by Amelia Grey
“Will you come with me, miss? I need to show you something right now.”
“Yes, of course.”
Bitsy turned and headed toward the door.
More than a little concerned about what the matter could be, Loretta laid her book in the chair and followed her maid up the stairs. Bitsy opened the door to Loretta’s bedchamber, entered, and walked over to her dressing table. Loretta followed her again.
At first, she didn’t know what Bitsy wanted her to see. But then Loretta saw the open chest sitting on the stool. It was empty. Her mother’s jewelry chest.
Refusing to let her mind or emotions take a leap about what might have happened, she looked at Bitsy and asked, “Where’s the jewelry?”
“I don’t know, miss.” Bitsy sniffed. “I came in here to lay out your nightclothes and saw the box sitting there just as it is now. Empty. I—I thought, I was hoping you’d tell me you’d taken all of it and put it in a safe somewhere in the house.”
At the implication of what was before her, denial shot through her mind and a lump tightened Loretta’s throat. This can’t have happened was all she could think. “I haven’t been upstairs since I returned with Farley late this afternoon.”
“I swear I didn’t take it, miss.” Bitsy’s pale lips trembled. “I have no need for all those fancy jewels and such.”
“No, no. I’m sure of that, too,” Loretta reassured her maid, begging her mind not to take her where her thoughts wanted to go. “Have you looked everywhere for the jewelry? I mean, did you check my satchel, the trunks, and the drawers?”
“Everywhere, miss,” she whispered, barely controlling her voice. “I checked every pocket, shawl, shoe, and bonnet. It’s not anywhere in this room.”
Mrs. Huddleston wasn’t with them in London. The only people who’d been in the house during the afternoon were Bitsy, her brother’s valet, the couple who lived at the town house and took care of it for her uncle, and Farley.
Denial raced through Loretta’s mind again and she shivered. Perhaps her uncle had the jewelry removed to a safe place by one of his staff.
“I’d never take anything that didn’t belong to me. I swear I didn’t touch it.”
“Bitsy, please. I know that.”
Loretta also knew her uncle wouldn’t pilfer her belongings or ask any of his staff to do it, either. She squeezed her eyes shut and her hands curled into tight fists. It broke her heart to admit it to herself but she knew who would take something that didn’t belong to him.
Struggling to remain calm, she opened her eyes and asked, “Have you talked with anyone else in the house about this?
“No, miss. I came straightaway to tell you.”
“Good. I don’t want you to mention this to anyone. Now, show me to Farley’s room.”
Feeling as if iron weights had been shackled around her ankles, Loretta climbed the stairs to the servants’ floor. They hurried down the corridor to a small room that had nothing more than a bed, a chair, and a short chest in it. Loretta shook the covers, pounded the pillow, looked under the bed, and pulled out the drawers in the chest. There was nothing in the room to even suggest Farley had ever been in it. No clothing, hairbrush, or satchel. Not even the nightcaps she’d knitted for him when he was so ill she didn’t know if he’d make it through the night.
Disbelief, anger, and heartache crawled like little black ants scurrying inside her. “Are you sure this is his room?”
“Yes, miss.”
“But none of his things are in here.”
“I see that, miss.”
“Maybe there’s a reason for this. Farley must be staying with Paxton’s valet.”
“He wouldn’t allow that.”
“We’ll ask,” she said, still fighting to stay calm and keep her inner turmoil from spilling out. “Farley’s here. Somewhere. He must be. We’ll find him. We’ll check every room until we do.”
Yet the only thing the search of the rest of the town house revealed was that there was no sign of Farley.
Loretta returned to the chair before the fire in the drawing room, refusing dinner, refusing to believe that the wayward lad wasn’t coming back with her jewelry to explain what had happened.
The night wore on. The earl came home and went to bed, but there was no word from Farley. Paxton came home and went to bed, but there was no sign of the youngster she’d tried so hard to help. She’d put on a brave face and had spoken briefly to both her uncle and brother, promising them she’d be up to her room soon. She didn’t mention the missing jewelry or the missing boy. She couldn’t make herself tell them. The burden was too great to share.
Loretta kept thinking that Hawk was right from the very first night he saw Farley. Hawk had tried to warn her, and she wouldn’t listen. Now she was devastated. She’d not only lost precious remembrances from her mother but also lost her faith in Farley. The two were equally painful, just in different ways.
When the last ember of fire went out, Loretta rose and went to her bedchamber. But not to go to bed. She dismissed Bitsy, who had fallen asleep waiting for her to come up and change. Loretta then donned her hooded cloak, grabbed her reticule with her pin money in it, and quietly slipped out of the house.
Loretta knew the duke lived in St. James, but not exactly where. That didn’t matter. She was fairly certain every hackney driver in London would know where the Duke of Hawksthorn’s town house was located. She hurried along the streets until she came to one that still had a small amount of traffic for the late hour. Several carriages passed her, but none stopped. Frustrated, she tried to wave one down by standing in the street. All that accomplished was having the driver curse at her, call her an unspeakable name, and yell that he didn’t carry the likes of her kind in his carriage after he’d almost run her down.
A cold, misting rain fell and she pulled her cloak and hood tighter about her neck. Not thinking clearly about what she was wearing, Loretta had left on her satin house slippers instead of putting on walking boots. Soon her shoes and feet were soaked from puddles. Her toes were freezing, but she refused to give up and walk back to her uncle’s house. Her determination paid off when a hackney approached, slowed, and stopped. An old man with a gray beard looked down at her from his high perch.
Rain dripped from the brim of his hat. “Where ye going?” he asked.
Too cold to care that she might once again be mistaken for the type of person she wasn’t, she swallowed and said, “To the Duke of Hawksthorn’s house. Can you take me there?”
Loretta held her breath while he ran a hand down his long beard and looked at her.
“Do ye have enough pence to pay?”
“I’ll double the fare, if you can get me there,” she said, loosening the drawstrings on her knitted reticule.
“Then I know where he lives.” The man jumped down, opened the door, and said, “Climb aboard.”
The ride wasn’t long. Loretta watched out the window and looked for landmarks to remember in case she had to find her way back to Mayfair on her own. She hadn’t even begun to stop shivering, let alone to get warm, when the carriage stopped in front of an imposing, stately home. She hadn’t expected a tall iron fence enclosing it. Some of the homes in Mayfair were bordered by tall yew hedges or short wooden fences, but few had tall iron gates.
Loretta wouldn’t let the unfriendly entrance stop her. She paid her fare, thanked the man, and hurried up to the gates. After a couple of deep breaths, she grabbed hold of the gates and pushed. Relief flooded through her. They weren’t locked, and a lamp was lit above the door.
Keeping her hood low to cover her face, she walked up to the house and rapped the knocker. It sounded so loud in the still of the darkness, she was afraid it could be heard all over London.
She waited and was about to knock again when the door opened. A slim man with narrow eyes and a long nose frowned at her.
Before she could open her mouth, he said, “Beggars go to the back door, and they wait until morning.”
“Oh, wait
,” she said, sticking out her hand to stop him from closing the door. “I’m not a beggar. I’m here to see the duke.”
“No, madame, you are not. The duke doesn’t allow solicitations”—his eyes looked her up and down—“of any kind.”
“I am a miss, not a madame,” she said indignantly. “And I am most assuredly not whatever it is that you’re thinking,” she continued. “I am a proper lady.”
His expression didn’t change. She realized too late that it was her own fault. He knew that proper young ladies wouldn’t knock on a gentleman’s door in the middle of the night or at any other time, either. Loretta knew that, too, but sometimes she simply couldn’t follow the accepted rules of Society.
“It doesn’t matter to me who you are, miss, madame, or madam. If you want food, come back in the morning. To the back of the house.” And with that, the door shut.
This was ridiculous! “By the saints!” she whispered out loud to herself. It shouldn’t be so hard to see the duke. She didn’t appreciate the assumption she was an unrespectable lady, or having a door shut in her face, or the fact her toes were slowly going numb from thin wet slippers. She hit the knocker again and again, determined not to go back to her uncle’s until she saw Hawk.
The man opened the door with such a forceful jerk it rattled the door knocker. A snarl wrinkled his nose and curled his lip.
“Tell the duke there is a lady here to see him. I know he will come to the door.”
“He’s not here,” the man said. “I don’t know when or if he’ll return this evening, and if you knock on this door one more time, I will have you forcibly removed from this property.”
The door slammed shut again. Loretta’s shoulders slumped. Oh, why hadn’t she just sent the duke a note to come see her? He would have come. Why had she fled into the night without really thinking things through?
Loretta knew the answer. She’d wanted to see the duke now. She needed to see him. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she wanted to cry on his shoulder, feel his strength, and hear his calming voice—even if it was to tell her he was right and she was wrong.
Sighing softly, she looked around. A light mist continued to fall. The chill had settled in and her feet were still freezing. What should she do? Go or stay in the hope the duke would be home soon? There was no doubt she wanted to stay, but what if Hawk didn’t return tonight? What would she do?
For the first time since finding Farley and her mother’s jewelry missing, she wanted to cry. That thought forced her to inhale deeply. She wouldn’t shed any more tears. She was strong. Capable. If she could withstand the isolation of Mammoth House for near three years, she could live through a cold night at the duke’s door. If he didn’t return by first light, she would be forced to start making her way back to her uncle’s house.
She sucked in another deep, cold breath. The wind kicked up and blew misting rain in on her. Shaking, she looked around again. There was no place to go. Nowhere to sit and wait for Hawk, so she moved in as close to the corner of the door as possible, lowered herself to the ground, and covered herself with her cloak.
Some time later, the squeal of carriage wheels stopping and someone shouting “Whoa” disturbed her slumber. Was that the duke who had come home? She tried to turn and look but realized how miserably stiff her body was from the cold and from having curled into such a tight ball for so long. It took a moment to brush her cloak aside and unwind her legs so she could stand up. When she did, Hawk was coming up the walkway toward her.
His steps halted for a moment when he noticed someone standing in front of him. Then, recognizing her, he rushed up the steps and pushed the hood off her head as if to prove to himself it was Loretta standing by his door.
He grabbed her upper arms. “Hell’s teeth, Loretta! What are you doing out here? Your cloak is soggy and you’re shivering. What’s happened?”
Under the pale-yellow glow of the porch light, she could see his lips formed a grim line. His brow creased. Was he concerned or angry? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t be sorry she’d stayed. Just to see him—if only for a few seconds, a few minutes—was worth what she’d gone through to get to his house.
“I had to come tell you about Farley.”
Hawk’s eyes and expression instantly gentled. He immediately circled her into his embrace and hugged her close. Laying his cheek against her hair, he ran his hand soothingly up and down her back, over her shoulder, seeming to have no concern that her cape was drenched with rain and getting him wet, too.
Loretta burrowed into his solid warmth.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and kissed the side of her damp forehead. “I was hoping the physician would have better news for you about Farley. I’ve never wished him any harm. You know that.”
His comforting words and tenderness caused her throat to tighten. She raised her head, gazed into his eyes, and whispered, “He’s not dying of consumption.”
Hawk brushed his gloved fingers along the side of her face, his expression questioning her. “Then what does the physician think it is? Damage from the fever?”
Loretta moistened her lips and swallowed hard, before saying, “He thinks Farley’s health will be fine if given a little more time to heal and warmer weather. That’s not the reason I came over. What you said about his nature and how he would go back to his old way of life was true. This afternoon he stole my mother’s jewelry and left. The kindness he’s been shown by everyone didn’t change him.”
Hawk hissed and pulled her to his chest again, holding her tightly around her shoulders. Loretta rested her cheek against his coat and hid her face in the warmth of his clothing, drawing strength from his arms and the steady beat of his racing heart against her ear.
“I will strangle him until he coughs up every piece that he stole from you,” Hawk whispered harshly.
“I kept waiting for him to come back,” she said, not knowing if Hawk could understand her words muffled into his chest. “To realize what he’d done was wrong.”
“You know, I don’t think it was that Farley wanted to hurt you. I don’t think it mattered to him who the jewelry belonged to. He was only doing what came natural to him. He stole because it’s what he does. It’s the only way he knows how to live.”
Hawk’s words didn’t make her feel any better about what Farley had done or the fact she hadn’t been able to make him see there was a better life for him if he was only willing to accept it. “I wanted to help him. I should have listened to you when you told me he probably wouldn’t change.”
“I wish he’d appreciated your goodness and made more of an effort to accept help from you.”
Hawk’s words soothed her disappointment in what Farley had done. “I don’t know which hurts worse: that he stole from me after all I did to help him, or that it was my mother’s jewelry he took. I don’t remember her that well, so everything I have from her is precious to me.”
Hawk’s arms tightened around her again. “I’ll find him and get it back.”
She shook her head. “Where would you begin?”
“That’s not something you need to worry about. I will take care of it. I will start looking for him as soon as the sun rises. I’m glad you wanted to let me know, but you should have just sent me a note. It was dangerous for you to be out alone. Especially at this late hour.”
“I might have been hasty in my decision to slip out of the house.”
“Might?” He smiled.
Her throat tightened. “I knew you would understand how I feel.”
“I do,” he said earnestly. “I know how hard you tried. How much you wanted to make a difference in his life.” His expression softened again. “It’s all right if you want to cry. It would give me an excuse to hold you a little longer.”
“No,” she answered, feeling stronger just talking to him. “I don’t want to weep for him again. I’m only sad I couldn’t help him and, maybe, I even have a little hope that he’ll come back and return what he took.”
“And you will forgive him if he does.”
“I’ll have to.”
The sound of a carriage rumbling down the street caused Hawk to move her from underneath the light and into the shadows. “You can’t be seen here.”
Hawk swung his cloak off his shoulders and wrapped it around her. Its warmth flooded her. He pulled the hood low over her face again and hooked the silver clasp at the throat.
“Does anyone know you’re here? Your maid?”
“I slipped out of the house after everyone went to bed. I kept my hood low. Only a hackney driver and your butler saw me. He thought I was—I was—anyway, he wouldn’t let me in.”
“Price was only following my orders. There are many people who come to my door seeking my attention. He has to be firm.”
“I understand.”
He looked down into her eyes and asked huskily, “Do you? Do you know now that you have come to me, I will never let you go?”
Loretta stiffened. “No. That’s not why I came to you. We have been over this, Hawk. I’m not free. You know that. I probably shouldn’t have come at all, but I had to let you know you were right all along about Farley.”
“I had an idea earlier tonight, Loretta. I was talking to Griffin and Rath and it came to me what needs to be done.”
She took a step back. “You were talking with the other two Rakes of St. James about this? Us? My oath?”
“Yes,” he said as innocently as if he’d just told her it was raining. Suddenly Hawk whipped his head around and looked down the street. “I know what we need to do,” he whispered, and then quickly turned back to her. “And because of my discussion with them, I know what to do.”
“Are you serious? Don’t you know by now that whatever you three rakes come up with is not going to end well?”
Hawk smiled and then blew out a soft laugh as he shook his head.
“I admit we’ve had our failures in the past, but not this time. I was going to wait until tomorrow to come see you, but it just so happens the perfect place is just down the street and around the corner. I don’t know why it wasn’t clear to me before, but for whatever reason, I now know the answer.”