Seaton wasn’t sure he wanted anyone from Berwick-upon-Tweed taking care of Lady Lark, in case she revealed something in her fevered state that might compromise her further. “I’ll take care of my…wife.” It was getting easier to say the word. And more certain that Lark would become his wife, whether he liked the idea or not.
He supposed his visit to Tearlach Castle would have to wait. Blackthorne’s American waif had been a prisoner there for two years. She would just have to remain one a few days longer.
BLACKTHORNE FOUND HIMSELF facing a footman dressed in his grandmother’s livery. Had she had an attack? Was she dying? He swallowed down the bile at the back of his throat and croaked, “Is the dowager duchess—”
The footman thrust a missive in his hand and said, “It don’t concern Her Grace.”
Blackthorne felt his knees wobble with relief and pressed his palm against the door to keep himself from falling down.
He wasn’t surprised that the footman knew the contents of the message he’d been sent to deliver. Servants often knew as much—or more—about what was going on in a household than the occupants themselves. But something was wrong, or his grandmother wouldn’t have sent a message to be delivered in the middle of the night.
Ignoring the fact that he was dressed in his nightshirt, he stepped outside onto the cold stone, where there was more moonlight, rather than take the time to light a lamp in order to read the message.
My dearest grandson,
I have the most dire news to import.
Blackthorne’s heartbeat ratcheted up, and the blood began to rush in his veins. He forced himself to continue reading whatever bad news his grandmother had thought deserved a midnight messenger.
You will doubtless think me the most foolish old woman when you hear what has happened. Had it not been for the veriest accident, I would never have discovered the truth. I take full responsibility for what has occurred.
What disaster could have befallen a houseful of women in the middle of London? he wondered. He wished his grandmother would get to the point. He tried skipping to the end but found himself gasping for breath when he read the words: She is gone.
Someone had died? Who had died? He skipped back up to the body of the letter and forced himself to read every word.
The Courts attended your wedding breakfast, and Lark asked if she might be allowed to go home with them for a visit. Since they are good friends, I agreed. Lark left one week after your wedding to travel north with them on the train. Imagine my consternation when I met Mrs. Court while shopping on Bond Street—after she had supposedly left London with Lark in her care.
It seems Stephanie contracted the measles, so the Courts were forced to remain in Town until her recovery. I naturally inquired about Lark, since, as you know, she has never had the measles. I discovered, to my horror, that Lark had never been invited to spend a week with the Courts in Berwick-upon-Tweed, and that Mrs. Court had no idea where Lark was.
I hurried home to question Lindsey as to her twin’s whereabouts, but she was also under the mistaken impression that her sister had been invited to spend time with the Courts.
I subsequently discovered that Lark’s maid is not with her! She has gone home to visit her mother. Your sister has simply disappeared—by herself—to heaven knows where.
She is gone.
The only person of Lark’s acquaintance who left London at the same time is the Earl of Seaton.
Could they possibly have eloped? I swear I never saw a romance developing between them, but I don’t know what else to think.
I hope you will forgive me for not keeping a closer eye on the girl, but she deceived her twin as well, so I’m certain something havey-cavey is afoot.
I regret the necessity of interrupting your honeymoon, but I believe your presence in London is required immediately.
Your Grandmama
Blackthorne swore, unable to believe the words he’d just read. Lark gone? Simply disappeared? And Grandmama thought she might have eloped? With Seaton, of all people? Impossible.
Or was it?
It was odd that Seaton hadn’t told him where he was going or how long he would be gone. Not that they were always in each other’s pockets, but in the general course of things, they spent enough time socializing together that, if Seaton had planned to be gone for any appreciable time, he would have said something.
Blackthorne considered whether it would be faster to take a coach to London tonight or wait for the train in the morning. The train made far more sense, especially since he had no intention of leaving his wife on her own, now that he’d learned who she really was.
“Tell Her Grace that my wife and I will be there by noon tomorrow. You can exchange your horse for one in the stables.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the messenger said. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Then he was gone. Likely the messenger would only make it back to London an hour or two before Blackthorne and his wife arrived on the train, but he wanted his grandmother to have the solace of knowing that he was on his way.
He stepped back inside the house, closed the door, and tensed when he heard someone breathing heavily in the darkness behind him. “Who’s there?”
“Who was that? Is something wrong?”
Blackthorne turned to find his wife standing wide-eyed in the moonlight. She looked so beautiful, with her golden hair tumbled around her shoulders, that his breath caught in his throat. “Lark has disappeared.”
“What do you mean?”
“She said she was going to visit friends, but those friends are still in London, and Lark is nowhere to be found.”
“How awful! You must be beside yourself with worry.”
Josie’s mild description didn’t begin to describe the terror he felt. His innocent sister was lost somewhere in—or perhaps out—of London, and he didn’t have a clue where to start looking for her.
“Are you leaving now to find her?” she asked.
“You and I are both going to London on the train in the morning.”
“I don’t see how I can be of much help in searching for your sister,” his wife protested.
“I don’t want to lose track of you while I’m hunting for Lark,” he said in a sharp voice.
He saw the anger flare in her eyes before she said, “You don’t trust me to stay here?”
“No.”
He couldn’t tell in the moonlight if Josie’s face had flushed, but a muscle worked in her jaw, before she lowered her eyes to the floor.
A moment later, she raised her gaze to meet his and said, “You’re not being fair.”
“I’m not being fair? I’m not the one who concealed my identity.”
“I told you my name,” she retorted. “Can I help it if you didn’t recognize it?”
“I never saw you again after I left the ship,” he shot back. “Where did you go? What happened to you?”
“You’re the one who broke his promise to send me home,” she accused.
“Your Grace? Is something wrong?”
Apparently they’d been shouting at each other loud enough to wake Harkness. “We’ll be leaving for London tomorrow,” he said.
“Is there anything I can do for you tonight?” Harkness asked.
“Go back to bed!” Blackthorne snapped.
Harkness raised his eyebrows, but having been a duke’s butler all his life, that was the extent of the expression he allowed himself.
“I’m sorry,” Blackthorne said immediately. “I’m not upset with you. Lark has disappeared.”
“I can remember a time when you and your brother went missing,” the old man said. “You turned up safe and sound. I’m sure the same will be true of your sister. Good night, Your Grace.”
As the old man disappeared down the dark hallway, Blackthorne thought back to the time he and Monty had run away. It didn’t offer much solace. They’d been caned once too often by their father for some slight infraction and had decided they would search out a camp of gypsies and travel in their
caravan as far from the duke as they could get.
He couldn’t imagine Lark leaving for such a reason, especially since he couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced any sort of corporal punishment. Had she felt too hemmed in by the dowager? Was that what had happened? Did she need more freedom than she’d been allowed? His grandmother was a strict taskmaster, and to his shame, he’d allowed the burden of his sister’s care to fall entirely on her for the past year.
He felt Josie’s hand on his arm, her offer of comfort surprising.
“She’ll probably already be home by the time we get there tomorrow,” she said.
Which reminded him he had a train trip with his wife to endure in the morning. He didn’t think he could sit in civilized silence with her for the length of the journey, if he didn’t have answers tonight to the questions that had been raised by his knowledge of who she was.
He saw her feet were bare on the stone floor, and he knew from his own bare feet that the stone was cold. He swept her into his arms and said, “We need to talk.”
For a moment he wasn’t sure whether she was going to fight her way free or allow him to hold her, but her arm slid around his neck, and she rested her head against his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what that sort of surrender portended. Was she going to tell him everything at last?
Blackthorne headed for the library, wondering how the woman in his arms could make him feel strong and protective, and annoyed enough to wring her neck, all at the same time. When they reached the library, he carefully set her down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He felt her fingertips caress his neck as her hand slid away, sending shivers down his spine. He wished he’d thought to sit down with her in his lap. But it was too late now.
He turned and built up the fire, then settled in the chair beside hers. He didn’t light a lamp, since he thought he could better conceal his disconcerting attraction to her in the shadows.
She spoke before he could say anything. “I have a few questions of my own to ask.”
“I have no secrets.”
“We’ll see.” She took a deep breath and asked, “Why didn’t you arrange to send me home as you promised?”
“But I did! I asked Seaton to make the arrangements immediately after I left the ship.”
She frowned. “And you trusted him to do as you asked?”
“Of course. He was, and is, my best friend. At the time, he was soon to be my brother-in-law.”
“Is there any reason you can think of why he wouldn’t do as you asked?”
“Are you telling me he didn’t?” Blackthorne said incredulously. “That you haven’t been in the bosom of your family in America for the past two years?”
“Answer my question,” she persisted.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can imagine no reason why Seaton wouldn’t have done as I asked.”
“Did you ever confirm with him that he’d followed your instructions?”
He started to say yes and stopped himself. He’d never asked Seaton about the girl, because he’d assumed his friend had followed his wishes. He hadn’t wanted to know where she’d asked to go, for fear that he might be tempted to seek her out. “No,” he admitted at last. “I never asked for confirmation.”
“Am I to presume that you had no idea where he arranged for me to be sent?”
“You may presume that, yes.” He hesitated, then asked, “Where did he send you?”
“Tearlach Castle.”
Blackthorne came out of his chair and stood facing her. “What? That property is mine, not Seaton’s. Where would he get the audacity—or the authority—to do such a thing?”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“I’m saying it’s impossible.”
“Would you like me to describe the place?” she said in a stony voice. “I know it well, having worked there for the past two years as a maid.”
“Worked there? As a maid?” Blackthorne was appalled. “I don’t believe you.” What she suggested was ludicrous.
“Why would I lie?” she asked, rising from her chair, her hands fisted, to confront him barefoot toe to barefoot toe.
“Why would Seaton leave you there? It makes no sense.” Blackthorne could imagine no circumstances that would cause his friend to divert the American he’d rescued to one of someone else’s properties, let alone force her to take employment as a maid.
“It’s true.”
Then Blackthorne remembered that his bride was extravagantly wealthy. “You obviously had the financial means to leave. Why would you stay?”
“I didn’t learn of my inheritance until a few days before I came to London and met you. In fact, I was on my way home to my family—who’d finally located me and provided the funds for the journey—when I heard of your need for a bride to save Blackthorne Abbey.”
“Am I to believe you knew exactly who I was—what I had done for you in the Sioux village—when you married me?”
She nodded.
“So you married me to repay me for saving your life,” he said scornfully.
She didn’t confirm his statement. But she didn’t contradict him, either.
“I didn’t want your charity,” he said harshly. “And it was no kindness to put me in your debt, when I have no way to repay you.”
“But there is a way you can repay me, Your Grace.”
He arched a brow at her use of his title. “I’m listening.”
“You can place your nephews in my care.”
It suddenly dawned on him that at one point, she’d pretended not to know he had nephews, when she must have spent the past two years in their company. That was odd, but it also made a kind of sense, since she’d been concealing the fact that she’d spent the past two years in England. “I have no objection to bringing Spencer and Clay to live with us here at the Abbey, as soon as enough repairs have been made to make it livable.”
She opened her mouth but shut it again without speaking. “Thank you. Is that everything you want to know?”
He had more information than he could easily digest. Some of the things he’d learned only left him with more questions. It was just dawning on him that she must blame him for having been relegated to working as a servant. And that his best friend had, for some mysterious reason, put her there—and left her there—for the past two years. And through it all, Seaton had never said a word to him!
He thought back to all the times he’d been caught by his friend mooning over the missing American girl. Seaton must have been laughing up his sleeve. It was humiliating. It was infuriating.
What if Josie hadn’t come into her inheritance? Had Seaton planned to leave her there forever after? Blackthorne needed to hear from his friend’s own mouth what had possessed him to divert the girl to Tearlach Castle in the first place.
But Seaton was missing. Along with Lark.
Blackthorne suddenly wasn’t as willing to discount his grandmother’s suspicion that Seaton and his sister might have eloped. If his friend could conceal such a terrible secret as his kidnapping of Josephine Wentworth, then what dastardly intrigue might he have planned for Blackthorne’s missing sister?
He needed to find his friend and demand answers, after he located his sister, of course. Or maybe one would lead him to the other.
Blackthorne felt sick to his stomach. Why had Seaton never said anything? What motive could he possibly have had for what he’d done? Blackthorne tamped down his growing rage. He would need all his faculties about him, when he finally confronted his friend.
JOSIE HAD SAT in utter silence beside her husband for the entire train ride to London, an oppressive hush which persisted as they began the brief coach ride from Paddington Station to his grandmother’s townhome. Blackthorne had given her a great deal of food for thought the previous evening. It seemed the duke was not quite the villain she’d presumed him to be, but rather a dupe of his friend, the Earl of Seaton. Although, it was still a mystery why Seaton had done what he had.
Even so
, she didn’t consider Blackthorne blameless. He’d made a promise to her, then delegated it to someone else, who’d proved unreliable. Furthermore, if he’d come even once to visit his nephews at Tearlach Castle, he would have discovered Seaton’s deception. She gave a small, rueful smile as she thought of the reasons Blackthorne believed she’d married him. Because he’d been kind. Because she felt obligated to him.
The primary emotion that had survived their encounter last night was relief that her husband still had no inkling of why she’d actually married him, or that she intended to take his nephews and flee to America.
She wondered why she was suddenly “fleeing” rather than merely “returning home.”
Because you’re starting to like the Dastardly Duke. You love what happens with him in bed. And you’re afraid that, if you don’t get away soon, you’ll never leave. He’s agreed to bring the boys to the Abbey when it’s repaired. You could stay in England and—
“Shut up!” Josie muttered to silence the treasonous voice in her head. She didn’t realize until Blackthorne’s head turned sharply in her direction, that she’d spoken the words aloud.
“Pardon me?”
Since her husband hadn’t said anything, the words obviously hadn’t been directed at him, but Josie nevertheless replied, “I wasn’t speaking to you.”
He glanced languidly around the otherwise empty carriage. “Then to whom were you speaking?”
She hesitated, then admitted, “I was having a conversation with myself. In my head,” she added unnecessarily.
“Ah. And doubtless did not like what you had to say.”
Josie bristled at his suggestion that he wouldn’t have liked what she had to say, either. “If you must know—” She cut herself off. “It’s no business of yours what I was thinking.”
“Your thoughts couldn’t be happy ones, if you spent the past night as sleepless as I did. Where would you have gone, if you were my sister?”
Josie was surprised at the change of subject, but she considered the idea seriously before saying, “She must have planned her escape, in order to disappear without her maid and without a soul knowing where she was going, including her twin.”
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