Until that moment, Everett had not even considered the possible ramifications of having an eligible girl living under his roof. Miss Carstairs was also single, but she was an employee, so didn't count in the eyes of society.
'I asked her to marry me, Digby, but she laughed and turned me down. It ended badly, and I'm staying away for a day or two in order to allow her to recover her temper. I intend to do my best to court her, but now she is to live elsewhere this is going to be more difficult.'
'You have every right to visit me when I move, your grace, and cannot help but see her when you do so. Also, she will want to see the children every day, will she not?'
'I hope so. Which reminds me, have you had any news about this uncle?'
'Not yet, your grace, but I assure you I will bring the information to you as soon as I get it. I've already lodged the necessary papers at the High Court, and your legal guardianship will be confirmed long before this person arrives to make a nuisance of himself. I'm sure I can pay him off – he only became interested after he discovered they were under your protection.'
'I'm damned if I will give him a penny. If he does appear, keep him away from the children at all costs. I don't wish any of them to be upset. I consider them as Hemingfords now. They are part of my family and a very welcome part at that.'
On the third day he rode over to the Dower House mid-morning to find the place in uproar. He dismounted and flung the reins to a waiting stableboy. He strode in to find the governess weeping in the drawing room. 'What is all the fuss about? Tell me at once, Miss Carstairs, what is going on here?'
'Thank God you're here, your grace, we cannot find Lydia or her maid anywhere. She has run away. She must have left in the middle of the night and we have no idea where she might have gone.'
His gut twisted and he swallowed bile. This was his fault – he had driven her away. The thought of the woman he loved to distraction wandering about somewhere without funds and with no gentleman to protect her filled him with horror.
'You are distressing the children with your fuss. I suggest you pull yourself together and set them a proper example. Have you spoken to any of the outside men?'
'I spoke to the head groom but he knows nothing about it.'
'Then I shall do so myself.' He turned to the crying children. 'There's no need to be upset, little ones, I shall bring your aunt home safe, I give you my word.'
It didn't take long to discover that Lydia had been taken to the coaching inn, the fact that the boy had not been required to return to collect them today filled him with dread. This was far worse than he had at first thought.
He dashed back inside and informed the governess he was going to London to find Lydia and fetch her home. Then he urged his horse into a flat gallop and was back in his apartment shouting for his valet to pack him an overnight bag within ten minutes of leaving the Dower House.
'I shall travel post – there's no need for you to accompany me. However, I wish the travelling carriage to set out for London as soon as I have left. It must go to Grosvenor Square. I shall take Miss Sinclair there when I find her.
'Have someone go immediately to the Dower House and have them pack a trunk for Miss Sinclair. Bring this with you.'
Whilst he had been giving his orders he had stripped and changed into something more elegant than his country attire. He had a second wardrobe at his town house so there was no necessity for him to take a bag with him.
He had a wallet full of flimsies and a velvet bag full of gold guineas – that would be more than enough for his expenses. His gig was waiting outside with Bates sitting on the box.
'I shall drive, we will get there quicker if I do. You can return with this vehicle at a more decorous pace.'
In a little over an hour from when he had first heard the dreadful news he was sitting in the back of a post-chaise racing towards London. He would have ample opportunity on the journey of two hours to think about his plan of action. He knew for a certainty that Lydia and her maid had boarded the stage at five and he knew exactly where they could disembark. However, if they were not going to Town, but getting off at one of the stops in between, he might well miss her.
In order to avoid this possibility he instructed the driver to enquire at every stop they made to change the team, if a young lady and her maid had got down there.
He was confident his quarry had not left the coach at any stage between the village and London itself.
He paid the exorbitant sum for his journey without a qualm – he would pay a hundred times more in order to recover his beloved.
He had no need to announce his pedigree, it was obvious that he was a gentleman of importance and therefore he received the attention and respect he was accustomed to.
The busy inn had already had several stagecoaches terminate there, but this was no obstacle to him. Everett found a willing assistant in a young groom and sent him around to make enquiries. The lad came back with the best news possible.
'Two young ladies fitting your description, my lord, ordered a hackney carriage to take them to Fulbright Street.'
He tossed the boy a coin and set off on foot. Lydia did not know the city as he did. The destination she had enquired about was no more than a mile away if you took a direct route. He could be there in less than half an hour.
*
'Here we are, there, this is where I must go first.'
Her maid viewed the entrance with suspicion. 'It doesn't look very grand, miss, are you sure this is the right place?'
'I am. I wish now I had made a firm appointment and was not just arriving on the day I stated in my letter of introduction. I did say I would be coming this morning, but I've no idea if the gentleman I wish to see, one Mr Jonathan Peabody, will actually be here or indeed, will wish to see me at all.'
She stiffened her spine and marched up the steps. Inside was as unprepossessing as the outside and she almost turned around and walked out. A shrivelled individual dressed in faded black was sitting behind a table. He didn't appear to have the energy to stand up, but almost managed it. 'Can I be of assistance, miss?'
'I have an appointment with Mr Peabody this morning. Kindly inform him that I am here.'
He shuffled off through a door behind him leaving her standing in the dusty vestibule regretting her decision with every minute that passed. Then the elderly gentleman returned.
'Mr Peabody is too busy to see you, miss, if you would care to leave your manuscript he will read it when he has a moment.'
This was almost a relief as Lydia was sure she didn't wish to be associated with anyone who worked in such dismal surroundings. She put down her parcel, undid the string and carefully opened it. She extracted one of the smaller bundles which contained the first two chapters to her next book and placed it on the counter. 'I shall leave this partial of my novel which should be sufficient for Mr Peabody to make up his mind. The details he requires in order to contact me are with it.'
She turned and swept out, not waiting for him to make any sort of response. There was no point in waiting half an hour to see if he did actually look at it as she was certain it would go in his wastepaper basket.
'Now, we can walk to our next destination as it is only a short distance from here according to the driver of the hackney carriage.' They set off briskly and the next publishers looked a much more interesting proposition.
The building was freshly painted, there was a brass plate on the wall announcing it was a publishing house, and when she asked Beth to knock on door it was opened immediately by a smiling and smart young man.
'Good morning to you, Miss Sinclair, Mr Dunwoody is expecting you.' They were ushered in and the interior was as pleasing as the exterior.
'Mr Dunwoody will see you in this chamber after he has had time to look at your manuscript. I shall have refreshments sent in to you, and there are several interesting journals to read whilst you wait.'
Lydia put the parcel on the polished sideboard and handed over her chapters with more enthusiasm
than she had done the previous time.
'These are the opening chapters for my next book, I believe that Mr Dunwoody might find it useful to have a shorter piece of my writing to look at initially.'
The young man nodded and smiled. 'Exactly so, Miss Sinclair. An excellent idea and one he will appreciate I'm sure. However, I should like to take the entire manuscript as well if you don't mind?'
With her precious book in his hands he dashed off. For the first time, she thought that perhaps this might be the start of her career as a published author. She could have posted the manuscript to him under a masculine pseudonym, but she had made the decision some time ago to pursue her career under her own name whatever the consequences.
There was no clock in the small antechamber and despite having been served with freshly brewed coffee and almond biscuits, the time dragged. Beth had happily settled herself in a corner and was perusing a copy of La Belle Assemblée whilst she paced anxiously.
Was it a good sign that he was taking so long to make a decision? Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a caged bird and the more time that passed the more anxious she became.
Then the door was flung open and a small round gentleman, with a florid complexion and a scarlet waistcoat, burst in. 'My dear Miss Sinclair I do apologise for keeping you waiting so long. I became so engrossed in your work that I had no idea of the time.'
'You like it?'
'Indeed I do. Would you care to come into my office so we can discuss business matters?'
There was no need to take her maid with her, it was far too late to worry about breaking any further rules. He stood aside and flapped his arms indicating she should go in front of him. His office was the other side of the vestibule and was tidy, clean and well appointed.
The young man pulled out a chair for her and she took it. Mr Dunwoody resumed his seat behind his desk. She didn't think she'd ever been so happy in her life. Her dream was about to come true and she would be in a position to support herself once the contract was signed.
Then she saw her complete manuscript on a side table. It was sitting there, apparently unopened, which was a puzzle. Even the slowest reader, one must assume that a publisher was not one of those people, could have read the two chapters in half the time that she had been kept waiting.
Her smile faded and her optimism drained away. The two chapters were on the desk but these looked as if they had been barely glanced at. What was going on here?
'Miss Sinclair, I would really like to publish your book. It is quite the most excellent story I have read in a long while. However, you must understand that as a debut author one cannot guarantee you will sell sufficient copies to cover the costs. Therefore, because I am so enthusiastic about your writing, I'm prepared to offer you a special deal.'
'You wish me to pay for the publication of my book myself?'
He beamed at her. 'That is exactly right, Miss Sinclair.'
'In which case, Mr Dunwoody, I thank you for your time and bid you good day. I'm not interested in an arrangement of that sort.'
With her precious papers safely returned to her she stalked out of the charlatan's office. Small wonder the place looked so prosperous – they made their money out of gullible authors desperate to see their work in print and prepared to pay whatever they were asked in order to do so.
'Beth, we have been duped and wasted most of the morning here. Please help me to tie my parcel up again. Our next destination is too far to walk so we must try and attract a hackney carriage.'
The parcel weighed heavily in her arms, it could not have changed its weight, but it certainly felt more cumbersome than it had when she set off in such high spirits so many hours ago.
'Never mind, miss, at least we had something nice to eat and drink.'
The third place that they visited refused even to allow them entry. She was turned away as if of no account and this infuriated her. The final office was a brisk twenty minutes' walk away and she used this time to recover her temper. She now had no expectation at all of finding her manuscript a home.
'I have no wish to go in myself this time. Just take the entire parcel and give it to someone. I no longer care whether anyone wishes to read it or not. We shall then find ourselves some overnight accommodation and go and see the sights.'
Her maid wasn't gone long. 'There was no one to hand it to, miss, so I left it on the desk. I'm ever so excited to be staying in a hotel tonight. Are we going to the one the driver mentioned?'
'We might as well as I have no knowledge of anywhere else. I'm sure we passed the building on our walk here so can retrace our steps easily enough.'
The hotel was clean and well run and had a small but delightful room available for the two of them. They were escorted up and hot water and clean towels were brought immediately.
'My, miss, this is grand. Let me sponge down your spencer. Then you will look as smart as you did when we set out at dawn this morning.'
*
Everett arrived at his destination but was confused as to why Lydia should wish to come here. The street was far from smart, full of rundown houses and offices, and there was nothing here he could see that could be of interest to her.
He could not help but be aware that he was attracting far too much attention. He had no idea where to go next or from whom he could make enquiries – then he spotted an urchin pushing a barrow and thought perhaps he might have seen something that could be of use to him.
'I saw two ladies, sir, one carrying a large parcel, the other a valise. They went into an office a few streets from here – but I ain't sure which one it was.' He tossed the boy a coin and set off swinging his cane as a warning to any ne'er-do-wells who might think to accost him for his wallet.
The next street was more prosperous and he walked along the pavement examining the polished brass plates outside to see if any one of them might be somewhere Lydia could have visited. What the hell she was doing in this part of the city he had no idea, but it didn't seem the actions of a young lady trying to escape from the clutches of an unwanted suitor.
What about this mysterious parcel she was carrying? He stopped, lost in thought and then something he had seen a few buildings back made everything fall into place. His darling girl was trying to find a publisher for her novel so that she could become financially independent.
He strode back to the building that had proclaimed to be the offices of Dunwoody & Ashworth, publishers of novels and poetry. It didn't take him long to discover she had left and the reason she had done so.
He had in his possession directions to three other possible publishing companies in the vicinity. After two unsuccessful forays, he marched into the final building.
'I wish to know if a Miss Sinclair has visited here today?'
His question caused the clerk, who was standing behind the desk, to leap into the air. 'Yes, sir, she was here earlier. Please, would you wait for a moment so that Mr Carberry may come and speak to you?'
A tall, spectacled young man emerged wringing his hands in his excitement. 'Miss Sinclair left her manuscript with me some time ago but did not remain to speak to me. I have been quite engrossed by her book and believe I can offer her a contract to publish. Romantic novels are popular with my readers, but there is much more to this particular one than that.'
'I am the Duke of Hemingford, she is my future wife, and she came to London without informing me and as you might imagine, Mr Carberry, I'm anxious to locate her.'
If he had expected the announcement of his name to impress the gentleman, he was disappointed. Carberry looked put out at this information.
'I take it you do not approve of her wish to become a published author. I'm not surprised that she came to see me without informing you, your grace. Am I to understand that you will refuse permission for her to have her work in the public domain where it belongs?'
Everett was about to agree when he said something else entirely. 'I have no objection to my future wife having her work published by you, Carberry. Howev
er, it must be under a pseudonym – I assume that is perfectly acceptable.'
The man was about to clap him on the shoulder but thought better of it. 'Perfectly understandable, your grace, as soon I have the name she wishes to be published under I can draw up the contract.'
Everett nodded and bounded back down the steps determined to find his beloved before she got herself into any further difficulties. She would have to find herself somewhere respectable to stay and there were several hotels in the area, but he was not prepared to go in and out of each making a cake of himself.
Lydia had had ample time to tidy up – but where would she go after that? He would try the Tower and the menagerie. This was the main attraction a visitor would head for upon coming to Town.
He hailed a passing hackney and gave him the instruction. When it rattled to a halt he jumped out and called up to the driver. 'Wait for me – I shall not be long.'
As he crossed the road he saw Lydia and her maid speaking to a red-coated Beefeater. He was at her side before she noticed his arrival.
'Lydia, my dear, I'm so glad I have caught up with you. Come, I have a carriage waiting to take to Grosvenor Square.'
For an awful moment, he thought she was going to refuse, to make a fuss in public, but she must have seen his expression change. Instead she nodded politely and placed her hand on his arm when he offered it.
He assisted her into the carriage and then turned and gave her maid a handful of coins. 'Return to wherever you have reserved a room, collect your mistress's belongings, and bring them to Grosvenor Square.'
The girl curtsied and cast a worried glance in Lydia's direction, she then stepped away allowing him to close the door.
'I don't wish to have any sort of conversation with you about your behaviour or mine in so public a place. We shall talk when we are somewhere more comfortable and private.'
Once inside the carriage she had removed her hand as if the touch had burnt her fingers. She was now squashed in the furthest corner from him and refused to look at him or respond to his remark.
The Reclusive Duke Page 15