by Wolf, Bree
Caroline shrugged off her friend’s hands and strode over to the window. “Very well,” she said, firmly keeping her back to Sarah. “I know his secret.” At least she assumed as much. “And I know he would not hurt me.” Another assumption. “He is the only one who knows where Rebecca is.” She finally turned to face her friend. “I need to speak to him.”
“You want to leave? Now? In the dark?” Sarah stared at her incredulously.
Caroline nodded, frowning. “Don’t act as though it would be the first time.”
“This is different,” Sarah insisted. “It’s not an emergenc—”
“Yes, it is! Do you truly think I can sleep a wink not knowing if she is all right?” Caroline stated vehemently, and Sarah sighed—a first sign of weakness. Caroline pounced on it! “I promise I’ll be careful as always.” Fortunately, Sarah did not know about the masked stranger Caroline had encountered more than once on her nightly outings or her friend would never allow her to go. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll accompany y—”
“No!” Caroline interrupted lightning-quick. “You need to stay here and make sure that my parents don’t learn of this.”
Again, Sarah sighed. “I don’t like this.”
Caroline almost squealed in triumph. “Thank you. Thank you.” She gave her friend a quick hug and then rushed to dress. In less than ten minutes, Sarah was guiding her along the servants’ stairs, ensuring that no one was up and about. Then Caroline slipped out through the servants’ entrance and kept her head down as she headed down the street.
Fortunately, according to Sarah, Lord Markham’s townhouse was only a few streets away.
Caroline’s heart pounded wildly as she hurried through the night. It pounded even stronger when she came to stand outside the man’s home who might know her like no other ever had. Or had ever wanted to. What was she to do now? Knock on the door? Would his butler have palpitations finding a young woman on the doorstep past dark? Or would that be more of a common occurrence?
Caroline begrudgingly admitted that she knew very little about the man he was.
“Too late to turn back now,” she mumbled to herself and then made to head toward the front steps when she noticed someone rushing toward the street from the servants’ entrance.
Caroline froze, panic racing up and down her spine. What if she was discovered?
Before Caroline could duck behind the nearest tree or lamppost though, she caught the faint sound of sobs echoing through the night air. Her eyes narrowing, she peered through the fence more closely and could make out the outline of a little girl running toward her.
Caroline’s jaw dropped, and her mind raced at all the implications that suddenly flooded it. Had there not been rumors? Lots of rumors! Far from complimenting rumors about…about…
The girl reached the pavement, then tripped and fell forward.
Caroline was striding toward her barely a second later, the little one’s soft cries filling her mind before she knelt down beside her. “Are you all right?”
Clutching her knee, the girl shrank back, large tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared up at Caroline, naked fear only too visible in her dark eyes.
“Everything’s all right,” Caroline whispered, holding up her hands to show that she meant the girl no harm. “Did you skin your knee? Is it bleeding?”
Momentarily distracted, the girl glanced down at the small red stain on her white nightgown. Her eyes grew bigger and Caroline could see deep sobs working their way up her throat.
“Here, let me help you,” she said quickly, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and wrapping it around the girl’s knee. “Who is that?” she asked, gesturing to the oddly hairless doll clutched in the girl’s arm. “Does she have a name?” Caroline sincerely hoped that it was a she, but it was hard to tell considering the doll’s baldness. However, with little girls, it was reasonable to assume that the doll was a she.
“Mary,” the girl whispered, confirming Caroline’s suspicion.
“Hello, Mary,” Caroline greeted the hairless doll. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” Then she leaned in to listen intently. “Oh, I’m glad you’re fine. But you’ll let me know if anything starts hurting, do you promise?” She paused for effect. “Good. Thank you.”
Then she turned to look at the little girl.
“You’re nice,” the girl remarked.
“Thank you,” Caroline replied, carefully brushing a hand down the girl’s arm. “I’m Caroline. Do you have a name as well?” Belatedly, it occurred to her that it perhaps wasn’t all that wise to give the child her real name. However, what was done was done.
“Daphne,” the little one whispered, her wide eyes returning to Lord Markham’s townhouse.
“Why are you out here by yourself, Daphne?” Caroline asked carefully, hoping her question would not spook the child. “Where are your parents?”
A quiver ran along the girl’s jaw, and she pulled the doll into her arms with lightning speed, a desperate need for comfort in her eyes.
“Hush, little one,” Caroline cooed, trying to ignore the rising hairs on the back of her neck. Something was very wrong! “Do you live here? Is…is your father inside?”
Glancing up at the darkened house, Daphne nodded.
Caroline swallowed the lump that had lodged in her throat. Was the girl Markham’s daughter? “And…and your mother? Where is she? Is she inside as well?”
Again, the girl’s jaw quivered, but she refused to answer, terror in her wide eyes as though she were trapped in a nightmare and couldn’t wake.
That forlorn look in Daphne’s eyes broke Caroline’s heart, and she reached out to brush a hand down the girl’s cheek. “Did something frighten you?”
Swallowing, Daphne nodded and she clutched Mary tighter into her arms.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“At first, I thought it was a dream,” Daphne whispered and her little jaw began to tremble, her teeth chattering together loudly. “But I couldn’t scream. In my dreams, I always scream…and then I wake up.” She shook her head in denial, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “It wasn’t a dream. Papa promised he wouldn’t find me, but he did.” She looked up at Caroline, then suddenly surged forward and into her arms. “But now he’s here. He’ll hurt me like he hurt my mama.”
Overwhelmed, Caroline clutched the child to her chest, her own heart aching with the pain and fear the little one experienced. Had the girl’s nightmare truly come true? Was there someone after her? Did it have something to do with Lord Markham? Was he not the man she’d thought—?
Caroline froze when the front door to Lord Markham’s residence was flung open and a man stormed out, angry footsteps carrying him down the few steps toward the pavement.
Instinctively, Caroline retreated farther into the shadows, flinging her dark cloak over the child in her arms to keep the moonlight from reflecting off her white nightgown. Fortunately, Daphne had gone all but limp in her arms, exhaustion closing her eyes once more.
Caroline held her breath as she peered at the man’s silhouette. Instantly, her heart jumped into her throat as shock slammed into her.
For it was none other than Lord Coleridge!
And the look on his face told her that Daphne’s nightmare had not been a mere nightmare, after all. Oh God, what had he done?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Answers Given & Received
Running his fingers through his hair, Pierce stopped pacing and braced his hands against the mantel, slightly hanging his head and inhaling a deep breath. He well remembered the viscount’s anger at having his prize snatched away from under his fingers. Still, what Pierce remembered even better was the cold detachment in the man’s eyes.
Something was deeply wrong with how Coleridge saw the world around him as well as those in it. He was a calculating man, who knew how to play a role to perfection. The anger Pierce had seen in him tonight had been a first. Never before had he observed even the
slightest sign of a temper in the otherwise dull man. Pierce had always known that that boring façade was just that, a façade. After all, the more than proper gentleman enjoyed his gambling, enjoyed trips to the more scandalous areas of Town, enjoyed doing as he pleased when no one was looking. Pierce had observed so more than once. And he had never seen the man lose control.
That, in and of itself, was worrisome.
From experience, Pierce knew that those who easily lost their tempers were nowhere near as dangerous as those who knew well how to contain it.
How to fool others.
How to pretend to be someone they were not.
Pierce knew he’d do well to keep an eye on Coleridge. Who knew what the man was capable of? Would he try to harm Pembroke and Miss Rebecca Hawkins out of spite? Would he—?
“My lord!”
Rapid footsteps echoed down the stairs, and Pierce spun around at the sound of alarm in the voice drifting to his ears. Something was wrong, and the little hairs on the back of his neck rose, sending a gripping cold down his back.
In the next moment, Miss Glass burst into the room, her face ash-white and her eyes wide as she rushed toward him. “Daphne’s gone! She’s not in her bed! She’s gone!”
Pierce felt the blood drain from his face as he grabbed her by the shoulders, trying his best to remain calm. “Did you look through her chamber? And Susan’s? Perhaps she didn’t want to be alone.” With every fiber of his body, Pierce wanted to believe that there was a reasonable explanation, that Daphne was not truly gone, that she was somewhere in the house, hiding. Still, deep down, he knew it to be a false hope.
Miss Glass shook her head strongly, sending her blond curls flying. “No, I looked everywhere. She’s gone! Where could she be?” Tears formed in her pale eyes, and he could see his own fear reflected in her eyes.
Pierce swallowed hard, then lifted his chin and forced his panic back down. “Wake Albert,” he told her as he strode toward the foyer, Miss Glass on his heels. “Have him wake the whole house. Look everywhere. I will head out and—”
His voice broke off and his feet jarred to a halt when his eyes fell on none other than his little, grey mouse, standing in the middle of his foyer, a large bundle clutched in her arms. Her eyes were wide and her face looked pale, not from cold, but fear instead.
“Caroline,” Pierce whispered, for a moment unable to do anything else but stare at her. Then his gaze wandered to the small head lying in the crook of her arm and he immediately shot forward, relieved beyond measure to find Daphne sleeping peacefully in her arms.
“She talked about her papa,” his little mouse whispered, her blue eyes, unobstructed by those hideous spectacles, lingering on his face, a question burning there that needed no words.
Pierce nodded, then reached out to retrieve his child. “Yes, she’s mine,” he told her, knowing that despite everything he’d thought and said to the contrary before, it was the truth. Daphne was his daughter, and he loved her beyond reason.
Caroline swallowed, her jaw tensing as she glanced behind him. “I see,” was all she said. Her eyes, however, spoke volumes as they swept over Miss Glass.
Pierce exhaled a slow breath. Then he took a step forward, his eyes not veering from hers. “No, you don’t,” he told her, hoping she would hear the sincerity in his voice. He glanced down at his sleeping child and his hold on her tightened. “I’ll see her settled,” he whispered, then looked up and met Caroline’s gaze once more. “Do not leave.” He had to explain. He had to make her understand. He could not allow her to believe what everyone else liked to believe.
Not her.
She was different.
She needed to know the truth.
He needed her to know.
His little mouse gave no more than the barest imitation of a nod, but it would have to do.
“Miss Glass?” Pierce said over his shoulder to his daughter’s governess, who still stood quietly behind him. “Would you see Miss Hawkins to the drawing room?” Then his gaze returned to his little, grey mouse and became imploring. “Do not leave or I shall come after you.”
Her gaze narrowed slightly, suggesting a hint of disapproval at his threat. However, she once again nodded before she took a step toward him, her gaze hard as it held his. “I’ll not leave for you owe me answers.”
Pierce smiled. “I do, and I promise you’ll have them.”
Then he carried his daughter up the stairs and into her chamber. He gently settled her back into her bed and pulled the blanket over her little shoulders. She looked so peaceful and, yet, he knew the horror she had to have relived in order to send her fleeing from her bed. Would these nightmares never end?
As he stepped out of the room, Miss Glass met him, her gaze still fearful. “How is she?”
“She’s sleeping,” Pierce replied, not knowing what else to say.
“I’ll look after her,” Miss Glass promised, sympathy coming to her pale gaze. “Do not worry.”
“Thank you,” Pierce replied, gently squeezing her hand. “Where is she? Miss Hawkins.”
A small smile came to Miss Glass’ young face. “Pacing the drawing room like a caged lioness.”
Pierce chuckled, then bid her a good night and headed down the stairs.
As he drew closer to the half-open door of the drawing room, he could hear her soft footsteps as she strode up and down in front of the fireplace. Oddly enough, she was the second person to do so that day.
Stepping inside, Pierce closed the door behind him. “I’m surprised to see you,” he said, watching her spin around, her jaw tensing and her eyes accusing. “What are you doing here?”
His little mouse pushed back her shoulders, then crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a hard stare at him. “I came to ask you about Rebecca…and then I found your daughter.” Her jaw tensed further, and Pierce wondered if she realized how jealous she appeared in that moment. He could not deny that he loved it.
Approaching slowly, he held her gaze. “Your cousin is fine,” he told her calmly, watching the way her shoulders began to relax. “Pembroke stole her away.”
“Where are they?” she demanded, but her voice had softened and her arms dropped back to her sides.
“On their way to Scotland,” Pierce replied. “I expect them to be married in a day or two.”
Her blue gaze grew darker. “Married?”
“Do you disapprove?”
Watching him, she drew in a slow breath.
“He loves her,” Pierce whispered, noting the way a slight tremble chased itself down her spine. “Is that not enough?”
“How do you know?” she demanded.
“He told me.”
“He did?”
Pierce nodded. “The question is whether or not you believe me.” Holding her gaze, he moved closer, his slow, measured steps eating up the small distance between them until the tips of his shoes brushed against the hem of her dress. “Do you?”
“Should I?” she asked in return as her gaze swept over his face, a slight frown tugging on her brows. “I barely know you and, after tonight I feel as though I don’t know you at all. I don’t know what to believe.”
“Then ask your questions,” Pierce told her, mesmerized by the depth of her blue eyes as they traced the lines of his face. He could almost feel it as though she’d reached out to touch him.
Her gaze stilled. “I found her running out of the house, terrified.” Again, a question hung on her words, and he could see a reluctant accusation come to her eyes.
Pierce gritted his teeth against her distrust, for it felt like a physical blow, utterly painful. “She has nightmares,” he explained. “They’ve been haunting her for years.”
Frowning, Caroline shook her head. “But not tonight.”
Pierce stilled. “What do you mean?” His gaze narrowed as he sought to understand what it was she was saying. “Sometimes, her nightmares wake her and then she runs out of bed, afraid that…someone is after her.”
Oddly enou
gh, his little mouse nodded as though she truly did understand. “Perhaps it started that way, but tonight, she woke to find her nightmare alive and well in her home.” She snorted. “No wonder she ran out onto the street.”
Again, a chilling cold gripped Pierce’s heart as he stared at her, unable to process the implications of her words.
Seeing his face, her gaze narrowed. “You don’t know,” she whispered, and a touch of compassion came to her eyes. “It was Coleridge. She told me so herself. She said he hurt her mother and she was afraid he’d come to hurt her as well.”
Pierce almost toppled over at her words.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A Night Long Past
Unexpected was not a strong enough word for all that had happened that night.
From the moment Caroline had first caught sight of little Daphne, her head had been spinning out of control and it still hadn’t stopped. With every word, every observation, new implications formed in her mind and she knew not what to make of them.
The only thing that seemed crystal clear, in that moment, was that Lord Markham had not known of Lord Coleridge’s involvement in whatever had happened to the little girl and her mother. At her words, his face paled dangerously, shock freezing his features as his dark eyes stared back at her unblinking.
“Are you all right?” Caroline whispered, reaching out a comforting hand, but then stopped herself a hair’s breadth away from touching his arm.
His throat worked, and his gaze all but stared through her, his mind unaware of the mistake she’d almost made. Something seemed to work inside him and, slowly, his color began to return, chasing away the shock and replacing it with an emotion far more bearable, anger.
“I’ll kill him!” he growled as his body tensed, his hands rising and balling into fists.