Where is the rest of it?
She took off the piece of paper that she had pulled off, but there the ink was smudged and illegible. Desperately, she tried to put the ripped paper together to form the secret note, but it was impossible to read the rest of the letter. She closed her eyes tightly in frustration, throwing the papers away from her angrily.
What did she fear? Why did she want to warn me, lest I end up like her? This doesn’t make any sense!
The following morning, Caroline woke feeling dreadful. Her dreams had been filled with an anguished looking Miss Pembroke shouting at her, asking for her help. But try as she might, she had been unable to hear what she was saying. It was very early, but she could not sleep. She stood by her window and looked outside.
I wonder if Mr. Langley has been able to find Emma?
Pondering whether she ought to send him another letter, she moved to her worktable. In the small locked drawer at the top was the incomplete letter from Miss Pembroke, along with all of Mr. Langley’s notes.
The sun was slowly rising, and it brought with it the promises that only a new day could bring. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the mystery with the former lady’s maids, Miss Pembroke’s letter, and all the secrecy that her life had become immersed with.
Whenever I think about this, I feel as if there is a connection, a pattern of sorts. But just as I think I see it, it vanishes into thin air.
Without planning to, she began writing. The quill scratched the paper rapidly, and the familiar ache in her hand began. But she had begun to treasure this pain, for it meant she was doing what she loved.
Once Madeleine arrived to help her get dressed, she had finished writing, and she felt a grandiose purpose course through her. “Good morning, My Lady,” Madeleine said.
“Good morning,” she replied. “I have another letter.”
“Of course you do.” Madeleine grinned, helping her into the pale yellow gown she had chosen. “I can ask Jimmy to take it if you would like.”
“Thank you,” she said. A twinge of nervousness shot through her.
I fear that this will be too much for him. Mr. Langley might not wish to publish this text under his own name!
Jasper opened the door to his office. When he stepped inside, he felt something soft under his feet. Peering down, he noticed neatly folded papers. A huge grin spread his lips. His name was written on the front in his favorite handwriting. Lady Caroline’s perfume wafted to his senses, causing his mind to conjure up the most wonderful images of her, quivering in his arms as he kissed her hard.
Vaguely aware of where he was, he closed the door and sat at his desk and untied the small ribbon. As he read, his heart swelled with pride. Never before had he come across a writer quite like Lady Caroline. Her choice of words and the sharpness of her writing was thrilling. This was her most provocative piece so far. She had written about women’s education and rights. It was rather scandalous, in fact.
I must bring this to Mr. Fielding at once!
He placed the article in his jacket pocket and hurried outside. It was raining, and he ran most of the way, cursing the cold droplets. When he arrived, he was soaked through, but thankfully the article was intact. He entered the office of the Examiner and asked for Mr. Fielding.
“Mr. Langley!” Mr. Fielding shouted joyfully from his office. He opened the door and approached him. “I hope this means you are here to give me another splendid article.”
“It does mean exactly that,” he replied.
“Come to my office, old chap,” Mr. Fielding said. “A nice cup of tea and a spot of brandy will warm you right up.”
“Thank you, that would be excellent.” He followed Mr. Fielding to his office, taking a seat in front of him.
“What did you write about this time?” Mr. Fielding waved his assistant to bring them drinks. “Property tax? Or let me guess, you are tackling the royalty?” He roared with laughter.
“Actually, no,” he said, handing him the slightly damp article.
“You won’t tell me anything?” Mr. Fielding took the papers and leafed through them. “It’s a long one this time. All right then, I will read it right now!”
The assistant arrived with their drinks, but Mr. Fielding’s wide grin faded as he read. Jasper drank his tea, observing his longtime friend. Mr. Fielding seemed to be reading slower than the last times he had been here. Finally, he put down the article and took a large sip of his brandy.
“What caused you to write this?” Mr. Fielding stared at him.
“Will you print it?”
“This will upset many,” Mr. Fielding hesitated.
“It might,” he replied. “But nothing I wrote is inaccurate.”
“That’s true.”
They sat in silence until Mr. Fielding stood up abruptly. “Wait here.” He left the room and rushed down the narrow corridor. Jasper waited for a long while before Mr. Fielding returned.
“I spoke with my colleagues,” Mr. Fielding explained. “One says we ought to print; another one says we absolutely cannot print this.”
“What do you think?”
“Langley, old friend, you have always been an advocate for those who have none, but this…” Mr. Fielding’s voice trailed off.
“You have to make this decision,” he said calmly. “Certainly there will be some that disagree with me, but it might cause others to rethink, or even have a change of heart in these matters.”
“Of course, you are right.” Mr. Fielding sighed, reading the first part of the article again. “Crikey, this is a fierce polemic against inequalities, I must say.”
“Should I take this back?” He pointed to the article.
“No, blimey, I’ll print,” Mr. Fielding said. “This is just too good not to publish.”
When Jasper returned to the street where his office was, the rain had begun pouring over him once again. Hastily, he ran toward the building. He opened the door and then someone called his name.
“Mr. Langley!” Mr. McIntire called from behind him.
“Constable,” he replied. “Come inside.” They walked up the steps to his office, dripping water all over.
“Do you have news?” He asked when he had closed the door behind them.
“I do,” Mr. McIntire replied.
“Did you find her,” he said anxiously. “Did you find Emma?”
“Aye, I found her, or found out where she has gone,” Mr. McIntire replied.
“Well, where is she?” He was frustrated with having to pull the information out of the Constable.
“I found out that she hastily left her home, and that she has taken all her funds with her.” He pulled a pipe from his pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply.
“How did you manage to find that out?” Jasper asked.
“I am a very persuasive man, Mr. Langley,” Mr. McIntire said with a rough chortle. “She purchased a ride with a post chaise going to Liverpool.”
“Liverpool? Why would she go there?”
“I think Liverpool is not her final destination,” Mr. McIntire said thoughtfully.
“What makes you think that?”
“Someone in her position could not have afforded to take the direct route, so two separate stagecoaches will be her only option.” Mr. McIntire sucked on his pipe with vigor.
“Direct route to where?” He was almost shouting now.
“I believe Emma will take the carriage up North,” Mr. McIntire finally spat out. “I think she is fleeing the country.”
“You think she’s going to Scotland?” He paced back and forth, considering what Mr. McIntire had just told him.
“Aye, I do.”
“I will pay you for your trouble,” he said, his mind buzzing. “Although, I will most likely ask for your assistance again if you do not object to that.”
“There is something murky going on,” Mr. McIntire continued, a cloud of smoke now surrounded him.
“What makes you say that?” Jasper handed him the banknotes.
&
nbsp; “It is quite clear that young Emma wasn’t only fleeing this country. She was fleeing someone!”
Chapter 32
Owen tapped his foot impatiently against the carriage floor. He had hired a black, covered hackney with heavy dark curtains that completely hid him from view. It was stationed nearby Lady Louisa’s home. He had not heard from her in a long while, not since she sent him the note explaining she was ill.
What is taking so long? She received my letter yesterday; surely she will have found a way to sneak away!
He needed to know that she was still agreeable to their understanding, and he worried if he left her alone for too long, she might have reservations.
At long last, the footman opened the carriage door and helped Lady Louisa step inside. While the door was open, Owen pulled his hat down, hiding his face from view. As soon as she had sat down, the footman shut the door, and the carriage began moving.
“Owen!” Lady Louisa exclaimed.
“Darling, how are you,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I have missed you.”
“This has been awful,” she replied. He noticed that she was very pale and had heavy bags under her eyes.
“Do you feel better?”
She smiled weakly at him, but that seemed to be a little too much for her, as she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “Darling?” He asked cautiously.
“Forgive me, it appears that I am still not entirely well.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she brushed them away brusquely.
“I have been ever so worried about you,” he said, stroking his thumb across the back of her gloved hand.
“You have been all I have thought of,” she replied. “The thought that you are waiting for me has been given me strength.”
“Darling, in your letter,” he began. “You wrote about your concern that your parents would fetch the physician. I must know, did that happen?”
“No, but I fear I will not be able to convince them this is a simple fever for much longer,” she wailed. “My lady’s maid has been helping me get up for breakfast, but I have no strength nor appetite, and this has not gone unnoticed.”
“You have to remain strong,” he said encouragingly.
“I fear that I cannot,” she whispered.
“There is no other option, you must be vigilant—we must be vigilant if we are ever going to have a chance to be together!” To his dismay, his words did not seem to have the desired effect on her as he expected. She did not look at him, but wrung her hands over and over, her breathing shallow.
“Perhaps…” She began, but her voice trailed off timidly.
“Perhaps what?”
“I have been wondering whether it might be better if we simply get married now,” Lady Louisa said nervously. “It would certainly be shocking, and perhaps a little scandalous, but at last we would not have to hide anymore—” She stopped speaking when she looked at him.
“Do you not trust me, Louisa?” He held her hand tightly.
“Of course, I trust you!” She spluttered.
“This is more complicated than you can imagine,” he said slowly. He took a deep breath, making sure he did not sound callous. “I would like nothing more than marrying you right now, but it would never work. You simply don’t understand what is at stake here, but I don’t blame you for that.”
He brought her hands to his lips, pulling off her gloves one by one. “You should concentrate on your wellbeing.” He kissed her knuckles gently. “That is all I want you to do, all that is important.” He turned her hand around and kissed her palm, causing her to giggle at the sensation.
“I was silly,” she replied breathily.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’ve missed you.” He inhaled the scent from her hair, and she melted into his embrace.
“Oh, Owen!” She gasped and turned to meet his lips with hers.
That was far too close. I will have to keep her focused on what is at stake here, lest she says something stupid.
“Where is Lord Estaria this evening?” Lord Brighney asked later that evening at the dinner table. “I thought he was joining us for dinner?”
“No, not tonight,” the Dowager Duchess said curtly, sipping her wine. Caroline took a small bite from her plate. She had been thinking about Lord Estaria’s conspicuous absence. She was sure that he had been invited to dinner that night. At least she would not complain.
This had been a quiet day. In the morning, she had written and re-written a letter to send to Miss Pembroke, but slowly her paper wastebasket filled with crumpled and crossed out letters. Caroline desperately wanted to ask her to send her message again, but the way Miss Pembroke sent the secret letter worried her.
It is obvious she did not wish anyone to see the note except me, but sending a sealed letter would surely have sufficed?
She worried that if she would send Miss Pembroke a letter where she mentioned the warning, she might cause harm. Perhaps, Miss Pembroke could not trust that her letters would not be confiscated. Lady Anna had previously indicated that her husband was cruel. Caroline had been trying over and over to find a way to inform Miss Pembroke that she had not read the final part of the warning, but was unsuccessful.
But since late afternoon, she had been harboring a wild flame within her. Ever since Madeleine had brought her a copy of the Examiner, which featured her latest article. The article was much longer, taking almost an entire opening in the newspaper. She was desperate to talk about it but did not want to be the one who brought it up.
“I will need to travel to Bath next week,” her father said.
“Will you be gone long?” Caroline asked.
“Perhaps a week or so,” he replied. “We will need time to prepare for the case, but I don’t expect we will require more than a week.”
“You will miss another ball,” her aunt said pointedly.
“And we all know how much I adore these balls, don’t we?” Lord Brighney teased, winking at Caroline, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.
“It would do you well to see your daughter at these gatherings.” The Dowager Duchess spoke with exasperation.
“I do not doubt that you look absolutely lovely at every ball you attend, poppet,” he said sweetly. “But, I have been preparing for this case for a long while.”
“Thank you, Father,” she said, purposefully not looking at her aunt, who seemed quite irritated now.
“I might ask Mr. Langley to join me,” her father said. Caroline looked up at once. “Might help move the case along. He has, after all, been assisting me with it for a while now.”
“Is that so?” her aunt said, clearly not interested.
“But, crikey, his latest article was an interesting one!” She stared at her father, feeling her heart hammering with excitement.
“What was it about?” She asked, trying with all her might to remain calm.
“He wrote about, well, in essence, he was advocating for women’s education,” he said.
“I did read the article, it was rather good,” her aunt said reluctantly.
“I might bring him with me if only to have someone to have a proper conversation with.” Lord Brighney laughed heartily. “He certainly does not shy away from controversy, that one!”
After dinner, Caroline sat in the drawing room reading. Hearing her father speak about her writing had left her somewhat speechless. Her aunt had left a while ago, and she decided to retire to her room. As she walked past the parlor, she could hear her father speaking with her aunt. The mention of her name caused her to pause by the entrance. Slowly, she pressed her ear to the door, listening carefully.
“What are you saying?” She heard her father say.
“That we should simply consider all options carefully,” the Dowager Duchess said urgently.
“Caroline cannot be refusing suitors every Season!” Her father seemed to be getting angry.
“That is not what I am considering,” her aunt replied calmly.
“Then what is it yo
u are considering?”
“Lord Estaria’s behavior has been most unruly, and as I mentioned it was brought to my attention that—”
“I will not be dictated by petty lies and gossip,” he interrupted.
“Of course not,” her aunt replied, speaking in a low and hushed voice.
“He is a fine gentleman, and will make a good husband for Caroline.” Her father spoke with determination.
For the Lust of a Rogue: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 20