Maddening Minx

By Pearl Darling

Frozen by day, burning by night...

Celine knew it would come to a head one day. The missions she undertook for the shadowy Melinno society brought her entirely too close to the men she was keeping an eye on. And despite being warned she fell in love, not once, but twice. This time she will not walk away. If keeping Edward Fiske means fighting his enemies too, then so much the better.

But Edward is a man of many secrets, secrets that he has hidden in every precise motion, and every controlled flick of his pocket watch. Charged by Lord Granwich at the War Office to shadow Mr. Khaffar, the recipient of information from the traitor Pedro Moreno, Edward is not surprised when Mr. Khaffar comes after him with deadly intent; he has, after all, been the man’s accountant for the last year.

But Edward certainly does not expect be rescued by Celine, nor become embroiled in her affairs that seem strangely intertwined with his own. As the coincidences mount, they both return to the place where Edward's heart originally froze. There many truths are revealed, for Edward, Celine and Lord Granwich, in a dark bonfire of secrets, passion and intrigue...

Maddening Minx is a fast paced romantic mystery set against the back drop of the dazzling Regency era. It can be read standalone, or best as part of the ongoing Brambridge Novels mystery series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pearl Darling
• Release date: Feb 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781911536055

Pearl Darling

Pearl Darling is a lifelong Romance reader and caffeine addict. In between watching NCIS, avoiding gardening, and drinking lots of Earl Grey, she writes romantic suspense fiction and wonders when she will next go on holiday. She has published six books, all in the Brambridge Novels series. Her next book is a Brambridge Novella called ‘Wondrous Web’, and will be free when it is published to anyone that signs up her newsletter at www.pearldarling.com/free-book

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Edward descended the stairs from the attic, pushing the spider cobwebs out of the way with wind-milling thrusts of his right arm. Going up there had been madness. And yet he did so every time he visited.

A cackling followed his footsteps as he reached the bottom of the stairs and kicked the door shut with his boot. Wiping his hands on his coat, he strode down the hall, his feet clicking against the polished oak floorboards; mad mad mad with every step.

Ah there you are. You’ve been up to see her again, haven’t you? The middle-aged lady that appeared in front of him folded her arms across the gold lace of her bodice and glared at him with equally golden eyes.

Edward sighed. Yes, I have, as I do every time I visit.

Hmmph. Visit. You should be here all the time. There is plenty of work for you to do here.

I must go. I’m late already.

Back to London again I suppose?

Edward nodded. I’ll see Franklin and then I will be gone.

I don’t know why you don’t take him with you. It’s not natural to leave him behind. And to take his younger brother with you seems to me rather odd.

We have an arrangement.

The lady’s golden eyes bored into his. Your father and I had an arrangement.

Edward smiled. It’s not quite the same as mine with Franklin’s brother, Alasdair.

The lady did not laugh. Turning on her heel, she clattered back down the corridor and, entering a room to the right, slammed the door with a huff. I’ll not say goodbye, she shouted through the wood of the door.

Edward smiled. That was her way of saying goodbye.

Ducking his head into the open door on his left, he glanced around the room. Franklin stood in the corner, meticulously hanging the coats of Bath superfine and solid buckskin breeches and riding outfits on long hangers, before packing them into paper. He looked up and nodded.

Look after her…them, won’t you, Franklin? Contact me in the usual way through Alasdair. The offices in Islington haven’t moved. Edward scratched the side of his face. Two days’ growth and still his whiskers hadn’t lengthened.

I will, sir.

Edward banged the door jamb with a fist and turned to go. I’m off.

Err, sir!

Yes?

Your coat. Franklin pointed at Edward’s torso, his gaze flicking to where Edward had smeared the dust from the attic.

Ah yes. Good memory, thank you, Franklin. He shrugged off the coat in one fluid movement before crossing to the bed and laying the coat on the pile of clothes Franklin had already prepared. At least someone’s thinking clearly in this house.

Franklin breathed a heavy sigh and, picking up the dirty coat, hung it over the edge of the wardrobe. My regards to Alasdair, sir. He paused. Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer, sir? Your mother would be grateful I’m sure.

Edward shook his head. Next time, Franklin. I’ll pass on your regards to Alasdair. Whistling a jaunty sea shanty, Edward strode out of the bedroom and clattered down the stairs and into the great hall.

The butler waited for him with a brown ill tailored coat hanging loosely in his gloved fingers.

Alasdair is outside, sir. It looks like it might be beginning to snow.

Edward nodded. Thank you, Gabbers.

And, sir?

Yes, Gabbers?

When might we see you again?

Edward shook his head. I’m not sure. Something has come up.

"More important than this, sir?" The butler swept his arm around the hall, his hand ending to point up the hall stairs.

For the moment, yes. Edward pulled on the brown coat. Immediately his body stiffened from the familiar loping gait that had propelled him down the stairs. Pulling out a small comb from the inside pocket of the jacket, he inspected his windswept hair in the hall mirror. With smooth precise movements, he parted his hair on the side and brushed the unruly locks into a neat bowl cut.

The butler slid a golden object across the hall table. Your watch, sir?

Edward picked up the watch and ran his hand over the cold smooth metal casing that warmed beneath his touch. Thank you…sir.

Gabbers raised an eyebrow. I do wish you wouldn’t do that, sir.

With familiar movements, Edward flicked open the watch. Good grief! He was three minutes late. I must go.

He didn’t wait for Gabbers to open the front door, thrusting blindly through the great oak and iron studded door and into the mansion courtyard. Alasdair waited for him with a sturdy horse hitched to the dray. Gabbers waited silently behind him for a moment before slowly closing the door with a final click.

I thought you were never coming, Mr. Fiske! Alasdair said jovially.

You know me, Alasdair, always on time. Edward put a hand to where the pocket watch ticked against his heart. The gift from Cecile never slowed nor wavered. Unlike her attraction to me had. Unwillingly he glanced back at the solid stone of the enormous house that rose up behind him against a backdrop of gathering dull clouds. A white face gazed at him from a small window up in the battlements.

With a sigh, he turned back to face forwards. What are you waiting for, Alasdair? Business awaits!

Certainly it does, sir. Giving a click of his teeth to the old pony, Alasdair jerked at the reins and set the cart into motion.

For two miles they rattled along in silence, passing under the great avenue of elms, Edward’s straight back rubbing against the cart seat. As they came to the end of the drive and onto the lane, Alasdair drew the cart to a halt.

I believe, Mr. Fiske, that we have a situation. Alasdair put down the reins and reached under his cart seat.

Edward blinked as four men appeared suddenly from either side of the lane, large curved swords gleaming against their long breeches.

"I believe you do have a situation, Mr. Fiske." The voice was menacing, with the hint of an exotic accent that in this case repelled rather than intrigued.

Edward looked down to his left, his eyes catching first on the open shaft of a sword that was pointed at his brown suit, the hilt held by a large man of Eastern origin.

Ah! Mr. Khaffar! Edward forced out in jovial tones. I have your accounts right with me. If I may? Ignoring the sword, Edward descended the cart slowly and pulled three large bound ledgers from the back of the cart. Here we are. He stared down at his neat cramped handwriting that covered the page. All up to date. I was going to come and see you about the latest deposits you made. I wondered if you wanted them to go in the special account with Coutts or to another…establishment?

I’m not here to talk about that! Mr. Khaffar growled, the point of his sword shifting further up towards Edward’s neck. I want to know about your involvement with Lord Anglethorpe and Lord Granwich.

I’ve never done any business with them! Hah. That was precisely true, after all. Edward jerked backwards as the smooth blade touched the skin underneath his chin.

Mr. Khaffar narrowed his eyes and jabbed the sword further. I don’t believe you. With a beckoning motion, he urged his men forward. And the Earl of Rochester? Is he part of this as well?

Earl of Rochester? Part of what? Edward parroted weakly. He fumbled at his coat, grabbing at his pocket watch.

Yes, the man you have just been to visit! I would remind you, you are my accountant, Fiske, you agreed not to work for anyone else!

Ah, the lost Earl of Rochester? Edward swallowed, running his tongue around his dry mouth. Nobody knows where he is. No. I haven’t done any work for him either. Much to Mother’s chagrin.

Then why have you been to his house?

Oh dear. Edward glanced helplessly at Alasdair who had retrieved a double-barreled shotgun from beneath his seat. This was precisely the sort of situation he had never wanted to get caught in. Although of course he had expected it to be someone else that brought the subject up. Freddie Lassiter for example, or Lord Anglethorpe; certainly not Mr. Khaffar, a man wanted for murder, and for keeping secrets that had been passed to him by an underworld villain who had a horrifying taste for trafficking young girls.

Blinking, Edward looked up at the iron gray sky as a lone cold snowflake landed on his nose. How could he tell the violent man in front of him that he had been at the Rochester Castle to visit precisely no one but himself? After all, he, Edward Fiske, was the lost Earl of Rochester.

CHAPTER 1

No! She was too late! Celine hung grimly onto the window of her coach as it pounded down the frozen rutted tracks of the lonely road. Far across the fields she could just make out the small figures of a group of men spread around the stationary shape of a large cart.

Don’t get off the cart.

She screamed as the tall man, sat next to the cart driver, slowly edged off the cart’s front seat and disappeared from view behind the cart wheels, followed by a slightly shorter, but broader figure whose strangely curved sword glinted in the strong winter sunlight.

Will you be wanting Big Bess or Silent Sally, Celine? a calm voice asked behind her.

Celine ducked her head in from the coach window and blinked as the darkness of the carriage overwhelmed her. I…I…

For use in our current mission, the calm voice prompted further.

Gods. She couldn’t think straight. It had never been like this before. All the missions she had run for the Melinno Society and she had never had a brain freeze such as this. It was all Edward’s fault.

As her eyes grew used to the gloom, the solid figure of Silver appeared against the velvet benches. A large blunderbuss stood propped against her trousered legs, whilst she peered inside the barrel of a small flintlock pistol. A pair of dueling pistols lay on the bench next to her.

Celine jumped as Gunvald thumped on the carriage above. Another hundred yards and they would be upon the cart. As her cheeks smarted from the cold, suddenly her mind cleared.

I’ll take both.

Silver stared at her. Both?

Celine nodded.

And how are you going to do that?

I’ll carry Bess and push Sally into this bloody dress.

Silver’s eyes traveled down the curves of Celine’s red dress. Bella did a fine job.

Too fine a job, Celine muttered. Nobody would mistake me for a respectable woman.

"Celine, none of us are respectable women."

A thump rattled through the top of the carriage again. Bracing herself against the shuddering carriage wall, Celine plucked Silent Sally from Silver’s hands and pushed it into the bodice of her dress. Wordlessly, Silver offered her Big Bess. Weighing the large blunderbuss in her hand, Celine lurched to the open window again. Holding the long gun against the window frame she pushed her head out and craned her head towards Gunvald who was perched on top of the coach. The blond locks of his overlong hair ruffled in the passing wind as the coach lurched from one side of the road to the other.

Quit gabbing and get on with it, Celine, he roared, the traces of his Swedish accent strongly audible as he half stood, twitching masterfully at the reins to guide the galloping horses across the deep chasms in the road.

We’re going for plan C, she yelled.

He turned an incredulous gaze towards her before snapping his head back again to face forward. Plan C? Whatever you do you had better do it quickly. We are nearly there.

Plan C had been a joke. The plan that they would put into place if the unthinkable happened and they didn’t arrive in time. They’d tracked Mr. Khaffar across the county, shadowing his every move. At no time had he looked like he might make contact with Edward Fiske. He had laughed and joked with his band of men. And even if he had seen them, he hadn’t given Silver, Gunvald or Celine a second glance.

But he must have known they were there, for that morning they had awoken to find their coach axle snapped, chopped clean through with an axe. And Mr. Khaffar had gone.

Mr. Khaffar was not to know that Roland, dear, socially inept and mechanically minded Roland, the butt of continual jokes in the Melinno Society headquarters, had provided them with an ingenious piece of iron tubing before they left for the north. The contraption would join the broken axle pieces back together again and lock everything into place within the space of half an hour.

But half an hour was what they had needed. And what they had lost.

I’m bringing the coach round, Gunvald warned, leaning to the side as the coach lifted onto just three wheels.

Hooking her elbow around a small pole that ran from ceiling to floor, Celine sank to her knees and pushed Big Bess out of the open window.

The coach lifted onto just two wheels as it sharply left the road and entered the grand drive. The men that had gathered around the cart scattered, diving away from the dangerously lurching vehicle.

I can’t believe you are going to do this, Silver muttered audibly behind Celine. Nobody takes risks like you do.

Celine didn’t bother to reply. The butt of the blunderbuss pressed sharply against where she had stowed Silent Sally in her bodice.

She counted silently as they rounded the coach. One…two…three… She held her breath and pulled hard on the trigger.

The roar of the blunderbuss pushed her back into the carriage. Silver caught her and pushed her upright and forwards again with one hand whilst pulling the smoking barrel of Big Bess out of the way.

Celine didn’t stop to think. In one fluid movement she kicked open the carriage door and jumped to the ground as the moving carriage rolled away from her.

The two men that had been standing at the back of the cart stared at her. The shorter man, Mr. Khaffar, held his hand to his side, an expression of pain on his face, whilst the other man gripped him tightly by the arm.

Let go of him! Celine ordered, pulling Silent Sally out of her bodice. The men’s eyes widened as Celine’s dress swirled in the icy cold wind. She pulled back the flintlock. Let go of him, Edward, or he’ll lose another finger.

Celine? The supporting man, Edward, looked at her in astonishment. What the hell are you doing here?

Celine drew her finger across the gun trigger. The men flinched visibly. I’m rescuing you, you dolt. Come with me now. The rolling wheels of the carriage coming round for a second pass thundered loudly in her ears. Let go of him, Edward.

With a visible sigh, Edward Fiske, Celine’s most recent past paramour, let go of Mr. Khaffar’s arm and stepped away. And what now?

We run.

What in the—?

Celine turned and started running as the horses of her carriage cantered past her, imperceptibly slowing. With three quick strides she caught her hand through a leather loop on the offside edge of the carriage and pulled herself up as the carriage sped up again. Hiding her face in her shoulder against the biting wind she braced her elbow against the carriage, her feet firmly on a specially prepared ledge, and hoped that Edward had caught on quickly.

It seemed he had. The only warning she had was the slightest of grunts and then a warm body covered hers, a large foot pushing between her precariously balanced toes, and a hot hand sizzling against hers on the leather loop. With impossibly lithe movements for the normally unbending, stiff accountant, Edward swung his body into the wind streaming against Celine’s face, and then there was calm.

Celine lifted her head up. His face looked down into hers, intent, hard, close. The wind lifted his hair slightly and his mouth twisted in a wry smile. She stared as he brought his face closer, before tipping back her head, her mouth parting involuntarily, her eyes closing of their own accord.

His warm breath whispered against her cheeks, and then it was gone. Celine opened her eyes that she hadn’t realized she had closed. Edward stared back at her, his mouth open, his cheeks slacker somehow. And his eyes seemed to tot up her worth. She worked her mouth as his Adam’s apple moved.

Edward?

He shook his head with controlled movements. Freeing his hand briefly from the carriage, he tucked her head awkwardly into his shoulder and turned his face away from hers.

She barely felt the hard jolts of the carriage as her face pressed into the distinctly male smelling warm scratchy material of Edward’s jacket. Oh god, the comfort it brought, the feeling of safety and of predictability. Celine gasped and hung onto the leather strap as her foot slipped on the rail. Predictability? She brought her toe back onto the rail. Her balance felt off kilter somehow, as if at any second she would slide off the coach, if Edward’s body wasn’t in the way.

The horses galloped for four miles, first left on a road, then right on a track until Celine had completely lost all sense of direction. At last the carriage stopped, just as Celine began to lose the sensation in her fingers from hanging on to the tight leather loop. She shrank in on herself as the warm body that had pressed against hers drew itself away suddenly, and sunlight flooded her closed eyelids.

Slowly she opened her eyes, the biting cold hitting her face hard once more. Swallowing, she pulled one hand out of the loops she had clung to, and hung for an instant, before her newly released hand began to burn. With a moan she flinched, her trapped hand freeing quickly from the other loop. And then she fell.

She tried to roll into a ball, push her feet to the floor, anything to prevent the hard landing on the roadside. Instinctively she closed her eyes again, bringing her hands up to her face. But strong hands caught her as she rushed through the air.

Bloody hell, Celine. We are definitely not doing that again.

Celine gave a sigh of relief. Edward? She opened her eyes and met the piercing blue eyes of Gunvald. Oh. No.

Gunvald raised an eyebrow. Edward? You mean that so-called accountant that we just rescued?

"He is an accountant." He’d spent more time with his ledgers during their…relationship than he had with her.

Gunvald stared at her strangely for an instant and then dropped her feet none too gently to the ground. He steadied her shoulders as she stood shakily, and peered into her face again. Wordlessly he fished around in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a handkerchief. She took it gently with a finger and thumb and frowned.

Gunvald shook his head. It’s just a handkerchief, Celine. It doesn’t do anything else. Roland hasn’t been anywhere near it.

I know. She gave a shaky embarrassed laugh. I was just wondering why you were giving it to me.

Because you’ve got water on your face. Silver’s deadpan tones echoed behind them. Your accountant has rushed off into the cottage here. It seems that he found the journey a little bone shaking.

Oh! Celine pushed the handkerchief to her cheeks and pulled it across the bridge of her nose. It was no ordinary water. It was tears. It must have been the wind that made my eyes water. She blinked at the small white-washed cottage that fronted straight onto the road.

Gunvald made a hmph sound under his breath and swung away, picking up Big Bess from the floor, and a small knapsack. With quick strides he disappeared round the side of the cottage.

I’ve brought your things. Silver held out the leather bag that Celine took with her everywhere. Celine nodded and bent over to push the handkerchief into her bag. As she leaned forward, Silent Sally slid out of her bodice and fell to the ground with a dull thud, the flintlock still cocked, the powder sliding in the pan. She gasped and stared at the small deadly gun. For goodness’ sake she could have killed Edward and herself both as they jolted on the carriage.

Uncharacteristically Silver bent and gingerly reset the small pistol, before pushing it into Celine’s leather bag. Sniffing, she picked up her own bag and handed Celine the leather one. That was quite a leap onto the coach that you did. I’ve not seen you do that to a moving carriage before.

Celine sighed inwardly with relief as she followed the short dependable figure of Silver round the side of the cottage. I know, she said brightly. I think I did it once…probably around that time when that dolt Charles Fashington was chasing after Agatha Beauregard during the Lady Guthrie affair. Of course then it was a bit of fun…

That was when you were with Lord Anglethorpe wasn’t it? Silver said without turning.

Yes I believe it was but… Her steps slowed as she rounded the side of the cottage. The front door was open, and Edward’s serious face shone lightly in the gloomy interior. Oh no.

Silver continued in a normal voice. Pity you didn’t get to marry him. That would have been a very comfortable life indeed. Of course you would have had to have given all of this up. Silver turned and swept her arms to the coach, noticing Celine’s face for the first time. She stopped. Oh dear. I’ve said the wrong thing again, haven’t I?

Perhaps a little, Celine squeaked. She never squeaked.

"Ah, amore," Silver sang under her breath.

Silver!

Silver sighed audibly and sobered. She stopped and put a hand on Celine’s arm. Celine, wait.

Celine looked into Silver’s plain face. The eyes that had given Silver her name held no mirth.

My father came to me two weeks ago. Silver’s eyes flickered. You remember I had told you he hadn’t enough money to pay for coal?

Celine nodded. I remember.

He said that someone brought a sack of coal and left it in his rooms. Enough to last for several months. An anonymous someone.

How wonderful! Celine pushed her face into a delighted smile.

Silver shook her head in frustration. You were the only person I told, you know my relationship with my father.

Celine lifted her chin. Do I look like I am strong enough to lift a sack of coal into a person’s room?

Silver shook her head. Well no, but still—

Celine licked her lips and started off for the cottage without letting Silver finish her words. She ducked as she passed underneath the low lintel of the front door. Her eyesight dimmed as her vision grew used to the gloom of the front room. A large burly man sat opposite Edward, a beard of enormous proportions falling to his protruding belly. Behind him hung rabbits, and birds of every forest hue. His slightly sunken eyes took in Silver’s pantaloons and Celine’s revealing dress with one flicker of an eyelid.

I don’t often get visitors, he said in a gruff voice. He turned his gaze to Edward who smiled weakly back. Especially ones as throws up as soon as they enter my cottage.

Celine narrowed her eyes as Edward nodded woodenly and the large man sat further back on his chair.

I had to sponge him down with a large cloth when he was finished. By the way, you can call me Robert. Robert nodded slowly, his beard brushing his chest, and looked at Edward. I work for his lordship.

CHAPTER 2

Edward shook his head imperceptibly at Robert, but the rotund giant refused to look him dead in the face again. Yes, they had cooked up the fib that Edward had been sick in order to cover the reason why he had shot into the cottage so quickly, and why they had locked themselves in the back room until the blond handsome giant that Celine was obviously connected to, had hammered on the door and demanded to know what they were doing.

But they didn’t all need to know the finer details of Edward’s stomach contents and certainly not about Robert’s job.

Robert looked around and obviously noted the confusion. Yon man over here has told us you are in need of a bit of shelter. I’m Lord Rochester’s gamekeeper, Robert clarified. He sat back and folded his arms.

Really? Gunvald said sarcastically, poking at one of the rabbits strung by its back legs. I would have taken you for a poacher myself.

Robert rose from his chair and squared up to Gunvald. They were about the same height. I am his gamekeeper, Robert growled in drawn out tones. His gaze flickered to Edward’s. And whilst his lordship is away, I keep an eye on his grounds. See?

Edward buried his head in his hands. In his eyes Robert had always been a big, burly giant. Right from when Edward was small and would play in this very cottage. Robert had been the man to teach Edward how to shoot, tramping through the grounds of the Rochester estate for hours, for days even, until he would arrive back at Rochester Castle, wishing, hoping, that he would find his mother in a serene state, and his father…his father lucid.

But although Robert was a large burly man, he was a man of the forest. Not a man of words. And he had a pride to him.

Whilst Lord Rochester is away? Gunvald said slowly, looking into Robert’s face. I thought Lord Rochester was famously lost.

Edward schooled his face into his most wooden and boring expression. Ah, how easy that was. I think you will find that the parlance of ‘Lord Rochester being away’ is what the local folk around here term his lordship’s absence from the estate. Ahem.

Gunvald turned a suspicious gaze towards him. Edward carefully kept his face still, and clicked his feet together precisely under the table, but he almost fell apart as he caught Celine’s beautiful features out of the corner of his eyes. He had to keep it together.

I would of course know, he said in a voice of one pitch, because I am his lordship’s accountant and I meet the family once a year to go through their accounts.

So that was what you were doing on Lord Rochester’s drive? Gunvald sniffed. We came all the way up north for a bloody businessman, Celine?

Robert stiffened, his hands rising from his side. You don’t speak about—

Robert, Edward barked. Gunvald turned his piercing gaze on him. I don’t know who you are, the gaze said, but I don’t believe a word of what is being said around here. Robert, Edward smiled weakly and strove to regain the boring voice he had perfected earlier, would you be so kind to provide us with some food as I believe we might be continuing our journey very soon?

We should stay the night here, Celine said quietly behind