“Liam, I didn’t even realize you had a tendre for Miss Carson,” said Ned.
Lizzie snorted. “How were you ever a successful spy in the war when you couldn’t pick up on something as obvious as that? They’ve been besotted with each other for ages. It was all I could do not to speak up and force their hands.”
Now it was Ned’s turn to snort. “I cannot believe you didn’t. When was the last time you showed any restraint, especially when it came to matchmaking?”
“I do not know if you have been paying attention, Ned, but I am quite the lady now and am behaving in a manner wholly appropriate to my role as the Marchioness of Riverton. Isn’t that right, Marcus?”
“Yes, my love.”
His assent was greeted with rolled eyes by Ned.
Arthur added, “As if Riverton would ever disagree with you. Talk about being a besotted fool.” Then he kissed Vanessa’s hand and pulled her closer to him.
“Besides,” continued Lizzie, ignoring her brothers, “how was I to know Liam would botch things so terribly, first by letting Fallmoor steal her away, then, immeasurably worse, by letting her stay stolen?”
“My honor was at stake,” Liam said, all but barking at Lizzie. Riverton took a step closer to his wife. “Hang it, Marcus, you know I would never hurt Lizzie. It’s just….I’ve been a fool and now I am afraid it has cost me the woman I love.”
Everyone was silent. To hear the great Duke of Lynwood admit his need for another, his love for a woman, was, to say the least, an unprecedented experience.
Stapleton cleared his throat. “Liam, after receiving your note tonight, I went to Bow Street. It turns out Worthington did hire a Runner a little more than a week ago to track down Miss Carson.”
“Who was it?”
“A man named Grant Loudin, who grew up in the stews. He is eager to prove himself and is known for cutting corners. He will do anything to accomplish his mission. I am sorry to tell you he’s mean and, I suspect, dishonest. Had it been up to me, I would have dismissed him long ago. After searching London for three days, he left town to continue looking. He told no one where he was going, other than he was being well paid to do it. If it is any consolation, I believe he’ll find Miss Carson, but…”
“But what?” asked Liam.
“But I believe he will bring her back by force if he has to. I’m sorry. If there was a way to reach him, I would call him back.”
“I want to hire you. I’ll pay any price to find her.”
“You’ll not pay me, Liam, but I will find your Miss Carson. Lady Riverton, is it possible she could have left for America on one of your ships?”
Lizzie had recently purchased two ships to help Melanie in her venture to send former prostitutes to America to start new lives.
She shook her head. “The most recent departure was two weeks ago and I saw Rosalind shortly thereafter.”
“But she could have booked passage on another ship under an assumed name,” said Vanessa.
“It is certainly possible,” said Stapleton, “but if Loudin left the city to travel by land, he only would have done so after finding no evidence of her leaving by ship. If there is one good thing to say about the man, it’s that he is thorough. I will, of course, send agents to make inquiries, but I believe my best course of action will be to track Loudin.”
“Vanessa and I will use our network at the Home Office to find her,” said Arthur. “We have informants throughout the country. Lizzie, does she have any family or friends she might have gone to for help?”
“No. And any relations would only send her back home. Why didn’t she let me help her? I would have done anything for her.”
“Shh, my love,” said Marcus as he pulled her into his arms. “We will find her. Stapleton is better at his job than anyone else. Arthur and Vanessa will use their informants to scour the countryside, I shall have my solicitors look into Worthington’s holdings to see if there are any clues and Lynwood is Lynwood. If anyone can bring her home safely it is he.”
All eyes turned to the duke. No one could doubt his power or resolve.
But everyone feared what would happen if he didn’t succeed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Four weeks later in the beginning of December, Kibworth, Leicestershire
Dawn was just beginning to break and Rosalind was huddled under her quilt, willing herself to run across the room and start a fire in the hearth. While she still could not believe her good fortune in having her own cottage, she sorely missed the luxury of having a servant start the fire each day. Yet, she knew she would rather do for herself for the rest of her life than live as Fallmoor’s duchess for even a moment.
That dreadful thought gave her the courage she needed to bolt from the bed and run to the hearth, where she’d neatly laid everything out the night before, having learned from experience that anything requiring skill and coordination was not best attempted prior to the first coffee of the day.
After getting a spark with her tinder, she wrapped herself in a blanket and sat in the room’s one chair, waiting for the fire to take the chill out of the air. She’d also learned from experience that going back to bed while waiting for the room to warm usually resulted in her sleeping way past the time she should have been up.
She often marveled at how different her circumstances were now rather than six weeks earlier when she’d taken the momentous step to leave home. The first several days had been the most frightening in her life, because she feared her mother and Cal would send someone after her. She was well aware of the money they’d accepted from Fallmoor for her hand. They wouldn’t part with it easily. She suspected much had already been spent and she doubted Fallmoor was the sort to simply forgive the debt. They had to send someone after her or face financial ruin. While part of her felt sorry for them, she’d realized she would never be happy as Fallmoor’s duchess and had never been given a choice in the matter. For once, she was putting her own needs first.
She’d struggled with the decision for weeks before concluding she couldn’t enter into the marriage they’d arranged. Marriage was supposed to be sacred. But what they’d agreed to on her behalf was nothing more than a business transaction. She refused to go along with it.
Truth be told, there had been another reason she’d wanted to leave, though it hurt now to even think of it. She couldn’t face Liam – the Duke of Lynwood, she corrected herself, for nothing good could come from thinking of him as Liam – after her wanton behavior and his subsequent rejection of her. And once he took a wife, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. It was much better this way.
She’d been planning her escape for quite some time in part because she couldn’t decide where to go. A part of her had wanted to leave for America, specifically Philadelphia. Hal’s wife had two friends there who helped fallen women from England. She might have found work helping them, except she couldn’t place Hal or any of the Kellingtons in the awkward position of helping her evade her family.
Wherever she went, she knew she would have to seek employment. But unlike just about any other lady of the ton, Rosalind had no aversion to the idea of work. In fact, she quite looked forward to the challenge of it, even if it was a necessity. At four and twenty, she was not yet in possession of the modest income her father had set aside for her in an irrevocable trust. Until her birthday in nine and a half months, she would have to find a way to support herself.
There were few professions suitable for gently bred ladies, particularly if they had to keep their identities a secret. That precluded her from getting work as a governess or a companion. She had decided to put her love of learning to use by trying to secure a teaching position. She had heard there were convent schools in Scotland that would hire young ladies as teachers. She hoped one of those schools would understand her need for secrecy. It was a risk since the journey to Scotland would take almost all of the money she’d saved, but she believed it was truly her best hope. If not the only one.
But she had not foreseen the events of th
e 10th of November. The mail coach she’d been a passenger on had broken down in Harborough in Leicestershire. By the time repairs were completed late that afternoon, space was at a premium. The sons of two of the local gentry demanded seats, which meant others had to forfeit theirs to accommodate them. After no one volunteered, the driver selected a young man not fourteen years of age and his seven-year-old sister. When Rosalind told the driver she would give up her seat so the two children could stay, the driver refused her offer, saying it would be too uncomfortable for the two men to squish together and what did it matter when the boy and his sister were naught but farmer’s children.
Rosalind did not care for that answer in the least.
Rosalind argued that their father’s position in society made not a whit of difference and if the driver had any decency he would allow them to remain. Apparently, the man had none because he still kicked the two children off, along with Rosalind. She then found herself in the middle of Leicestershire without a ride and very few coins to tide her over until the next mail coach in a week’s time.
But at least she was an adult. The two children had none but each other to depend upon. The boy had valiantly kept his sister close as he’d asked the driver to allow them to remain. Now that they were abandoned in the small village, he held her hand.
The little girl had bright red, curly hair, barely contained in two braids. She had big blue eyes that were now focused on her brother. The boy also had red hair, although it wasn’t quite the carrot shade of his sister’s. He had the somewhat gangly look of a boy growing into a lanky young man.
The little girl looked up at him. “Tommy, how will we get home?” She was trying hard not to cry, but her lip quivered.
Tommy knelt down in front of her. “Don’t you worry none. We’ll find a way.” He turned to Rosalind. “Thank you for what you done for us, ma’am. I’m sorry the blighter kicked you off, too.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Rosalind with a smile for the children even though she was feeling far from sanguine. The day was growing late and it would soon be dark. “Where is your home?”
Daisy proudly told her it was the village of Kibworth. When Rosalind asked how far away it was, the boy told her he thought it was twelve miles distant.
“But surely you cannot walk that far!” said Rosalind.
“It will be no problem for me, ma’am,” the boy said. “I’ll be fourteen in three months. But Daisy…” Here he looked at his sister, who had given chase to a nearby cat. “Well, I expect we won’t travel too fast. But you needn’t worry. Father entrusted me with her safety and I’ll not let him down.”
“I am sure you won’t,” said Rosalind, not wanting to offer insult to the boy’s resolve, though she dearly worried about both of the children. She had a feeling he was too proud to take her charity, but she could not in good conscience abandon them. Suddenly, she realized how he might accept her help. “But I was wondering, well, if you would offer escort to me.”
“To you, ma’am?”
“Yes. My name is…” here she hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to the children, but she also had no wish to leave a trail should Calvin send someone after her. “My name is Miss Rose Williams.”
“Thomas Mills, miss,” said Tommy, tugging at his forelock.
“I’m Daisy Mills, miss,” said his sister, temporarily abandoning the cat and wobbling into a curtsey. “You and me are named for flowers.”
“And I believe we shall be fine friends because of it.” Rosalind couldn’t help but be charmed by the little girl and her devoted brother. “Now, with dark setting in, I believe we should find shelter and dinner.”
Here, Tommy grew red in the face, as he shifted nervously. “Perhaps we’d best leave you to that, miss.”
It didn’t take Rosalind long to deduce the situation. While both of the children were clean and warmly dressed, they probably didn’t have the coins for a room at an inn. Truth be told, she didn’t, either. But she wasn’t about to let the children sleep outside in the cold.
“I would like to invite you to be my guest at the inn,” she said.
The boy was surprised, the girl quite hopeful. He spoke first. “We can’t take your charity, miss, but thank you just the same.”
“It would not be charity, Thomas,” said Rosalind. “It would be scandalous for a lady to check into an inn on her own. So you would be doing me a kindness by accompanying me. I am afraid we shall have to share a room, but it is only for the one night.”
“Please, Tommy,” said Daisy, bouncing up and down with excitement. “It’s getting dark and I’m cold.”
It was obvious Tommy could not deny his sister, so he reluctantly agreed to the proposal, then gallantly escorted Rosalind and his sister into the inn. It was a small, ramshackle establishment. A few locals were in the tap, and the innkeeper was eager enough to show Rosalind, Tommy and Daisy to a room. It was small, but relatively clean. The bed was big enough for Rosalind and Daisy, with Tommy taking a cot on the floor.
Rosalind soon learned a great deal about her companions, courtesy of Daisy. They were the children of Gabriel Mills, who lived on the finest farm in Kibworth. They were returning from a trip to see their grandparents where they’d had a fine holiday, but the visit had had to be cut short. Daisy had wanted their father to join them, but he’d had to stay on the farm to attend to their sheep. While Daisy loved animals of all kinds and had named all of their sheep, it was evident by the way the girl wrinkled her nose that she’d wished her father could have joined them on the journey.
Tommy unwrapped a bit of bread and hard cheese they’d been given for the trip by their grandparents and insisted that Rosalind join them in their meal as Daisy continued her travelogue.
“They had three dogs, four horses and too many chickens to count. They said I looked just like my mother, but I can’t remember if I do. I hope so.”
“Our mother passed on four years ago,” said Tommy, as he cleared his throat then turned away to attend to his cot.
“Your mother must have been a beautiful lady,” said Rosalind, as she squeezed Daisy’s hand. The little girl sniffled then crawled onto Rosalind’s lap. As the three sat in silence for a moment, Rosalind had everything to do to keep from crying herself as she held Daisy. All her life she’d longed to be a mother, but thought it would never happen, since her chances of marrying had been so slim. It was ironic, then, that a marriage to Fallmoor would have offered her the chance to be one. Indeed, the entire reason for marrying him would have been for him to get an heir off her. But she couldn’t bear to think of raising a child in those circumstances. He ignored the daughters he already had and didn’t acknowledge his illegitimate sons. He was a leering old man, who, she had heard, had gotten more than one maid with child, then dismissed them. It was said that while all of his legitimate children were female, every one of his illegitimate ones were male.
It was one of life’s more delicious ironies.
But as Daisy sat on Rosalind’s lap and told her about their adventures at their grandparents’ home, Rosalind felt a terrible ache in her heart. A foolish one, she knew. For a brief time, she’d allowed herself to think she might have a future with Liam. And that one day she might have his child on her lap.
“Are you all right, miss?” Daisy asked.
Rosalind quickly wiped away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “Just something in my eye, dear.”
“Will you tell us a story, miss?” asked Daisy. “Father always tells us a story before bed.”
“I’m too old for stories,” said her brother.
“But you always listen, anyway,” retorted his sister.
Rosalind smiled. “I shall tell you one as soon as you wash up and get ready for bed. And Thomas can decide whether or not he will listen in.”
Daisy went about her ablutions with such enthusiasm that Rosalind prayed she would have a good enough story as a reward.
“She likes you,” Tommy told Rosalind softly. “At home, it’s just f
ather and cook and Martha who comes to do for us twice a week. Daisy hasn’t spent much time with a female before.”
Rosalind studied the boy who had already had so much sorrow in his young life. “I am sorry about your mother, Thomas.” While her own mother had paid her little mind while she was growing up, she couldn’t imagine not having one at all – especially at such a tender age.
The boy nodded. “Thank you. I miss her, I do, but it’s been hardest on father.”
“It is a terrible thing to lose someone you love,” said Rosalind.
The boy nodded, then laughed at his sister, who seemed to have gotten more water on the floor than on her. “Well, I guess I’d best get ready, as well. Wouldn’t want to deprive Daisy of a story.”
Later, Rosalind told them the best story she could think of, which wasn’t very good. But she was mindful enough to put several animals into it, which kept Daisy entertained well past bed time.
When it was finally time to blow out the candle, Rosalind lay in bed and listened to the even breathing of both children. She was glad to have met them, even if the acquaintance would be of short duration. She was building a life for herself and if they were any indication of the people she would meet, it might not be so bad after all.
The next morning, the three of them set off early. It would be a long day’s walk and she wondered if they could even make the trip in one day, given young Daisy’s short legs. Her brother carried her a good part of the way, but even he had his limitations. He was a growing boy and was no doubt hungry, despite the meals Rosalind had purchased before they set off.
She was now growing more and more worried about stretching her funds to last all the way to Scotland. But if she hadn’t given in to hopelessness during the weeks of her betrothal, she certainly wouldn’t do so now. Best to keep her mind off her worries. “What is your village like?” she asked the children.
“It’s the best place in England,” said Tommy with a broad grin. “Father has the largest farm in the village and everyone comes to him for help and there are six and thirty families. The earl is the magistrate, but father settles most of the arguments and disputes that come up. Everyone knows him.”
Never Deny Your Heart (Kellington Book Five) Page 4