A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke

by Hazel Linwood

  Christopher felt sick, indeed. He wanted to throw up with dread but forced himself to remain calm.

  “We must go home at once,” Betsy said. “Faith, my dear Rowena.” Betsy’s eyes began to water.

  “She is right. We must speak to the Earl at once and attempt to find her. Aunt Helene, will you be able to remain here by yourself or–”

  The told woman waved him off. “Henry, I can take care of myself. Besides, I have a house full of loyal servants who are here to assist me. I am quite alright. You go and find your brother’s lady.”

  With that, the three departed the house and boarded the carriage once more.

  “You have a nerve to show your face here,” Lord Hazelshire hollered. He took several big steps toward Christopher and glared at him. “I cannot believe you would dare set foot into this house after what you–”

  They had been at the Earl’s home for less than ten minutes, just enough time for Betsy to recount the events of the past few weeks, and to establish that Rowena had never returned to her father’s home. The Earl had remained enraged the entire time, glaring at Christopher with nothing but disdain. The revelation that they had planned to depart for Gretna Green until Betsy’s call for help arrived had only furthered his anger.

  “Now, now, Lord Hazelshire, let us not be hasty,” Uncle Nestor stepped in. “My nephews have taken a great risk in bringing Miss Carmichael home safe, that ought to allow for some goodwill toward them, no matter what else has transpired.”

  The Earl shook his head and glanced at his wife and daughter, both of whom were huddled around Betsy. And she, in a halting fashion, convinced them of the truth of her time at Lord Portsmouth’s manor.

  “I still do not even understand why it was necessary to recover her. Isaac has been very reassuring in his account of it all and–”

  “Augustus,” Lady Hazelshire’s voice sounded out, much louder than Christopher had ever heard. “You ought to leave the two young men alone and be grateful they have done what the Duke of Thornmouth did not. Clearly, Isaac Travers is not the man we thought him to be.”

  The Earl shook his head in disbelieve.

  “There must be a reason he acted in the manner he did. I will question him thoroughly once he returns.”

  Thornmouth, Christopher had been informed, had taken off with Rowena’s brother Charles to search for the missing young woman. In fact, the Earl and been in the process of departing himself, aided by his uncle, to alert the constables. Their appearance, and Betsy’s revelations, had delayed the departure.

  Now Christopher watched as the man walked over to the women, two of his three roses and his cherished ward. He caught the way Lady Catherine glanced at Henry, gratitude and love in her eyes. He returned the gaze in equal measure.

  Uncle Nestor, meanwhile, breathed heavily, the stress of the last few hours apparent on his face.

  “Christopher, I failed you, I really did. I am ever so sorry. I ought not to have left her alone on the porch. I ought to–” Christopher placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Please, do not fret. Whatever happened, happened. What is important now is that we find her.”

  His uncle nodded and looked toward the Burton family who stood congregated to one side with Betsy. The expression on Lady Hazelshire’s face was one of thunder and she continuously rubbed Betsy’s arm.

  Christopher cautiously made his way toward them, followed by his uncle and Henry. Then, to his utter surprise, Lady Hazelshire did something complete unexpected and unheard of: she tore herself free of her family and rushed toward him, clasping his hand.

  “Your Grace, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for Betsy. And you, Mr. Newmont. To think of what could have happened to her.” She frowned then. “What I do not understand is why Rowena did not confide in me about her discoveries. And Margaret. I shall have to have words with Margaret once she is out of her confinement and recovered. To know of such things and keep them from me.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “You do not put much value in gossip, Mama.” Lady Catherine said. Then, gently, she added, “And we all know how much you respect the values of our society.”

  The comment, a thinly veiled accusation of Lady Hazelshire’s obvious desire to impress those in her circle, caused the woman’s face to pale. Christopher could not help but feel badly for her. He had seen his mother struggle with the balance between their position in society and what she felt in her heart was right.

  “But you all know how much I care for Betsy.” She clasped the young woman’s arm. “And our dear Rowena. Our dear Rowena, to put herself in danger to save her and to take it all upon herself…we must find her.” Tears sprang into her eyes. “My darling daughter.”

  “Yes, indeed. Where have your son and the Duke gone to search for her?”

  The Earl shrugged. “They have gone to search the streets near your uncle’s home on horseback, to question whomever they can.” He appeared utterly helpless, shaking his head.

  Christopher nodded, however, his attention was taken up by something else altogether. For off in the corner, he’d noticed Mrs. Wooster, the housekeeper. She was standing there with an anxious expression on her face, as though she had something, she wanted to say but did not dare.

  “It may be prudent to question the servants,” he suggested. “I find often there is much to be learned. As we require them to be all but invisible, they do hear all.”

  Lord Hazelshire gave a curt nod. “You are right, indeed. Perhaps it is prudent that I leave the questioning of my servants to you,” he looked from Henry to Christopher. “They may be more willing to divulge information to someone who is not in charge of their livelihood.”

  “A very good idea, My Lord,” Uncle Nestor said. “In the meantime, you and I shall go and alert the constables as planned. Christopher, Henry, we will reconvene here at the top of the hour. Perhaps His Grace and the Earl’s son will have returned by then as well.”

  The Earl bade his wife and daughter, as well as Betsy farewell and the three women departed toward the drawing room. Then he and Uncle Nestor made their way outside to the waiting carriage, leaving the brothers alone.

  “I suspect I know who you’d like to question first,” Henry said, having noticed the older woman’s worried visage himself.

  They did not need to approach her, however. For the moment the door closed behind the Earl, Mrs. Wooster came charging out.

  “Your Grace, I must speak to you at once,” she said breathlessly. “About the Duke of Thornmouth. As concerned as he made himself out to be, searching for Lady Rowena and all, I think it was him.”

  Christopher’s eyes widened. “Him? Him what?”

  “Him who’s behind the disappearance of our dear Lady Rowena.”

  The words hit Christopher hard. Why had he not considered it? Surely a man like Thornmouth would not take kindly to Rowena rejecting him, to allow his entire dastardly character to be exposed. If he was indeed behind it, Christopher would bring him down.

  He shook his head, cleaning his mind. Then he motioned for the housekeeper to follow him into the dining room.

  He forced himself to focus on what mattered most right now, and it wasn’t revenge.

  If Thornmouth was behind the disappearance, he would sort him out later. But for now, there was only one focus. Rowena.

  Chapter 30

  A jib-door! Rowena had not thought of the possibility of there being such a door in the room. They were fashionable for sure, but not generally found in servant quarters such as these.

  She made a note of where the door was located and then focused on the figure that stood in the room. The light behind her illuminated the older woman. She held a large set of keys in her hand, which reminded her of Mrs. Wooster, who wore just such a bundle around her waist. Was she a housekeeper?

  “Please I–”

  “Now, now, I won’t have any of that pleading. You are only lucky all the servants have risen and are attending to their tasks. Otherwise the whol
e house would have been woken by your racket.” She turned toward the door and nodded for someone to enter.

  “Here’s some fresh-baked bread, butter and jam. I suspect you have not eaten since supper. You will eat, then knock to let Sabrine know you are finished. She will collect the dishes.”

  Another, younger, woman entered with a tray. She avoided Rowena’s eyes and walked swiftly to the rickety table in the corner. The older woman gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

  “Ma’am, please. Where am I? I–”

  She swung around. “I have told you already, no pleading. Nobody will do you any harm. You are here for safekeeping, nothing more. Now, when you’ve finished eating, I’ll have Sabrine bring in a pitcher, a bowl, and a silver of lye soap so you can clean up.” She looked around the room and shook her head. “This is for your own good, Lady Rowena.” With that, the woman left. At the door, she turned and called out to the young maid, “Sabrine? What is taking so long?”

  “Yes, Your G–”

  “Sabrine!” the old lady hissed, silencing the girl who looked down at the ground and then rushed outside. For a moment, Rowena could see the hallway outside.

  There was a window on the opposite end and through it, she could spot daylight. It was still tinged with the reminder of the night which had evidently just passed, but it was dawn. That she was certain of. She’d spent the entire night here. Before she could ask further questions, the door shut, and a key turned.

  Who was this woman? The young girl had almost referred to her as Your Grace, hadn’t she? But that couldn’t be. Clearly, she was a housekeeper.

  Rowena paced the room, unsure what to do next. The scent of the soup wavered through the room, tickling her nose. Her stomach began to grumble. Since she’d run away from home before dinner, all she’d eaten was a small supper the Countess of Totham had prepared for her. While it was fine food, she’d not felt like eating much.

  No wonder my stomach is rumbling.

  She went over to the small table and sat, picking up the soft, sweet-smelling bread. After the first bite, she found herself utterly relishing it, as she finished the entire serving. She used the rest of the bread to mop up the butter and jelly from their small dishes, something her mother would have frowned upon.

  A small handkerchief was folded on the tray and she was about to pick it up when she realized something had been wrapped inside it. Her heart beat faster as she unwrapped it.

  Perhaps a key to open the door? A note letting me know where I am?

  She unrolled the handkerchief and found herself disappointed. It was not a key nor any hint as to her whereabouts. Inside the cloth were several pieces of candied fruit. She sighed and placed it in her mouth. The sweetness of the candy did cheer her for a moment, and she thanked whoever had placed it there.

  Having finished her meal, she returned to the location of the jib-door. Running her fingers carefully along the wall, she soon felt its hinges under her fingertips. She found the door handle and pulled. Nothing. She pulled harder, yanking with all her might. When that failed, she threw herself against the door with her shoulder. It seemed to give only slightly for just a moment. Alas–

  “My Lady, you must stop,” a young girl’s voice said from the other side.

  “Let me out!” Rowena demanded.

  “I cannot. You must know that I cannot. Are you finished with your meal?”

  Rowena frowned. It was not the voice of the older woman. No, this voice was young. The maid, perhaps?

  “I have.”

  There was a short silence, then footsteps departed. A moment later, two sets of footsteps returned, and the door was unlocked. When it swung inwards, Rowena stepped back and found herself face to face with the young woman who’d brought her food. Behind her was a tall, bulky man who held the keychain previously worn by the housekeeper in his thick hand.

  The young woman stepped inside and approached the small table.

  “You must be Sabrine.”

  The girl nodded as Rowena stepped closer to her.

  “Did you like the candied fruit? I thought you’d like them,” the girl spoke quietly.

  “I did. Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.” Rowena glanced at the bulky man. He stood in the doorframe, glaring at them.

  “Can you tell me where I am?” The girl blinked as she picked up the tray. Regret was apparent on her face as she shook her head. She pushed past Rowena and exited the door.

  To her surprise, the girl did not close the door but merely disappeared for a few moments, giving Rowena a chance to peek outside.

  The hallways were lit with candles—tallow, not beeswax, furthering her belief that she was in the servant’s wing of whatever house she was in. Before she could ascertain anything further, the girl, Sabrine, returned.

  She had a pitcher of water with her, along with a wash ball and basin, just as the older woman had promised.

  “Please, I am ever so scared. Tell me where I am,” Rowena pleaded.

  The young girl’s face flinched as she put down the pitcher.

  “It’s not warm, I’m sorry to say. But you will soon find the comforts you are used to again. Including a much nicer bed, I promise you. This is only temporary.” She placed two more tallow candles on the table. “For when yours goes out.”

  “Sabrine!” the man outside the door hollered at her. Quickly the girl made her way out of the room, giving Rowena one last, sad glance as the door shut behind her.

  Rowena was laying on the small bed, her eyes toward the ceiling. She didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d used the wash ball to clean herself. With nothing to do, she’d simply laid down on the bed. There was no way she could escape, no way she could figure out where she was.

  She’d already searched the armoire and the small table for any evidence, anything that might point her to where she was being kept. If it was truly her father that was the one keeping her here.

  Suddenly, a tapping sound at the door roused her attention.

  “My Lady–” a voice came through the door, hardly above a whisper.

  She rolled out of bed and rushed to the door, pressing her head against it.

  “I am here. Sabrine?”

  “It is I, My Lady. I cannot remain long.”

  Her heart beat faster at this sudden ray of hope.

  “Can you let me out? I promise I won’t tell anyone it was you.”

  There was a moment of silence and then the girl sighed.

  “I cannot. Only three of us know you are here, and Thomas would never defy the Duchess’s orders. They’d know it was me.”

  The Duchess. Was she talking about the older woman from earlier? The one she had thought of as the housekeeper?

  “Duchess? Who is the Duchess? The woman from earlier today?”

  “Aye, it is she.”

  Rowena considered this and tried to think of which elderly Dukes her father was friendly with, and who might have offered their home for her keeping.

  “Where am I, Sabrine?”

  “The Duchess’s old chamber. Once upon a time, this was her room, when she was a young woman, when her husband was still alive. Now it’s servant quarters,” the girl replied. Rowena wasn’t sure if she was being evasive on purpose or if she had not understood what she meant. At least it explained the existence of a jib door.

  “But whose house is this? Who is your master? Why am I here?”

  The girl sighed. Even though Rowena could not see her, she knew the young girl was wrestling with what to do.

  “Was it my Father who brought me here? The Earl of Hazelshire?”

  This elicited an immediate reply.

  “Heaven forefend, My Lady. I cannot tell you. I can only say you are here to be kept safe. That is all I know. Please, if you can only be patient and just stay quiet, this will all be over really soon. In the meantime, I’ll make sure you have enough candles and–”

  “No, please. You don’t understand. I have to get out. I am to be married and my friend…” s
he thought of Betsy and wondered if she was safe, if Christopher had succeeded in rescuing her. “My friend is returning from a bad situation at her employers today. She’s been in so much danger and I must ensure she is safe and given shelter by my parents. She’s being returned from Bedfordshire this morning.”

  “From Bedfordshire?” There was something in the girl’s voice, alarm perhaps. Fright.