She shrugged. “She’d go down and let him in through the tradesmen’s entrance.”
“No one heard the footsteps?”
“Miss Redcake wouldn’t. She’s over the front of the house. Mrs. Miller sleeps like a hibernatin’ bear. You can hear her snoring.”
Ewan struggled to understand how this information could help them at all, other than to show how utterly immoral the nanny was, and to make it all the more obvious that her lover would have known about the Redcakes’ wealth. He would have seen the art, furnishings, and fixtures, known he could bite deep for ransom money. “Thank you, Daisy. I appreciate your telling me.”
The girl nodded. “Everyone is in the breakfast room.”
He took off his coat and hat and went upstairs to a room in the back of the house, overlooking the garden, where the food was sent up by dumbwaiter.
When he reached the door of the room he hesitated, looking at the tableau before him. Picture of a family in distress. Everyone was assembled. Possibly they had planned a regrouping, a family meeting. Matilda’s hand trembled as she lifted her teacup. His poor darling. Whether from traumatic stress or the aftereffect of the ether he did not know, but she did not look well. Her skin was so pale that her freckles stood out like they’d been pasted on, beauty marks on lead-painted skin. Sir Bartley’s skin looked almost gray, and he could see the skull underneath Lady Redcake’s drawn face. The younger Redcakes and their spouses did not look much better.
How he wanted a seat at the table, to be welcomed as an equal in their pain. His hand went involuntarily to his coat, where the special license was contained in a pocket. He had hovered on the periphery of this family for six years, watching marriages, births, knighthoods. From the outside, it had appeared that everyone in the family went from strength to strength; everyone but Matilda, that was. Even asthmatic, fragile Rose had found her happy ending in Rupert Courtnay. But Matilda had only had a miserable excuse for a man, Theodore Bliven, and her bastard child.
Now, all that was left was as it had been at the beginning. She had her family, who had never deserted her. He, who had been deserted by his parents by misfortune, had no one to love him, wanted a part of this Redcake bond, this family, who had held close even their most imperfect member.
He wanted Matilda, and he wanted her family, for his own.
Rose glanced up and gave him a shy, welcoming smile. It hovered on her lips for a moment, then disappeared, as if she had just remembered the occasion. Gawain looked up next and gave him a cool nod, and pointed to a chair next to Sir Bartley.
Ewan figured this was the closest to a welcome he was likely to get and took the spot.
Dash, the boot boy, who seemed to have been promoted to footman, passed him a plate of the remnants of the hot plates and poured tea. Ewan had already eaten, but he took what was offered, thinking he might be spending a long day outdoors and would be grateful for the hot food.
“How is your arm?” Matilda asked. Her voice sounded hollow, as if some of her spirit had departed.
Still, he was touched that she even realized he’d been hurt on her behalf. “I don’t notice it much,” he lied. He made a mental note to procure a bottle to numb himself before attempting to sleep that night.
“You are holding it strangely,” she observed. “I wish you hadn’t been hurt.”
“My first attempt to be a man of action did not end so well,” he admitted, forking up a sausage. “I am so sorry I let them take you.”
Her expression was tender, but Gawain interjected before she could speak. “They had knives and guns. If we’d known that, we might have brought an army.” He dropped his crust of toast onto his plate.
Ewan could understand the ex-soldier’s disgust. “Cutthroats and tumblers; what a strange assortment of villains.”
Matilda stared at her plate. “At least they aren’t murderers, not yet. What will happen next? Will another ransom note come soon, or will they let us stew for a while?” She glanced up, her gaze inquiring of her father.
His plate of hot food suddenly looked greasy and unappetizing. “Miss Redcake, could I have a word while your family sorts out their thoughts on the events of yesterday?”
She turned to him. “Of course, Mr. Hales.”
They both rose. She led him out of the room, then upstairs. When they walked into a large room, he recognized it as the nursery.
“I spend as much time here as possible,” Matilda said.
“I can’t blame you. It must make you feel close to your son.”
She twisted her hands into her skirt. A serviceable garment, though well cut and of good fabric. Gray was not her color, however. She should wear green to offset her beautiful hair. “What did you want to say to me that my family couldn’t hear? Something you observed last night? Some clue?” She glanced up, capturing him in her nut-brown eyes.
Instead of responding, he pulled the special license from his pocket and handed it to her. “As I stood in the doorway, I only knew one thing, Matilda. That I wanted a seat at that table, the privilege of sharing your sorrow, your hope. Please, will you marry me, so that I can be at your side through this, whatever the outcome might be?”
Chapter Thirteen
Matilda stared at Ewan, then slowly sank into the nursery’s rocking chair. He watched the emotions flash across her face. Incredulity, shock, anger. Was it wishful thinking that he thought he saw a moment of longing? But then, her lips firmed, and the skin around her eyes tightened.
“You could not have suggested this at a more inappropriate time. You know I’m to wed Mr. Bliven.”
He lifted the paper so she could see it. “If you had truly meant to, you’d have done it by now. I’ve had the special license changed. It’s in our names now, yours and mine. Please, let me be a part of this as your affianced husband.”
“You said you could not wed me.” Her voice was calm, but she was twisting her hands together, betraying her unease.
“That was before we made love.”
“You were not a virgin any more than I was.” Her lips trembled.
He reached for her, ashamed that he’d forced her to say that, but she turned away. “Matilda.”
“You do not have permission to call me that.”
“I don’t need to, not after all this. Your family is in favor, at least those who know I wish to wed you.”
“They’d be happy if I married Mr. Bliven. Or anyone, even poor old Ralph Popham at the bakery.”
He changed tactics. “As a future earl, I have a great deal to offer you.”
Her fingers went white as she pressed them against her ribs. “I don’t need some flower of aristocracy to make my life complete.”
“I know. You just need Jacob. And believe me, if I could find him, I would. I risked my life for you last night, and I would do it again. Doesn’t that prove anything?”
He could see tears in her eyes, like rain on glass. “It tells me that you’re a fool. I don’t care if I survive this, if Jacob does not.”
“He will survive.” This time, when he reached for her hand, soothing the mistreated digits, she didn’t stop him. “He will, Matilda. You have to believe that. We all do.”
“It’s so hard to keep believing.” Her voice broke before she righted it. “Even after I saw him just last night. He didn’t smell the same, you know, not like our soap, our house. Yet I could still smell his skin, his hair.”
“They couldn’t have fooled you? Low light? A child the same size?”
“No, it was Jacob.” She forced a smile. “I held him, I heard his voice. He knew me, screamed when they pulled him away. I know it was him.”
“Good.” He smiled back. “It’s confirmed that he’s alive. We just need to grab him next time. Not be distracted by their sophisticated techniques.”
She nodded.
“I have the sense that there are too many people with strong opinions and not enough is getting done,” he told her. “If I am going to marry you, that gives us the primary voice. M
aybe we can accomplish more.”
“Gawain is going to call Dougal Alexander in,” Matilda said. “He’ll be in charge then.”
Ewan had only met the man once and hadn’t liked him or his superior attitude. Another sprig of the aristocracy. “Please say you’ll marry me. I know I don’t have the polish to do this the right way, nor even to be a good earl, not right now, but we’ll muddle through. I promise. Say you’ll agree to be my wife?”
She pulled her hand away as the door opened. Gawain poked his head in. “Dougal will be here this afternoon. He’s suggesting, before the rain begins again, that you try to figure out where they took you. Do you want to go on foot or by carriage?”
Matilda looked blank for a moment before rallying. “I was inside the coach. I couldn’t hear a thing.”
“You must have a general sense of how long you were in it, what turns you took.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Then we need a carriage. I’ll try anything.”
“Good girl,” Gawain said. “I’ll have the brougham brought around, so you have that sense of enclosure.”
“I had a heavy coat over my head,” she said.
“You can use mine,” Ewan offered.
“No, it smelled really bad.” She forced a smile. “You’re much too much the dandy to have a foul-smelling coat.”
“Why did it smell so foul?” Gawain tilted his head.
She blinked. “Sweat, of course. Gin, I think. Some heavy tobacco. Turkish?”
“None of that is anything out of the ordinary,” Ewan said. Gawain nodded at him.
Matilda squinted. “Manure. I think it had manure on it.”
Gawain sighed. “Not of any use, then. Probably got manure on it when they harnessed the horses to the coach.”
“Sorry.”
“Should we put manure on the coat?” Gawain asked.
“No,” Matilda said severely. “Let’s not be that perfectionistic about this. I don’t want to be sick.”
“At least it shows how much you really do remember,” Ewan offered.
She nodded slowly. “I know this area very well. I think, once we were out of the square, we went straight for a long way, right out of Clifton. And then we did go over a bridge. There is no way to mistake that.”
“Excellent.” Gawain rubbed his hands together. “I’ll just get the carriage, then, and off we go.”
Matilda let Ewan hold her hand as she lay under the coat in the brougham. Gawain sat up front with the coachman as they drove southwest, then more directly south.
“Yes, I remember this,” Matilda said. “All these twists and turns made me feel quite ill. Then the bridge.”
“After that?” Ewan asked.
“It felt like we were going back the way we came. I did wonder if we were traveling in circles, but now that I remember the bridge it’s obvious we didn’t.”
“So, northeast then, you think?”
“Must be.”
The coach drove into Southville. As they went past warehouses, the light began to dawn on Ewan.
“Men shouting,” Matilda said. “I remember men shouting. Oh, it seemed like the drive took forever.”
“About what point in the journey did you go over the river?”
Her voice was muffled by the coat. “Halfway, maybe? I have no real idea.”
Ewan leaned to the window to speak to the coachman. “We want about the same amount of distance northeast from the bridge.”
“That’s less than three miles from home,” Gawain said. “Not a very long trip.”
“She was disoriented by the stench, soaked to the bone from the rain,” Ewan said. “Besides, the Douglas Flour warehouse is near here.”
Gawain turned as fully as the seat allowed. “But Jacob can’t be at a warehouse. Matilda was in a home. A back room, a parlor, a muddy yard.”
“Could be an inn, could be a house. But near the warehouse,” Ewan argued. “Isn’t that telling?”
Gawain threw up his hands. “Who can say? It’s a theory.”
“The warehouse is near the river, a ways past North Street.”
Ewan watched out the window as the carriage stopped. The coachman spoke. “This is about the same distance from the bridge.”
“We’re two blocks from the warehouse,” Ewan said. “And there are houses here.” He pulled the coat from Matilda’s head.
“What?”
“I don’t think we’re going to do any better than this. Does it feel right?” he asked.
“It was a house with a large, damp back garden.”
“Row house? Free-standing?”
“I have no idea. I think it was brick, but the room had a stone floor.” She sat up straighter. “I think that’s what the man meant about not leaving me in there. He knew they were going to give me ether, and if I’d fallen in there I could have hit my head on the stone.”
“We’ll never find it,” Gawain said.
“We could start at the warehouse and work our way around. We might see the coach. You never know,” Ewan said.
“We can’t expect Matilda to walk the streets for hours. She’s not well.”
“Your leg was troubling you today, Gawain. The damp, I would imagine,” Matilda said. “I am probably in better shape than you are.”
Gawain grunted in response.
“I think Ewan and I should stroll the area. You never know what we might see. Meanwhile, you can drive around, Gawain. Meet us here in an hour?”
Her brother nodded. “We don’t want to be away from the house for too long, in case another ransom note comes.”
“Surely they won’t risk that today,” Ewan said. “Not when we’ll be extra vigilant.”
“And exhausted,” Gawain pointed out. “Do not forget that part.”
“Do you think we’ll see another ransom note?” Ewan asked Matilda.
Her eyes were dark hollow pools in her face. She glanced out the window. “It’s going to rain again soon. And yes, I expect they’ll send another demand. They’ve kept him alive this long. But at some point they will become nervous.”
“We’ll find him before that,” Ewan promised.
“I just wish I was certain we were in the right part of town,” Matilda said. “I can’t be sure.”
“We’ve done our best. Let us walk for a while.”
She nodded, and he helped her from the carriage. “Do you remember seeing any trees behind the house, like those that line the river?”
“It was dark and it was raining. I didn’t see anything. I’m amazed I noticed the house was brick.”
He sensed a whiff of hopelessness in this endeavor, but he had to be strong for her. “Let’s walk to the warehouse and see what is around there.”
They walked the two blocks slowly, Matilda holding his arm like they were a proper couple. He couldn’t help striding proudly, thanks to her being next to him. She stared closely at each house they passed on the street.
Soon, they came to the edge of the residential area and saw the first warehouse. Matilda hesitated, then looked back over her shoulder.
“We turned through narrow streets at the end,” she said uncertainly.
“Like a warren of old houses?”
“Yes. I’m sure I wasn’t in a warehouse.”
“Very well. We’ll go back. The Douglas Flour warehouse is three down, as a point of reference.” He gestured.
She nodded, then they turned around. “Is it coincidence, do you think?”
“I don’t want to see a pattern that isn’t there, but . . .” He shrugged.
“I take your meaning. I wonder if I should make a plea to the Earl of Fitzwalter myself.”
“He had put me in charge of the businesses, no matter how temporarily. I cannot imagine, if he had planned the kidnapping of my former employer’s grandson, he would have done so.”
“Unless he thought you were our natural enemy?”
“I believe they investigated me. They must have known I was a loyal employee.”
She smiled faintly but squeezed his arm. He remembered their initial meetings, before Jacob was stolen, how much he had enjoyed simply talking to her. Stopping, he pulled her under the overhang of the last roof on a row of houses.
“You know I was genuine in my proposal.” He touched her cheek. “I really do want to marry you.”
“I believe you; I just cannot think about that right now, and whatever the truth is with Mr. Bliven, I am his fiancée. I agreed to marry him, so I am not free to say yes to you.”
“Surely you must have some sense of what you want, even now.” His hungry gaze roved her unlined forehead, her wispy, arched ginger eyebrows, her fine brown eyes, slightly reddened with exhaustion, her faintly hooked nose and soft, plump lips above a stubborn chin. Her usual rosy complexion was white with fatigue, but she was so lovely despite that. He wished he could paint, or even sketch, so he could capture her for himself.
She put her hand on his chest, lightly stroking down the buttons of his coat. “You are the sweetest, bravest man, Mr. Hales. How I wish I’d seen you clearly four years ago. Things would be so different for both of us.”
“If I’d known who my family was, I’d have had the nerve to court you.”
She smiled. “I’d have been honored. I should have been honored either way, but even Alys didn’t want to marry one of our father’s employees. I, in my foolishness, always thought I should do better than her.”
“You’ve learned, but it made you, Matilda.” He took her stubborn little chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Strong, in the face of everything. You may have made mistakes, but no one could fault you for how you’ve risen to the occasion.”
“We are the same in some ways,” she said with a little frown. “We’re both outsiders anywhere we go.”
“You aren’t an outsider in your own family,” he argued. “They love you. Look how they’ve rallied to your side.”
“But you’re the only one who was hurt. And I find it very interesting somehow that I was with you when I discovered Jacob was taken.”
He was afraid she meant it was his fault somehow, but then she went on, placing a finger to her mouth, drawing his complete attention to those plump lips.
Wedding Matilda (Redcakes Book 6) Page 18