“She’s escaped again, My Lord.” Miss Scott hung her head. “I’m so dreadfully sorry. I just don’t understand how it happened. We’d just begun our lessons. I turned my back for a moment to refill the ink and she was gone.”
Algernon threw down his pen and marched out from behind the desk, a thorny mix of anger and worry bubbling beneath his skin.
“It’s all right, Miss Scott.” He forced himself to stay calm. He knew the governess was not to blame. “It wasn’t your fault. You know this is one of Harriet’s favorite pastimes.”
Algernon’s daughter had always loved to hide. Even as a young child, she’d often have the house in a panic, as they threw open cupboards and peered under beds in an attempt to find the little girl.
Now, at ten years old, Harriet’s hiding escapades had grown into far more intricate escape attempts. It was a game to her, Algernon knew, sneaking out from behind her governess’s back, just as lessons were about to begin.
Usually, Harriet would be found hiding somewhere on the grounds; lying among the rose bushes or halfway up a tree. But the last time she’d escaped Miss Scott’s watchful eyes, his daughter had made it out of the manor gates and all the way to the garden square, five blocks away from the house. Algernon’s stomach tightened at the thought. He hated the idea of his daughter roaming alone through the city.
“Have the grounds been searched?” he asked tensely.
“As we speak, My Lord. Mr. Henderson and the other footmen are looking for her.”
“Good.” Algernon ushered Miss Scott from his office and made his way downstairs. He sent up a silent prayer that Harriet was safely ensconced on the manor grounds, not strutting unaccompanied around London. If anything were to happen to his daughter, Algernon Fletcher feared it would be the end of him.
* * *
Letitia walked and walked. She had no thought of where she was going, but there was something calming about keeping moving. Wherever she was headed, it was taking her further and further away from marriage to the Duke of Banfield.
And taking me further and further away from everything I know…
Each step was taking her further from the Mullins manor into a world she knew so little of. Each step would make it harder to find her way home again. At the thought, a fresh wave of fear cascaded over her, making her skin hot and her thoughts swim. Letitia tightened her fist around the strap of her pack.
I ought to go back. How can I survive out here? I don’t even know where I am.
She shook the thought away hurriedly.
It didn’t matter where she was, she told herself. She was not going home. As far as she was concerned, she had no home. She swallowed hard to push aside the sudden, dizzying swell of fear. And then she kept walking.
The streets had changed, she noticed. Outside her father’s manor, the houses had all been large and whitewashed. Neat townhouses and sprawling manors, all with manicured gardens and polished windows. Here, the city was grayer, dirtier. The houses were far closer together and the streets much narrower. Men and women wove along the road, dodging each other, dodging carriages, weaving past vendors who stood on street corners, hollering at passers-by.
Letitia felt as though her every sense was heightened. The city was so unfamiliar. What a strange notion it was that this place might have existed outside her father’s gates for so long without her having any thought of it.
She walked until her feet began to ache. Her boots, so rarely worn, were stiff and rubbed against her toes and heels. How long had she been walking? An hour? Perhaps two? She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that the way to the Mullins manor was now completely lost to her. Her old life was gone.
And then came a second realization.
No one is looking at me.
No one was paying her a single, fleeting moment of attention. In her stolen skirts and apron, she seemed to blend into the eternal gray of the city.
The thought was a buoying one. Letitia kept walking, despite her aching feet. It was the thought of being looked at, she realized, that had terrified her the most about attending the balls. She hated the thought of men peering over wine glasses, scrutinizing her on their quest for a wife. But now she felt pleasantly invisible; no chaperone at her side, no lady’s maid hovering at her shoulder. And with that realization, a little of her fear began to fade. Suddenly, the city did not seem quite so overwhelming.
She felt utterly directionless. And utterly free. Where she was to go from here, she had no thought, but just for now, it didn’t matter. Just for now, she would revel in the fact that she had escaped the Mullins manor. Revel in the fact that she had escaped a future as the Duke of Banfield’s wife.
She had a little money in her pocket. Surely it would be enough to buy her a bed for the night. She had no thought of where she might go to secure such a thing, but surely there were people she could ask. And, she thought, as the colorful chaos of a market appeared before her, the money in her pocket would also buy her a little food.
Letitia realized she was famished. She had not eaten since supper the previous night, an hour before her father had dropped the news of her betrothal at her feet.
She made her way into the market, her eyes darting as she took in the stands of colorful fruit and vegetables, the eggs, the meat, the spices. The smell of freshly-baked bread made her stomach growl. She followed the aroma towards the baker’s stand.
Laid out in front of her were loaves of every size and color, along with cakes dotted with raisins and biscuits sprinkled with sugar. Letitia’s mouth watered at the sight of them.
She reached into her pocket and clasped a hand around her coin pouch.
How much is one expected to pay for a bread roll?
Letitia had never bought anything in her entire life. She dug a hand into the coin pouch. She knew there was five pounds inside. Enough for a bread roll, surely.
“How much?” she asked the baker shyly, pointing to the roll.
“Ha’penny,” he said. “Three for a penny.”
Letitia smiled to herself. “Just one please.” She handed over the money and carried her roll back into the crowd of the market.
A small victory. She bit into the bread, the warmth of it exploding deliciously in her mouth. She wished she had bought three. But such a thing had felt excessive when she had no thought of how she would manage to get by in this strange new life. Surely it would be wise to save every penny.
At the edge of the courtyard, Letitia saw a young girl standing by the toy-maker’s stall. Though she looked no more than seven or eight, she appeared to be alone. The girl was well-dressed in a green woolen dress with silver buttons down her back. Letitia remembered dressing in a similar way back when she had been a child.
A nobleman’s daughter?
What would such a child be doing here alone?
Letitia paused, watching the girl curiously. Despite the cold, she wore no cloak. No bonnet or mittens. Her blonde hair danced around her cheeks in the wind. Had she simply become separated from her nurse? Letitia wondered. Surely if that was the case, she would not have been permitted to leave the house without adequate clothing.
And then, in the corner of her vision, she caught sight of two men. They were dressed in dark clothes, their eyes darting as they moved through the crowd. Slowly, silently, they approached the girl.
The look on the men’s faces, Letitia had seen that before. Seen it on the men who had held up her parents’ carriage. Seen it on the man who had fired the pistol into their coachman’s shoulder.
She heard herself cry out. “Help! Someone! She’s in trouble!”
At the sound of her shouts, the girl looked up. She caught sight of the men approaching her and let out a screech of her own. The two men shoved their way through the crowd and began to run, disappearing into the chaos of the market.
The girl stared after them as they disappeared, her blue eyes wide and her chin trembling. She burst into tears.
Letitia hurriedly knelt beside her. “It’s a
ll right,” she said gently. “They’re gone now.”
“They were going to hurt me!” The girl threw herself impulsively at Letitia, wrapping her thin arms around her neck. Taken aback for a moment, Letitia held the girl as she cried, feeling her small body tremble with her tears.
Finally, the girl stepped back and wiped her eyes. She was slightly older than she had first thought, Letitia realized. Nine or ten, perhaps. Still, far too young to be charging around the market on her own.
“Are you here alone?” she asked gently.
The girl looked at her feet. After a moment, she nodded. “I ran away,” she admitted. “I was just playing a game. I just wanted an adventure. But I…” She faded out, her chin trembling as a second wave of tears threatened. “I didn’t know those men were going to be here.” She shivered violently as a cold wind tunneled through the market. Two oranges rolled from the grocer’s stand and trundled across the cobbles.
Letitia unwound the shawl from her neck and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders. She smiled. “Running away can be frightening.”
The girl nodded.
Letitia took the girl’s hands and looked into her blue eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Harriet.” Her voice was small. “Harriet Fletcher.”
Letitia smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harriet. I’m—” She hesitated.
No, I’m not Letitia Caddy. Not any longer.
“I’m Molly,” she said, blurting out the first name that came to mind.
A small smile turned the corner of Harriet’s lips.
“Shall I see you home?” asked Letitia.
The girl nodded.
“Can you show me the way?”
Harriet nodded again. Letitia smiled wryly to herself. At least one of them knew their way around this city.
* * *
“I’m sorry, My Lord,” said Algernon’s footman, Henderson. “The men and I have searched the entire grounds. There’s no sign of Miss Fletcher here.”
Algernon nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he could feel approaching. “She must have slipped out the gates again.” He looked back at Henderson. “Tell the groom to prepare the coach. I need to go and search for her.”
The words left a knot of worry inside him. He had no thought of where to even being looking. He shivered, turning up the collar of his coat against the wind. How had Harriet been dressed? Was she even wearing a coat? Bonnet? Mittens? He knew it was unlikely if she had slipped out of the sitting room from beneath Miss Scott’s nose.
The knot in his stomach tightened.
Henderson nodded. “Of course, My Lord. We’ll have the coach ready at once.” He hurried off towards the stables.
Algernon began to pace across the terrace, rubbing his hands together with a mixture of anxiety and cold. And then, in the corner of his vision, he saw movement by the manor gates.
Harriet, hand in hand with a young woman.
Algernon let out his breath and raced down the path. He scooped his daughter into his arms, lifting her from the ground and squeezing her tightly.
“Where have you been?” he gushed. “You terrified me!”
His daughter burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Papa.” Her arms tightened around his neck, her long legs curling around his waist.
Algernon closed his eyes against her hair, inhaling the soapy scent of her. Half of him longed to give his daughter the scolding of a lifetime. The other half never wanted to let her go.
He set her down. A pale blue shawl was knotted around her neck. Not hers, Algernon thought distantly. “We will talk about this later,” he said, with as much sharpness as he could muster. He pressed a hand to the top of his daughter’s head. “You must make your apologies to Miss Scott, Harriet. She was very worried for you. We all were.”
Harriet hung her head. “Yes, Papa.” She trotted inside obediently.
Algernon looked up. The young woman who had brought Harriet home was hovering shyly several feet away. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her eyes on her feet. A strand of golden hair peeked out from beneath her cloth cap and tickled her cheek.
Algernon took a step towards her. She looked up at his movement, their eyes meeting. Algernon felt something shift inside him. A faint fluttering sensation in his chest. It was a strange feeling only distantly remembered.
He realized he was staring. This young woman, with her threadbare gray skirts and discolored cap, was dazzlingly beautiful.
“I…” Algernon found himself strangely tongue-tied. “Thank you,” he managed. “Thank you so much.”
The young woman gave him a small smile. “Of course, My Lord.” She gave a short nod of her head and turned to look back at the gate.
“What’s your name?” Algernon said hurriedly, before she could slip out of the manor grounds.
She paused, and he regretted asking.
Is such a thing too forward? I can’t be sure…
The sight of her was making him strangely incapable of coherent thought.
“Molly,” she said after a moment. “Molly Cooper.”
Algernon smiled. “I’m indebted to you, Miss Cooper.” He brought her pale hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it.
Her lips parted slightly, her blue eyes shining.
“I ought to leave you, My Lord,” she said after a moment. “Let you get back to your daughter.”
“No,” Algernon blurted. “Don’t leave.”
Miss Cooper looked back at him with surprise in her eyes.
Algernon swallowed hard.
“Don’t leave?” What in God’s name am I doing?
He only knew he did not want to let this beautiful young woman disappear. No, it was more than that. He could not let her disappear.
“Where did you find her?” he asked. “Harriet?”
“At the market, My Lord.”
Algernon let out his breath. “Which market?”
Miss Cooper hesitated. “I…”
“She’s something of an escape artist, I’m afraid,” Algernon sighed. “Last time, she found her way to the garden square.” Yes, he thought, there would be a scolding and a half for Harriet tonight.
Although, can I truly be angry when she had brought this lovely creature to my door?
“You work close to the market then?” Algernon asked, painfully aware of how stilted and foolish his words sounded.
Miss Cooper laced her narrow fingers together. “Actually, I’m… between positions.”
“Between positions? And what kind of work do you do?”
She hesitated.
“Forgive me,” Algernon said hurriedly. “Here am I asking you all these questions, and you’ve no thought of who I am.” He gave a slight bow of the head. “Algernon Fletcher, Marquess of Radcliffe.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Long-suffering father of Harriet.”
Miss Cooper smiled. “I’m a kitchen hand, My Lord,” she said finally. “Or I can work about the house. Whatever needs doing, you might say.” She flashed him a short white smile. There was that fluttering again, dancing around inside him, waking a part of him that had been dormant for years. The feeling was subtle, but undeniable.
Algernon found himself returning her smile. “I’m in need of a kitchen hand,” he heard himself say. “Perhaps you might oblige me?”
Chapter 4
A kitchen hand?
What had she been thinking? Letitia had barely set foot in a kitchen in her life!
If she were honest with herself, she hadn’t been thinking at all. The moment her eyes had fallen on Lord Radcliffe, all intelligible thoughts had tumbled out of her head. There had been something about him, something about his tall stature, his broad shoulders, the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. Standing so close to him, Letitia had felt as though he had a hold on her. Her feet had felt planted to the floor, rendering her unable to move. Her thoughts had tangled, reducing her to ridiculous comments along the lines of:
“I’m a kitchen hand.”
Letitia could not remember anyone ever having such an effect on her.
When the Marquess had asked about her work, she had just opened her mouth and blurted out whatever had come to her first. She certainly had not been expecting him to offer her a position.
But Letitia knew she was in no place to turn down his offer. As of this morning, she was homeless, with no way of supporting herself.
At least she had been, until five minutes earlier.
Devilish Games of a Virtuous Lady: A Steamy Regency Romance Page 3