Blackthorne's Bride

by Joan Johnston

  “That’s what worries me.” He added, “Along with the fact that Seaton is missing at the same time.”

  “You believe your best friend has something to do with your sister’s disappearance?”

  “He managed your disappearance.”

  “But I never saw him again after I left London,” she pointed out. “He doesn’t seem the sort of man to kidnap a female.”

  “Unless he eloped with my sister, as my grandmother suggested.”

  Josie thought back to her trip to the zoo, and her suspicion that Seaton was attracted to one of Blackthorne’s sisters, who also seemed to be attracted to him. “Have you noticed Seaton paying particular attention to her?”

  He shook his head. “None at all. And Seaton has more than once mentioned his aversion to the married state, which makes him an unlikely bridegroom.”

  “How does your sister feel about him? Maybe she’s the one seeking to put him in a compromising situation.”

  The duke’s eyes widened. Apparently, he hadn’t considered the possibility that his innocent sister could be engaged in such manipulative behavior.

  The carriage stopped, and Josie saw Blackthorne shoot a worried look at the front door of his grandmother’s townhome. She laid a hand on his arm in comfort, something she’d also done the previous evening without thinking.

  When Blackthorne had swept her up in his arms last night, she’d rested her head against his heavily beating heart and slid her arms trustingly around his neck. At the time, she hadn’t understood her willingness to offer comfort to a man she believed had wronged her so terribly.

  Later, in the wee hours of the morning, alone in her room with her feet tucked under her, safely away from any roving mice, she’d realized that she’d offered succor to Blackthorne to repay him for the succor he’d offered her—when she’d run to him, so terrified of the mouse in her bed. His lovemaking had been another rescue of sorts, a willingness on his part to hold her close and take away the fearful memories from her past.

  And then there was that incident in the stable loft. She’d known he wanted to make love to her, but she’d denied them both. She still wasn’t sure exactly why she’d run from him.

  Josie blushed at the memory of the very long, very deep kiss they’d shared while lying in the hay. She looked up to find her husband’s gaze focused on her rosy face.

  “I’d give a great deal to know what you’re thinking right now.”

  “Shouldn’t we go inside?” she countered, avoiding his suggestion that she bare her soul.

  He tapped on the side of the coach and a footman opened the door and let down the steps. The duke stepped out and reached up a hand to help her down. He pulled her close and slid her arm through his, as they headed up the stairs. Somehow she knew he needed her support again, for whatever they discovered inside, and she willingly gave it.

  The butler opened the front door before they reached it and stood back to let them in, announcing, “Her Grace is in the drawing room, Your Graces.”

  Josie felt herself tugged along as Blackthorne strode down the hall. A footman opened the drawing room door and closed it after they entered.

  The dowager duchess evidenced none of the unflappable dignity she’d possessed when Josie had met her two weeks ago. A strand of silvery hair had come loose at her temple and her once-fierce blue eyes looked haunted. She rose, leaning heavily on her cane, and reached out a shaking hand to her grandson.

  “It’s worse than I imagined,” the dowager duchess said.

  “What have you heard?” Blackthorne asked, releasing Josie and hurrying across the room to take his grandmother’s hand.

  Josie watched the old woman crumple into her grandson’s arms. Blackthorne held her close, his hand soothing its way down her rigid back.

  “Tell me all,” he said.

  “She left on the same train as Seaton,” his grandmother replied in a frail voice.

  “How do you know?”

  “I put a Bow Street runner to work, of course,” she said with asperity, raising her head to glare at him.

  Josie saw the smile appear on Blackthorne’s face at his grandmother’s spirited reply.

  “Very well, my dear,” he said. “Did the runner find out where they were bound?”

  “North,” the dowager said in a stark voice. “To Berwick-upon-Tweed.”

  “How is Lindsey?” Blackthorne asked. “I expected to find her here with you.”

  “She hasn’t come out of her room since she discovered her twin lied to her,” the dowager said.

  “Perhaps I should speak with her.”

  The dowager seemed torn. “I’m not sure that would be productive. Lindsey knows nothing to the point.”

  But she might need the sort of comfort an older brother could provide, Josie thought. “You should at least let your sister know you’ve come,” she said to the duke. “Maybe she’s remembered something that might help you in your search.”

  “I questioned her most straitly,” the dowager said. “If Lindsey knew anything, she would already have divulged it to me.”

  Josie looked Blackthorne in the eye. “If you were my brother, I would appreciate a hug and a word of support. Lindsey must be feeling guilty at not having somehow divined what her twin was planning.”

  “And you know this because…?” the duke said.

  “I have twin sisters of my own.”

  The duke’s eyes widened, but he quickly recovered and said to the dowager, “It won’t hurt to check on Lindsey, to make sure she’s all right.”

  He caught Josie’s hand on the way past and pulled her along behind him, as he headed up the stairs to the next floor. He hurried down a long hallway, until he reached a door near the end. He knocked on it and called out, “Lindsey? Are you in there?”

  “Marcus?”

  Josie heard the hopeful sound in Lindsey’s voice, and two feet hitting the floor and running to the door. It was pulled open and Lindsey threw herself into her brother’s arms, sobbing so pitifully that Josie thought her own heart would break.

  She met Blackthorne’s troubled gaze over his sister’s head and, since he already had his arms around Lindsey, hugging her tight, mouthed the words, “Say something.”

  “Everything will be all right, Lindsey. There’s no need for tears,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “How do you know that?” his sister accused, raising a tearstained face to glare at him. “Lark might have been ravished. She might be lying dead in a gutter. We might never see her again!”

  He took his sister firmly by the arms. “I thought you had more gumption than to fall to pieces like this. Imagine what Lark will say when she hears what a widgeon you’ve been.”

  “I don’t care what Lark thinks, since I never intend to speak to her again,” Lindsey shot back. “How could she, Marcus? Why would she lie to me? She’s my other half. We’ve never kept secrets before. Why now? Why was she so desperate to get away that she kept her plans a secret from me, her very own twin?”

  “I don’t know, dearest. We’ll have to ask her when she returns home.”

  “Will she be coming home? Have you discovered where she is?”

  “Not yet. But I promise you I’ll find her and bring her back. I’m certain there will be a good explanation for her bizarre behavior, and I have no doubt she’ll beg your pardon.”

  Josie watched the duke pull a handkerchief from his pocket and dab at the tears on his sister’s cheeks.

  “Go wash your face, and then join Grandmama downstairs. She could use your company.”

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. If I feel this guilty, I can only imagine how badly grandmother is taking Lark’s disappearance.”

  “Do you have something to be guilty about?” Blackthorne asked. “Is there something you know that you haven’t yet told Grandmama?”

  Lark kept her eyes lowered as she admitted, “Lark asked me not to say anything to Grandmama about her invitation from the Courts until all the wedding guests were gone. I realize n
ow she didn’t want Grandmama to be able to question Mrs. Court about the invitation and discover it didn’t exist.

  “I believed Lark when she told me she’d agreed to meet the Courts at the station to catch the train to Berwick-upon-Tweed, because she’d never lied to me before.”

  “Why do you think she lied to you this time?”

  “I don’t know!” Lindsey said in an agonized voice.

  “Have you ever seen Lark alone in company with Seaton?” Blackthorne asked.

  Lindsey blotted at the last of the tears on her face, which was scrunched up in thought. “Seaton? No.”

  “Has she ever evidenced a preference for him?”

  Lindsey shook her head, looking confused. “She would have said something to me, if she had a tendre for him.”

  “Would she?” Josie interjected.

  Both Whartons turned on her, Blackthorne with a black brow arched in question and Lindsey with both black brows arrowed down.

  “Are you suggesting—” Lindsey began.

  “I’m only saying that affairs of the heart are usually conducted in private—even between twins,” Josie interrupted. “At least, that was my experience with my twin sisters, Hannah and Henrietta.”

  “Your twin sisters kept secrets from each other?”

  “They were closer than two peas in a pod for their entire lives—before they began their courtships. But when my sister Hannah married, she told Hetty nothing of her experiences with Mr. McMurtry. And when Hetty fell in love, she refused to share her feelings with Hannah.”

  Josie realized she was stretching the truth a bit to suggest that Hannah had been courted by Mr. McMurtry. She’d found her husband by answering an advertisement in the Chicago Herald for a mail-order bride. And Hetty had been so resentful of Hannah’s interference in her love life, that she’d ignored her sister’s admonitions, and ended up causing two jealous men to kill each other over her. But Josie could honestly say that, before they’d allowed a man—or two—into their lives, her twin sisters had been as thick as thieves.

  Precisely because Lindsey had been kept in the dark by her twin, Josie would have wagered every penny she had left of her inheritance that Lark’s adventure involved a romance with some gentleman. And because of how closely Lark was watched, that gentleman was most likely someone in whose company she often found herself, like Blackthorne’s best friend, the Earl of Seaton.

  A maid arrived in the hallway and said to Josie, “You have a visitor, Your Grace.”

  “Me?” Josie didn’t have a single friend in London and couldn’t imagine anyone calling on her, especially at the dowager duchess’s home. “Who is it?”

  “He won’t give his name. The gentleman just says you should come at once.”

  Blackthorne turned to his sister and said, “Dry your tears and come downstairs. We’ll see you shortly.”

  Then he took Josie’s hand possessively in his and started down the hall. “I suppose we’d better see who’s come to visit you.”

  “MR. THOMPSON? WHAT are you doing here?” Josie exclaimed.

  “You know this man?” Blackthorne said.

  Josie was so surprised, she answered with the truth. “Yes. He’s a Pinkerton detective.” She clasped her hands together to stop their trembling and asked, “Has something happened to Spencer and Clay? Was it scarlet fever, and not measles after all?”

  “It was measles,” Mr. Thompson replied. “And the Lords Spencer and Clay are recovering apace.”

  Josie put a hand out to steady herself, and it landed on Blackthorne’s sleeve. “Oh, thank goodness!”

  He pulled his arm free, as though she were some foul thing, and said in an icy voice, “You hired a Pinkerton to spy on my nephews?”

  “No. Yes. Not really,” Josie stuttered, seeing a look on her husband’s face that did nothing to help the state of her quivering knees.

  “Which is it?”

  Josie realized she was in deep water and wasn’t sure she could swim back to shore on her own. She shot a discomfited look at the Pinkerton, who stood waiting patiently in his long black duster, his black bowler hat in hand.

  To her relief, Mr. Thompson turned to the duke and said, “I’m aware of your current dilemma, Your Grace. I came because I have information that might be of help.”

  “Who are you?” Blackthorne demanded.

  “As your wife said, I’m a Pinkerton detective. I was hired by Miss Wentworth’s—excuse me, the duchess’s—sister Miranda, that is, Mrs. Jacob Creed.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To locate Miss Wentworth, advise her of her inheritance, and make arrangements for her safe return to America,” the Pinkerton replied.

  “You seem to have failed in your objective,” the duke pointed out. “Miss Wentworth—the duchess—is still in England.”

  The Pinkerton’s mouth twisted wryly. “That is true, Your Grace.”

  The duke’s eyes narrowed perceptively. “But you’re still here. Why?”

  Josie was afraid the Pinkerton would reveal her plan to abscond—now she was stealing them?—with the boys, so she said, “I care dearly for your nephews and wanted to be sure someone was looking after them, once I left Tearlach Castle.”

  “My nephews, who have both a governess and a housekeeper to look after them?”

  Josie bit her lip to stop any further explanation of her behavior.

  Blackthorne eyed her speculatively, and she knew he was remembering her probing questions at the Abbey about his nephews, her desire to bring them to the Abbey to live, and her original pretense that they were strangers.

  She lifted her chin and said, “I asked Mr. Thompson to keep an eye on Spencer and Clay to make sure they were doing well, until they could join us at the Abbey.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be doing well?”

  Josie hadn’t expected the question, and she wasn’t sure how much she should say about the two boys being caught up in the ongoing feud between his housekeeper and the children’s governess. “No reason,” she said, deciding discretion was important if it became necessary, as it still might, to make her escape with the children. She wasn’t happy with that choice of words, either. Escape? From what, pray tell?

  She forced her thoughts back to the necessity for some sort of answer the duke would accept. “Mr. Thompson has been able to reassure me that Spencer and Clay are fine.”

  “Except for having the measles,” Blackthorne said, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Yes. Except for that,” Josie said lamely. “And they should be over them very soon, if they aren’t already.”

  “How did you get here so quickly from Northumberland?” Blackthorne inquired of the Pinkerton.

  “I’ve been in London taking care of business,” the Pinkerton explained. “I have an associate in Northumberland watching over your nephews.” His lips twisted wryly as he said, “A Pinkerton never sleeps.” He cleared his throat when Blackthorne scowled and continued, “Which is how I came to discover the whereabouts of your sister Lady Lark Wharton.”

  Blackthorne clamped a strong hand on the Pinkerton’s shoulder, his face grim. “Where is she? What’s happened to her?”

  “According to my man, she’s staying at an inn called the Black Swan in Berwick-upon-Tweed.” He hesitated and added, “As the wife of the Earl of Seaton.”

  Blackthorne’s shoulders bunched. “Are they married?”

  “Not unless they were married before they left London,” the Pinkerton replied. “According to my associate, they registered at the Black Swan late last night as man and wife—without a trip to Scotland beforehand. I could make inquiries, if you like.”

  “Damn and blast,” Blackthorne muttered, his hands knotting into dangerous fists. “I’ll kill him.” He focused his gaze on the Pinkerton and said, “How soon can you arrange for your man to find her a chaperon and escort her back to London?”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible for some time.”

  “Why not?”

 
“Your sister has contracted the measles.”

  “Oh, dear,” Josie said.

  “Who’s taking care of her?” Blackthorne asked.

  “A doctor has seen her, Your Grace. But she is apparently being nursed in the bridal suite at the Black Swan by the earl himself.”

  Blackthorne’s lips compressed to a very thin, very angry line. “I suppose I shall have to go and fetch her myself.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Josie said, adding, “She’ll need someone to be with her, once Seaton has been sent on his way. And I’ve already had the measles.”

  The duke opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut again. “Very well.”

  “There is a train to Berwick-upon-Tweed leaving this afternoon, Your Grace,” the Pinkerton said.

  “Go fetch whatever you require for the journey,” Blackthorne said to Josie, “while I apprise my grandmother of the situation.”

  “Don’t you think we should wait until we have a chance to see whether your sister and Seaton are married? Or not?” Josie asked.

  Blackthorne’s face looked grim. “If they aren’t, they will be soon. Go! Get what you need. We don’t have much time to catch the train.”

  Once Blackthorne was out of hearing, Josie turned to the Pinkerton and said, “Thank you for not revealing my plans.”

  “What plans are those, Your Grace?”

  Josie realized suddenly that she’d never spoken directly to the Pinkerton about her desire to rescue the boys—who were now her nephews-by-marriage—from the clutches of the Dastardly Duke and take them to America. But she would never have a better chance to steal them—that word again!—and disappear than she would while Blackthorne was distracted taking care of his sister and dealing with Seaton. Presuming she still wanted to leave her husband, something she wasn’t at all sure of anymore.

  Blackthorne had seemed willing to bring his nephews to live at the Abbey when the renovations were completed, but she still had no satisfactory answer for why he’d abandoned them for two long years. The safer course was to take the boys with her when she left.