An Earl To Save Her Reputation. Laura Martin

if on the surface she didn’t want his help.

      ‘I’m not sure how much you know about me,’ Lady Fortescue said quietly as they entered Hyde Park. It was a sunny day, but still chilly for April, and there weren’t many people out taking the air at this hour.

      ‘Not all that much,’ Harry said, realising it was the truth. He’d heard many rumours, but none of them had included any information of substance.

      ‘I’ve been married three times,’ Lady Fortescue said, looking straight ahead as she spoke. ‘My first husband was elderly and infirm, wealthy, of course, with a title. My father arranged the marriage and it was assumed it would not be a long-lasting union. He died seven months after we were married.’

      ‘Lord Humphries,’ Harry said. He remembered the announcement now and his mother sympathising with the young debutante who’d been forced into marrying such an elderly man.

      ‘I was in mourning for a year and then I met Captain Trevels. I was a widow of some means and independent enough to make my own decisions, so I married Captain Trevels against my father’s wishes.’

      This union Harry had been unaware of. No doubt Lady Fortescue’s family had wanted to hush up what they saw as an inferior match for their daughter.

      ‘Soon after we married my husband was sent to India for a year. On his return he was dreadfully unwell and died only four weeks after our reunion.’

      Two dead husbands in the space of a couple of years, but despite the society gossip there seemed nothing untoward about the deaths. Elderly men and officers of the army died all too often.

      ‘Unfortunately my second husband had been a little too free with my inheritance and after my mourning period was complete I was dependent again on my father.’

      ‘He chose your third husband?’

      ‘I managed to hold out for two whole months before I agreed to marry Lord Fortescue,’ she said with a grimace, ‘but even at the very beginning I knew I had no choice. Eventually I would end up as Lady Fortescue.’

      For such a private person Lady Fortescue was being remarkably open and honest about her past. Harry wondered if she found it easier talking to him, a relative stranger, than someone who was close to her. If he probed too much, got too close, he was sure it would be easy for her to push him away.

      ‘Lord Fortescue had three children from his first marriage, all grown adults now. They resented our marriage from the very start. My husband was fifty-eight when we married, in good health and very physically active.’

      ‘And then he died,’ Harry summarised.

      ‘And then he died. Of course his children tried to blame me. They threw me out of the house, have contested the settlements I am entitled to from the estate and even asked the local magistrate to investigate my husband’s death.’

      ‘So they’re the ones sending you these horrible packages?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ The words sounded so pitiful that Harry wondered just how much this young woman was having to deal with all on her own. ‘The packages only started arriving when I came out of mourning. I wonder if the Fortescue children would have waited so long.’

      ‘How many have there been?’

      ‘Four packages, and two letters.’

      ‘What was in the other packages?’

      Lady Fortescue shuddered, her fingers tightening their grip on his arm involuntarily.

      ‘One was full of excrement, from a horse, I think. One had a bloodied scarf and another an animal’s heart.’

      ‘And the content of the letters?’

      ‘Vile words, threats, profanities.’

      ‘But no clue as to the author?’

      She shook her head. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, Harry trying to take in everything he’d just been told.

      ‘Have you told anyone?’

      She turned to him, her large grey eyes wide, and shook her head. ‘Only you.’

      Harry felt his pulse quicken as she regarded him with an expression of reluctant hopefulness. Even though their acquaintance was only a brief one already he felt a desire building not to disappoint her. Swallowing, he realised his mouth was dry and his tongue felt heavy behind his lips. Lady Fortescue might not be an exotic beauty, but she possessed a quiet, mesmerising quality that made it difficult to walk away.

      ‘Lord Edgerton, what a delight,’ a middle-aged woman called from some distance away and Harry had to search his memory for her name and the circumstances of their acquaintance. ‘I’d heard rumours you and Lady Fortescue were engaged, and here you are walking out together. How lovely.’

      ‘Mrs Henderson,’ Harry said, taking the woman’s proffered hand. ‘It has been too long.’

      ‘You must tell me,’ Mrs Henderson said, flashing a smile at Lady Fortescue, ‘how you managed to catch such a fine man as Lord Edgerton. I have an unmarried daughter and the best offer we’ve had so far is from the local vicar.’

      From many women there would have been at least a hint of envy, but Mrs Henderson was a cheerful, unjudgemental soul who wouldn’t begrudge a young couple’s happiness.

      ‘I have to confess I have no idea how it happened,’ Lady Fortescue said softly.

      At least she wasn’t denying their engagement to anyone who would listen now. It would work out much better if they could pretend to be promised to one another for a month or two and then quietly break off the engagement. Harry was under no illusion that they would be able to avoid a scandal completely, but at least it would be at a moment of their own choosing.

      ‘I will leave you to continue your walk,’ Mrs Henderson said, ‘without the interruptions of a nosy old lady.’

      ‘It is always a pleasure, Mrs Henderson.’

      ‘The entirety of London society will know we have been out walking together by the end of the evening,’ Lady Fortescue said with a shake of her head, following Mrs Henderson’s departure with her solemn grey eyes. ‘I don’t understand why people are so interested in the lives of others.’

      ‘Boredom and human nature,’ Harry said with a shrug. Gently he guided Lady Fortescue over to a bench situated just in front of a small pond. ‘Let me help you.’

      ‘How? Why?’

      ‘You’re not very trusting.’ It was said in jest, but he felt his companion stiffen next to him. ‘Let me help you get to the bottom of who is sending you those packages, who is threatening you,’ he ploughed on quickly.

      ‘I’m sure you have much better things to be doing with your time.’

      ‘Give me six weeks. If I haven’t found out who is behind the threats by then, I will admit defeat.’

      Six weeks should be plenty of time to find the culprit. Harry had spent five years in the army and, although he had fought in his share of skirmishes, most of the time he had been deployed to gather information, to blend in with the locals and uncover any plots and plans. Those were skills you never lost once acquired and it had been a while since Harry had been given a challenge like this.

      ‘Why would you?’ Lady Fortescue asked, turning those searching grey eyes on Harry and making him feel as though she were staring past his face and into his mind.

      ‘No one should have to live in fear. No one should have to endure what you are enduring every single day.’

      There was more to it than that, but Harry couldn’t tell Lady Fortescue he’d seen the same desperate expression she’d had on her face when the package had arrived before. That in the weeks after his sister had been humiliated and shamed he’d seen that emptiness, that desperation. He had failed Lydia in her time of need and