A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke

by Hazel Linwood

  “Yes, she was working for the Viscount Portsmouth and–”

  “Ohh, that louse,” the girls voice rose to be much louder than Rowena knew otherwise.

  “You know him, then?”

  “I do. I worked for him. Terrible cad he is. I fell for his charms, silly girl that I am.” The regret in her voice was evident. “Then he made me leave when…” she paused and then cleared her throat. “It does not matter. He is terrible person. If you friend worked for him, then I hope she made a quick escape.”

  “She is at present, or so I believe. I must be let out of here to make sure she is safe.”

  There was a silence between the two before Rowena picked the conservations up again, in the same hushed tones.

  “Sabrine, can you really not help me? Can you not–”

  The girl sighed. “I’ve come to comfort you, and to reassure you. But that is all I can do. I cannot let you out. I…I owe the Duchess so much. She took me in when nobody else would have. She and her son. I owe them. I must remain loyal. But fear not. You will be treated well. I promise you that.”

  Rowena scratched her chin and sighed.

  What does she mean, she owes them? Nobody else would help her?

  Then it came to her. The rumors she heard the on dit, about a maid of Lord Portsmouth’s who was with child. Could this be her?

  Gently, Rowena spoke once more. “I heard there was a maid that worked for Lord Portsmouth who found herself in an awkward position not too long ago.”

  A sob came from the other side of the door. It was all the answer she needed.

  “I thought he cared for me, that he would help me raise our child and…he was a cad. And I a fool. I made a cake out of myself and nearly mucked up my life if not for the Duchess and His Grace. The Duchess, foremost. They helped me and the child–” Once again, she stopped speaking, but what she’d said was enough.

  His Grace. Her employer was a Duke, with a living mother, who was connected to Lord Portsmouth enough to know when he was in a bad situation. Someone who would know of a maid in such a condition. Could it be? It had to be. Her first suspicion had been right. It hadn’t been her father who locked her in here.

  “This is the Duke of Thornmouth’s home is it not? And the woman? She is his Mother? The Dowager Duchess of Thornmouth? I am right, am I not?”

  The girl cried quietly. Then, after a short while, she whispered. “Yes, indeed. This is Easton House. But please, do not tell them I told you I–”

  “You must let me out. Please. You do not know what it will mean for me to remain here. I must return home. If I do not, and if I do not support Betsy, the Duke will give testimony against her. He was meant to help her escape Portsmouth, and he did not. In fact, he sent her right back there. He will never admit this to my Father, however. And my parents might not believe Betsy over a Duke. Not unless I am there to support her–”

  “Surely they will believe her. Surely there will be somebody else who can vouch for her.”

  Christopher. Rowena thought of him and Henry. But then, would her parents take their word over that of their future son-in-law? A man whom they admired, revered even? There was Margaret, but she had gone into her confinement the previous week and was struggling greatly with the pregnancy. She could not do anything in her current state. The physicians were shielding her from stress with great care.

  “I must support her. It must be me. There is nobody else,” she hesitated. “If you let me go, I will ensure that you are taken care of. Please, I promise you. Surely you know who my Father is. He will make sure you are well rewarded for helping his daughter.”

  She closed her eyes, wishing with all her might that the girl would relent, that she would believe her.

  Then, a moment later, she heard a key being placed in the lock. A weight fell off her chest at the sound of the key turning in the lock. When the door swung open inwards, she looked at the girl in front of her.

  Faith, she cannot be more than nine-and-ten years old. Just a little older than Catherine.

  Her heart went out to the girl. She wrapped her arms around her in elation.

  “Thank you, thank you. You have saved me and I–”

  “There is no time for any of this. Come, quickly. You must go before–”

  “Sabrine!” A voice hollered from across the hallway. They both turned in unison and to her shock, she saw the burly man from earlier, Thomas, standing there. His face was a mask of fury and before she had time to take in any of his features, he broke into a run.

  “Down the stairs, My Lady and to the right,” Sabrine said as Rowena took off running.

  She made it down the first set of stairs to a landing, disoriented by the strange surroundings. The man rushed down the steps behind her and was closing in on her quickly.

  She made another turn and found herself on yet another landing. The stairs split here.

  Right or left? She had already forgotten Sabrine’s words in her panic and haste. There appeared to be a staircase at the end of either of the hallways, but the one on the left was closer. She chose that one.

  She ran, lifting up her dress as she went.

  “Halt! Halt at once!” the man called after her.

  To her shock, a door opened at the end of the hall, just before the staircase and the older woman stepped out.

  “You silly girl. There is nowhere to go and nobody wishes to harm you.”

  She was in Rowena’s way and there was no passing her. Panicked, she stopped and tried to turn around. Alas, Thomas was right behind her.

  Strong arms wrapped around her and she found herself lifted.

  “Please, just let me go. I just want to go home!”

  While the man held on to her, the old woman came forward and looked at her, a gentle smile on her face.

  “My dear, don’t you know? This is your home now.”

  Rowena felt her head spin. The words, as comforting as the woman might have meant them to be, sounded like a threat.

  Chapter 31

  Christopher motioned for the housekeeper to follow him and Henry into the adjacent parlor. The woman nodded resolutely and followed behind them. The very moment the small group was alone, the words spilled out of her.

  “Your Grace, I did not wish to say anything to His Lordship, however I…His Lordship is ever so enthralled by the Lady Rowena, and–” she was holding a handkerchief in her hands and was twisting it rapidly.

  “Mrs. Wooster, please. Do not fret. If you have any information for us that will help us recover Rowena, I know the Earl will be ever so grateful.”

  She nodded, “I was not certain that he would listen to what I had to say. Perhaps he would now, after poor Betsy’s ordeal, however. I thought it wiser to come to you. Seeing how you care for Lady Rowena ever so much.”

  “What is it that leads you to suspect the Duke of Thornmouth?” Henry asked, gently prompting the woman.

  “Well, some of us overheard the conversation between Lady Rowena and the Duke, and of course, the aftermath could not be missed. There was quite a commotion when His Lordship and Her Ladyship tried to confront Lady Rowena and they found her gone. His Grace acted ever so distraught at Lady Rowena’s words and vows not to wed him,” she shook her head. “I do believe he has an awful infatuation with her. He declared he still will wed her, if only Lord Hazelshire could find her.”

  “I imagine you are right. A man besotted, and powerful at that, will go to any length to get what he wants,” Henry said. “However, what makes you think His Grace was behind Lady Rowena’s disappearance?”

  She licked her lips. “After the discovery, the Earl set of to your uncle’s home to see if she was there. Of course, your uncle denied any involvement. Quite enraged his Lordship was when he later discovered he’d been lied to, but that is beside the point. In any case, while his Lordship was gone, His Grace, the Duke of Thornmouth, remained here, to comfort Lady Hazelshire. Except,” she looked around as thought wanting to make sure nobody heard her, “for a while, he disa
ppeared. Claimed to have a need to take the air. However, I saw him go toward the back, where he’d argued with Lady Rowena, not out in the front as is customary. So, I grew curious.”

  Christopher stepped from one foot to the other, growing impatient. “You followed him. Please continue.”

  She nodded, “Follow him, I did. He went out the back and to where his coachman was waiting. The two had a hurried conversation. I couldn’t hear much of it, but I heard them mention your uncle’s address. Then Thornmouth went back inside. I stayed put to see what the coachman was going to do.” She shook her head. “Lord Hazelshire returned without Lady Rowena, His Grace stepped out once more and then the coachman took off at a rather alarming speed. He did not return for quite some hours, and when he did, I saw him give the Duke a nod of the head. It appeared all rather suspicious.”

  Christopher scratched his head. It did indeed. Why would the coachman have departed in such haste? Why would the Duke have had to converse with the man? Surely, if he was planning to make arrangements for a late departure, he would have just sent word through a footman or the butler. No need to converse with the coachman directly. And under false pretenses, too.

  No, I am certain that the coachman and Thornmouth conspired to arrange the disappearance of Rowena.

  “Where would he have taken her, if indeed it was the coachman?” Christopher wondered out loud. “Surely not to his house.”

  “Of course, he would have,” Henry argued. “He can’t very well have her taken to someone else’s house to stash her. No matter how good a friend you are, you would not just take a sudden delivery of a young, kidnapped woman and hide her. Especially not on the word of a coachman.”

  “Unless His Grace planned for such a possibility,” Mrs. Wooster suggested, her eyes narrowed.

  “I would not put it past him.” Christopher tilted his head from side to side as he considered the options.

  “No, Topher. With all due respect. There is no way he could have known Rowena would react as she did to his not returning Betsy. He could not have known you planned to run away to Gre–” he stopped himself, realizing too late that Mrs. Wooster was still in the room.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Gretna Green?” She glowered at Christopher. “You would have taken our Lady Rowena to Gretna Green? My, our dear lady surely has changed.” Suddenly her face lightened, and a small smile appeared. She looked up at Christopher. “Your brother is right. It was a rather sudden decision of hers to run away as she did, and quite unlike her. It would have been very hard to arrange in advance. I did not think of that.”

  “So, at his house then?” Christopher said. “That is where she must be, where he’s taken her. I must find out where his house his, for I do not know my way around the–”

  Mrs. Wooster cleared her throat and raised a finger. “It is Easton House. It is in Westminster, not far from here. On Thirleby Road. You can see the cathedral from there.”

  Christopher nodded, “Very well. I shall find it.”

  Henry clasped his arm in alarm. “You cannot propose to go there, not now. Not without letting anyone know or making arrangements.”

  “Of course,” Christopher protested. “I cannot lose a moment’s time. I do not know her condition, and I fear to think of how she is being treated.”

  “Let us not act in haste, Topher. At least wait until the Earl and Uncle Nestor return. Perhaps we can confront Thornmouth and–”

  “No,” Christopher exclaimed. “We cannot wait and we most certainly cannot speak confront the Duke. He will deny all and in the meantime have Rowena moved elsewhere. I am going now.”

  “I shall come with you,” Henry declared.

  Christopher shook his head. “No, I will go on my own. You are right, the Earl must be alerted, and it is better for you to remain here and speak to him once he returns. Then follow me to the Duke’s. In any case, we know he is out with Charles, pretended to search for the woman he holds captive. He will not be at his house.”

  “Christopher, surely Mrs. Wooster can–”

  Christopher noticed how the woman’s expression changed at his brother’s suggestion. While she appeared comfortable enough to spread her mind in their presence, it was quite another matter to bring her concerns, and the events that were currently unraveling, to her employers.

  He placed his hand on Henry’s arm. “I shall go. Do not fret. Alert Lady Hazelshire and then the Earl. Follow me when you can. There is no need to worry.”

  He did not allow his brother the chance to protest further as he turned on his heels and rushed toward his carriage.

  He raced toward the carriage, catching Mr. Thorpe, the coachman, quite by surprise. The man had been sitting on the curb beside the carriage, enjoying a moment in the rays of the warming sun when Christopher approached.

  “Thorpe! We must go at once.”

  The man jumped up and straightened his jacket. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “Easton House, Westminster. We must hurry, Lady Rowena’s life depends upon it.”

  Thorpe frowned for one moment and then nodded. “The home of the Duke of Thornmouth?”

  “You know it then?”

  “I do. Her Grace, the late Duchess of Westmond, used to play whist with the Duchess of Thornmouth. This was some years ago, but I still remember the way. ‘Tis not far, Your Grace.”

  Christopher climbed into the back and a moment later felt the horses begin to gallop down the cobbled road. The sudden mention of his mother had thrown him. To think his mother had been a friend to the mother of his sworn enemy was rather peculiar, and another layer to this ever more intricate quandary he found himself in.

  He looked out of the window and saw the houses of Mayfair flash past as the carriage raced toward its destination.

  Westminster Cathedral came into view and beyond that lay the house of Thornmouth.

  Rowena, please stay strong. I will be there in a moment. I will stay true to my word and keep you safe.

  Within a few minutes, the carriage came to a stop and Christopher jumped out. The townhouse that belonged to Thornmouth loomed large before him. It was larger still than the house of Lord Hazelshire, almost as big as Havisham House, though not quite. He noted the bricked-up windows on the outside façade.

  It is just like Thornmouth to brick up the windows so he can save a few precious guineas as his servants sit in darkness.

  He knocked on the front door and a moment later, the butler appeared before them. He was a tall, older-looking man who glowered at him. It occurred to Christopher that up until this moment, he’d not thought of what to say or do once he’d arrived.

  I wish I’d taken Henry along with me after all, he always knows what to say.

  He decided to avoid announcing himself for he was certain his name alone made him persona non-grata at Easton House. Then it dawned on him. Thorpe had mentioned the Duchess, Thornmouth’s mother. He was not certain if the woman was still alive, but if she was, it might be his way in.

  “I am a friend of Lord Portsmouth, here to deliver a message for Her Grace. It is rather urgent.”

  “Her Grace is not available at present. If you would like to leave your calling card Lord…” he tilted his head to one side and looked him up and down.

  “Totham. Lord Totham. And I am all out of calling cards, I’m afraid.”

  “In that case, Lord Totham, I apologize, but Her Grace is unavailable. You may consider calling again at a later time. With a calling card.” The man went to shut the door when another thought came to Christopher.

  “It is in regards to the young lady that is currently…visiting. Lord Portsmouth sent me with a message regarding a change in circumstance.”

  This caught the butler’s attention, for he frowned and stopped his attempt at closing the door.

  “Lord Portsmouth sent you?”

  Christopher nodded eagerly. “He has.” Then he added, “He sent a messenger alerting me to the urgency of the issue.”

  Gadzooks. I ought not have mentione
d a messenger.

  Indeed, the butler expression changed once more, growing suspicious. He looked past Christopher and his eyes settled on the carriage which sat across the street. He narrowed his eyes.

  “You are Nestor Hicks, Lord Totham, you said?

  Christopher swallowed hard. “Indeed. Now, Her Grace?”

  “I am familiar with Lady Totham. She used to play whist with Her Grace. And you are not her husband. I do not know who you are, but I will not have some blunderbuss disturb Her Grace.” With that, he turned back and went to push the door shut.

  Desperate, Christopher lunged forward and pushed against the door.