't you, Norcross? These goings on do not need to appear in the gossip sheets, and I do not want the ladies upset either. So far as Sophia is concerned, you are there to teach her music, nothing more."

"Of course. You can rely on me." He shook the earl's hand and turned to leave.

"Mrs. Collins and you will take my carriage to Grosvenor Street. She will introduce you to Sophia, and then you can take up your residence there this afternoon."

"Residence? I'm going to live with your mistress?"

"You are going to live in her house. Not her bedchamber. Mrs. Collins will explain, won't you, Mrs. Collins?"

"Apparently," the housekeeper muttered as she stood and beckoned for Joshua to follow.

The earl dragged a stack of papers across his desk and began to go through them. They had been dismissed. Mrs. Collins was quite strong for so slight a woman. She had taken the arm he offered her and maneuvered him through the corridors and down the stairs into the foyer before he knew what happened.

"Is the carriage ready, Brighton?" she asked the butler when he handed Joshua his hat and gloves.

"Yes, Mrs. Collins. Good day."

Joshua helped the housekeeper into the carriage and glanced back at the house. His entire morning had become the sort of play one expected to see at Drury Lane. Whether it would be a comedy or tragedy remained to be seen.

"Are things always so havey-cavey in Framlingwood's household? Households?" he asked, as he climbed into the carriage and took the seat behind the horses.

"Oh yes," she said cheerfully. "But you will become accustomed to it."

"I will?" The roil in his stomach kicked up again with a vengeance.

"Yes, or you'll end up in Bedlam. Either is a possibility. Now, what reason do you plan to give our Sophie for you having to live in her house?"