For the sake of love (The St Bernadette Files Book 2)

by Regina Darcy

  “Then I shall go at once,” Miss Worthington replied, getting to her feet and brushing down her skirts. “Perhaps we should meet tomorrow, Lord Cunningham, where I might be able to hand you the papers? To meet again here, so soon, might look a little suspicious.”

  “Tomorrow it is,” David replied, thinking that whilst this was a good idea, he would struggle not to know of their success.

  “At the Bell and Whistle, coaching inn, during the afternoon? Perhaps 2pm? It is a place where people came and go and no one pays any attention or heed to what people are doing.”

  “Certainly,” Miss Worthington replied, giving him a quick smile before exiting the room.

  TEN

  Charity clenched her hands in her skirts, hardly daring to breathe as she walked back to the very room she had just come from, knowing that her broom would still be somewhere in the vicinity. She did not look to her left or right but instead focused on taking measured steps, knowing that she would have to look quite ordinary. If she were to appear to be hurrying, or to be looking over her shoulder, then that would draw suspicion immediately from the many servants she was sure were in Savage’s employ.

  Picking up the broom, she placed it back in the broom cupboard, staring into the inky darkness of the small space for a moment. Her heart quickened its pace as she remembered how Lord Cunningham had held her, the darkness shrouding them both.

  Now is not the time to consider your feelings for the man, Charity, she scolded herself, stepping backwards and closing the door to the cupboard. You have a job to do.

  Her hand briefly touched the roll of papers in her pocket, her heart slamming into her chest as she considered her next course of action. She would have to be careful and move quietly. Glancing up and down the hallway, Charity realised she was quite alone, although for how long that would be she could not quite tell.

  Moving towards Robert Savage’s study, where he had been discussing business with Rashton only half an hour earlier, Charity tried the door handle only to discover it unlocked. That was a surprise in itself, although Charity supposed that the man did not expect anyone to enter without his permission. He thought himself quite safe, she presumed. After all, if he was an imposter like Lord Cunningham suspected, then he must believe himself to have gotten away with his deception. He had been living here for some time, after all, his papers accepted without question. As such, there would be no reason for him to lock his study, particularly when he had probably intended to return to it very soon.

  Her hand trembled as she grasped the side of the heavy door, pulling it open so that she might slip inside. A thunder of thoughts weighed down in her memory as she scrambled to think of any kind of excuse should someone be in the room – but, as she stepped inside she could see no one else.

  The door shut behind her, making only the tiniest of sounds. Charity scanned the room once more, to ensure she was entirely alone, before stepping forward a little further.

  “Where might you keep them?” she murmured to herself, looking across the room. It had once been where Miss Hemsworth had worked, but her uncle had taken it over almost immediately, spending money to make it ‘more suited’ to his tastes. It had been light and airy, but now it was done up in swathes of dark green material with touches of dark leather. Overall, it gave the room something of a foreboding appearance, which Charity did not altogether appreciate.

  She had to work quickly. Time was not on her side. Moving to the study desk, Charity began to pull open drawers, her fingers shaking as she began to leaf through various papers. Knowing that she could not allow anything to look as though it had been disturbed, Charity was careful to replace everything just as it was, her heart slowly sinking as she finished the search of the desk and finding no papers to speak of.

  Keeping one eye on the door, Charity looked around the room. Where else might the man hide his papers? They were important, of course, for they held his claim over Miss Hemsworth and the school itself, so he would not have simply disregarded them onto some pile of documents. He would have put them somewhere secure, somewhere where he could access them easily should he need to. A place of prominence yet one still hidden.

  Taking a few steps forward, Charity looked out of the dirty window to the street below. Savage could see everything that went on outside, could see who was coming and going, all the while hiding behind the murky window. That was exactly who he was. Hiding his true self yet trying to control everything, keeping his eyes on every little thing that went on.

  Stepping away from the window, Charity frowned heavily and let the frustration and anger she felt towards Robert Savage be the guide to searching his study. Hiding in plain sight. That was what she needed to look for.

  Wandering around the room, Charity looked in various places, but still, could not find anything. Her heart began to beat frantically as she wondered just how much time she had already spent searching, hoping that Savage was still sound asleep. Where can they be?

  She might not get another chance to search his study, and the weight of the investigation rested firmly on her shoulders. She had promised Lord Cunningham that she could do this, had asked them both to trust her. She could not fail now.

  Her eyes landed on a portrait of Robert Savage, her lips tugging into a moue of distaste. Miss Hemsworth had once had a landscape up there, one that one of the girls had painted, but Robert had removed it almost the very moment he had taken ownership of the school. Of course, it came as no surprise that the man would have a picture of himself up on the walls, given his arrogance.

  A sudden idea hit Charity full force. Would he have made a secure space behind the portrait, cutting into the wall? After all, the man had sent workers in to redo the study in its entirety, so there was no reason he could not have done such a thing.

  Reaching the portrait, Charity went to lift it gingerly, only for it to swing open to her left, evidently hinged to the wall. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the space behind it. Standing on tiptoe, Charity reached forward and picked up the papers that lay within.

  A cloud of dust made her sneeze, her eyes watering as she unrolled the papers. Her heart leapt as she realised what she held – the very papers they had been looking for.

  She did not have time to study them now, opting instead to roll them back up as quickly as she could. Pulling the copies from her pocket, she placed them into the hidden space in the same place as she had taken the genuine documents. Pushing the portrait back into place, she let herself sag against the wall for a moment, relief flooding through her veins.

  Go, Charity, screamed the voice in her head, as weakness rushed into her limbs. It was a sign of just how great her relief was, but it did not help her at this precise moment. Forcing herself to move, Charity walked to the door – only to hear voices approaching.

  “You say your list is in your study, uncle?” Charity heard Miss Hemsworth say. “Can you not recall the names from memory?”

  “No, I cannot,” came the harsh reply. “There are only six names on this list, Martha, and they are the girls you need to prepare for the ball. One is Charity, of course, but I still intend to send her to the colonies regardless. I doubt any man, regardless of his status within society, would willingly take on a girl meant for another.”

  Charity’s heart dropped to her toes just as panic flared in her chest. Where was she to go? She could hide herself, but then again, she did not know how long Savage would remain in his study. It could be the rest of the evening! Knowing she only had moments to spare Charity pressed herself against the wall beside the door, the precious papers in her pocket. With any luck, Robert Savage would walk straight past her and towards his study desk. She would only have seconds to do it, but she could slip out behind Miss Hemsworth, should she have the chance.

  The study doors were flung open, slamming against the wall with a loud crash that made Charity jump. Robert Savage stalked through the door, right towards his study desk just as she’d predicted. Praying that he would not look around, Cha
rity slipped from her space and hurried out of the door, almost bumping into Miss Hemsworth.

  “Oh!”

  Miss Hemsworth covered her mouth with her hand almost at once, beginning to cough loudly.

  Charity, her heart pounding in her chest, slumped against the wall outside the study in relief, closing her eyes as she prayed Savage had not noticed Miss Hemsworth’s exclamation of surprise.

  “I will just fetch a drink, Uncle,” Miss Hemsworth said, still coughing and spluttering. “Excuse me for a few moments, please.”

  From where she stood, Charity heard Savage mutter something, leaving Miss Hemsworth free to grasp Charity’s arm and walk with her back along the hallway and towards her rooms.

  “Do you have them?” Miss Hemsworth asked, the moment they were out of earshot of the study. “I am so sorry we could not keep him longer than that. By the time we drew near the study, it was apparent that he was already awake. Lord Cunningham received a missive that called him away unexpectedly and I was forced to attend my uncle. He wanted to show me the list of the six girls he had chosen to attend the ball, even though I am quite sure I already know who they are.” Worry clouded her eyes as she looked at Charity, her hand squeezing her arm gently before letting go.

  “Yes, I found them,” Charity murmured, hearing Miss Hemsworth’s gasp of exhilaration. “Only just in time, I might add. Your uncle has a hiding space behind his portrait on the wall.”

  Miss Hemsworth shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Well done, Charity. I am sure Lord Cunningham will be more than delighted to receive the papers tomorrow. You are to meet him at 2pm?”

  “At the Bell and Whistle, coaching inn, yes,” Charity replied, her cheeks warming at the thought. “Do you think you should accompany me?”

  A quiet laugh escaped from Miss Hemsworth. “It would probably be for the best. That man has only got eyes for you, my dear, and we do not want anything to spoil either your or his reputations.”

  “I am not sure that is quite true,” Charity replied, even though her heart leapt at Miss Hemsworth’s words. “But I would be grateful for your company. It might draw some suspicion were I to be seen meeting with Lord Cunningham alone.”

  Opening the door to her rooms, Miss Hemsworth ushered Charity inside. “I believe you do Lord Cunningham a disservice in refusing to acknowledge his attentions to you, Charity. He is obviously quite smitten! The man could not take his eyes from you today, and after sending you that gift….”

  Charity refused to dwell on that, sitting down with a sigh in the comfortable chair next to the fireplace. “All we have to focus on is finding out the truth about your so-called uncle, Miss Hemsworth. Everything else will have its time after that.”

  ELEVEN

  David could not help but pace, wondering whether Miss Worthington had been successful. He had been frustrated to have been called away at such short notice yesterday, but there was a development in the investigation into Robert Savage and a matter that his London clerks had brought to his attention via messenger. Having spent all morning on it, he could finally focus on his dealing regarding St Bernadette.

  Fear ricocheted through his chest as the time struck 2pm, but still, there was no sign of Miss Worthington. Had something terrible happened to her?

  David could not help but think of what Robert Savage might have done, had he discovered her in his private study. The threat of sending her to the colonies was not one easily dismissed, but David was quite sure that Savage would easily be able to find another situation for Miss Worthington given half the chance. She could be on her way to Scotland, or some other godforsaken place by now! His heart began to beat frantically in his chest as he continued to pace, glancing at pocket watch and realising that it was now close to five minutes past the hour. The worst must have happened!

  “Lord Cunningham?”

  Spinning on his heel, David’s eyes lit on Miss Worthington, accompanied by Miss Hemsworth. Such was his relief that he grasped her bodily by the shoulders and held her tightly against him for a brief moment, his breath leaving his body in one huge sigh of relief. Before he was quite aware of what he was doing, he felt Miss Worthington stiffen slightly, then begin to relax. A slight cough made him start, seeing Miss Hemsworth standing to his right, with gentle humour lurking in her eyes.

  “Ah,” he muttered, stepping back and releasing Miss Worthington. “I do apologise, Miss Worthington. That was quite abrupt, I realise, and in broad daylight too! You cannot imagine how relieved I am to see you. I had thought the worse, I admit.”

  “We are late, so of course you might,” she replied, looking not in the least bit perturbed over his embrace, although there were two spots of colour in her cheeks. “I must apologise for that, Lord Cunningham. I did not mean to worry you.”

  “We realised that one of my uncle’s servants has been following us,” Miss Hemsworth added, sitting down on the bench to his left. “We have attempted to evade him, but I am sure it will not be long until he finds us.”

  Miss Worthington shook her head, biting her lip. David found himself wanting to step forward and release it from her teeth, wanting to run his finger over the spot. Such a delicate mouth did not deserve to be tortured so! The thought had a blast of heat rushing over him, pushing all thoughts of the documents and Robert Savage from his mind.

  “You had best give the documents, Charity,” Miss Hemsworth continued, sounding slightly tense. “When my uncle’s man finds us again, he will not think much of us bumping into Lord Cunningham in the inn, although he may become suspicious if he discovers that we are passing something to him.”

  “Yes, of course,” Miss Worthington murmured, distractedly. Pulling a small roll of papers from her pocket, she moved a little closer to him and held them out to him, keeping her back to the path just in case the man should appear.

  “I thank you,” David murmured, taking them from her in such a way that their fingers met. She did not wear gloves, and he had already removed his. The jolt he felt was so profound that he was sure she felt it too and, from the look in her eyes, she was as surprised as he was.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” came Miss Hemsworth’s voice. “I think I see an acquaintance walking just over there. I will not be long.”

  David found that he could not reply, finding Miss Worthington’s nearness far too distracting. He could almost feel her breath on his cheek, unable to break the connection with her as he continued to look into her eyes. When had she become so beautiful? She had been quite lovely but had grown into such a breath-taking creature overnight that he could hardly get his mind from the desire to kiss her.

  “You have been most courageous, Miss Worthington,” he murmured, catching the way her eyes lit up at his compliment. “I confess that I do not know many others – if any – who would have done what you did.”

  “I was a little afraid,” she admitted, sounding a little breathless. “And you would not believe it, but Robert Savage walked back into the study before I had made my escape! It was only by sheer force of luck that I heard him approach and was able to slip out just as he entered.”

  David swallowed and caught her hand in his, holding it surreptitiously so as not to catch anyone’s attention. “I was afraid for you,” he admitted. “When you did not appear at 2pm precisely, I began to worry that Savage had discovered you and had sent you away the very same day.” He gave a slight shake of his head, dropping his gaze from her eyes before lifting his head to look back at her once more. “I could not imagine never seeing you again, Miss Worthington.”

  He saw emotion flicker in her eyes.

  “Lord Cunningham, I —”

  “Ah, Cunningham!”

  David stepped away from Miss Worthington at once, recognising a friend approaching them. Surprise was quickly followed by unease. What rotten luck to run into someone he knew out here in Nettlefold of all places.

  His face burned as he realised that his friend would be quite interested in whomever it was David had been
speaking to. An unnerving need to ensure how he felt about Miss Worthington remained secret, he stepped directly in front of her, hiding her from view.

  “Thurston, how are you?” he said, loudly. “It is not long since I saw you last!”

  “Too long since you have been at the club, however,” Thurston replied, slapping David on the back. “What are you doing so far away from home? Working hard on some case of national importance as usual?”

  “I do not work,” David grinned, jovially. “My clerks do. I merely supervise and present cases to the magistrate or the Crown Court. What are you doing here?”

  “I am on a stopover on my way to Devon. Although I do know the area well as the Marquess of Westwood is a distant relative,” Thurston replied. “What a coincidence that we should bump into each other.” Thurston regarded him with interest. “And who was that delightful creature you were talking with just now, Cunningham? I do not think I have ever laid eyes on her before. Is she a local?”

  “Ah,” David replied, moving aside so that he might introduce Charity, only to realise that she had left his side. “She is merely an acquaintance of a Miss Hemsworth. Miss Hemsworth, as you can see, is just over there.”

  Thurston scrunched up his eyes and peered at Miss Hemsworth, who was still deep in conversation with another young lady. “Miss Hemsworth, you say? Isn’t she the one who runs that school. St Bernadette?”

  David bristled immediately. “And does very well, I might add.”

  To his surprise, Thurston let out a bark of laughter. “No need to be so defensive, old man. I am well aware of the kind of ladies who attend that school and think their stations somewhat sad if I am honest.”

  Frowning, David turned back to Thurston.

  “Sad?”

  “Indeed,” Thurston replied. “It is not their fault that they were borne out of wedlock, is it now? Nor that they find themselves in otherwise reduced circumstances. It seems quite right that there should be some establishment where they might have the opportunity to make the best of themselves.”