“I feel fine, Becky.” Amanda forced a smile. “Besides, I promised Appelton to travel to Richmond with him this morning to visit his mother. She is elderly, he says, and rarely goes out, but she does enjoy company.”
“Just the two of you?” Rebecca asked quickly.
“I assume so. You need not worry, dear. I am certain he will drive his curricle with his groom up behind and we should not be gone above three hours. I will be back by mid-afternoon.”
A frown touched Rebecca’s broad forehead. “I would not wish to appear inquisitive, my dear, but I have noticed that you and the earl spend a great deal of time together. I cannot help wondering if you and he have— Uh—”
Amanda stifled a sigh. Why could no one understand that there was nothing romantic in her relationship with the earl? “Appelton and I are friends, Becky, nothing more. He is forever teasing me, just as if I were his little sister. Furthermore, he never embarrasses me by launching into silly similes comparing my eyes to gemstones or my hair to sunbeams.”
“Sunbeams?” Rebecca repeated, staring at Amanda with widened eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Amanda nodded ruefully. “Some are worse. Sir Sidney informed me yesterday that I was an angel descended to earth. I asked him when I had died.”
“Amanda! I hope you did not offend him.”
“Well, he really should not say such ridiculous things. Appelton never does and I think that is why I value his company so much.”
“I suppose I can understand that,” Rebecca conceded. “And considering that you have no particular desire to remarry—”
“None at all,” Amanda interrupted, jumping to her feet. “If you will excuse me, Becky, I wish to change into my new carriage dress. I shall say goodbye before I leave.”
Amanda had dressed for the outing a little early and had just started toward the drawing room to tell Rebecca goodbye when one of the footmen intercepted her in the upstairs hallway to tell her that Lord Appelton had arrived.
“Thank you, James,” Amanda said. “Tell him I shall be with him shortly.”
Amanda said a hasty goodbye to Rebecca, then hurried down the stairs. Hammond waited near the door in the entrance hall.
“I asked his lordship to come in, my lady, but he wished to stay with the carriage. He requests that you join him outside.” Hammond opened the door and Amanda hurried out onto the steps.
Lady Cordelia’s coach, complete with her coachman seated on the box, stood in front of Amanda’s town house. Appelton was pacing beside the coach. He looked up when Amanda stepped outside and then rushed to her side. A deep frown furrowed his brow.
“What’s wrong, my friend?” Amanda asked. “Is your mother ill?”
Appelton grasped Amanda’s hands. “No,” he said, his jaw set in grim lines. “We aren’t going to see my mother. I fear I lied to you about my plans. I hope you’ll still accompany me when I tell you where we are going.”
Amanda pulled her hands from his grasp and clasped them in front of her. “You lied?”
“Yes, but it was at Lady Cordelia’s request. She feared if you knew in advance, you might say something to Blackbourne and that would never do.”
Amanda frowned in confusion. “Say something about what to Lord Blackbourne?”
“I’ll explain if you’ll accompany me. You needn’t feel any concern for your reputation. Lady Cordelia has sent her companion along as chaperone. Miss Whitehead awaits us in the coach.”
Amanda shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lord Appelton, but I’m not setting foot in that coach until I understand why you lied to me and where you intend to take me.”
Appelton glanced toward the house. Hammond still stood on the steps, as did James, the footman. Appelton lowered his voice. “Very well. I would prefer to explain in the privacy of the coach, but I’ll tell you here. We’re going to rescue the Marquess of Blackbourne’s mother. Lady Blackbourne is in a bad way, both physically and financially, and Lady Cordelia is hoping you will give the poor woman succor. Lady Cordelia would take Lady Blackbourne in herself, but she cannot afford to do so. Blackbourne holds the family purse strings and he is not overly generous with Lady Cordelia.”
Amanda’s eyes widened. Never had Blackbourne or anyone else in London mentioned his mother. Amanda had assumed that the woman was long dead. “Blackbourne’s mother is alive?”
“Absolutely.” Appelton nodded vigorously. “At least for the moment. She’s been living on the streets since sometime last month and would be there still except that her plight came to the attention of Lady Cordelia, who paid to put her up in an inn until some arrangement can be made for Lady Blackbourne’s care. She needs medical attention and around-the-clock nursing for a few days. I can’t take her into my bachelor’s quarters, of course, and Lady Cordelia lacks the funds to hire an extra servant or pay a physician’s fees. She’s hoping you will help.”
“But if this woman is Blackbourne’s mother, why is he not helping?”
“Asking him to help would be useless. Lady Cordelia told me that the marquess hates his mother. When Blackbourne was just a child, his mother deserted her husband to become mistress to a rich merchant. That merchant recently died and his children by his legal wife tossed Lady Blackbourne into the street. She is, unfortunately, not at all well.”
“A rich merchant?” Amanda repeated. “Why would the wife of a marquess desert her husband to become mistress to a merchant? I find that hard to believe.”
“As did I until Lady Cordelia explained that Lady Blackbourne had loved the merchant before she was forced to marry the marquess. But please, my lady, could I explain further after we’re on our way? That is, if you’re willing to accompany Miss Whitehead and me to the inn. If not…” Appelton shrugged. “If not, I don’t know what will become of Lady Blackbourne.”
At that moment, Miss Whitehead leaned forward in the coach and called through the window. “Are we going to be on our way soon, Lord Appelton? It grows stuffy in this coach.”
Amanda still had many questions, but she realized they would have to wait. If everything Appelton had told her was true, she couldn’t refuse to come to the aid of Blackbourne’s mother. She nodded. “Very well. I’ll come with you.”
A smile of relief lightened Appelton’s expression. “I knew you would never refuse to come to the aid of a fellow human being. May I help you into the carriage?”
As Miss Whitehead had said, the interior of the coach was stuffy and Amanda could understand why she was growing impatient. She settled back against the squabs and addressed Miss Whitehead. “How far are we from the inn?”
Miss Whitehead sniffed. “How would I know? Nobody tells me anything. I’m just told to go here, to go there. I do what I’m told.” The woman sniffed again and then turned her head to gaze out the window.
Amanda repeated her question a minute later when Appelton climbed into the coach.
“Less than three miles. I borrowed Lady Cordelia’s coach for the journey because we will require something roomy to accommodate Lady Blackbourne. She may need to lie down for the trip back to your town house. That is, if you agree to house her.”
“I still don’t understand why Lady Cordelia doesn’t tell Blackbourne about his mother’s plight. Even if he still feels animosity toward her, surely he would not refuse to provide funds for her.”
Appelton shrugged. “Lady Cordelia says Blackbourne would have no sympathy at all for his mother. I must assume she would know.”
Amanda nodded. “One would assume so, yes.” She spent the remainder of the trip turning this strange situation over in her mind. She couldn’t imagine a mother deserting her child, nor could she imagine a son refusing to provide for his mother even if she had deserted him. There must be more to the tale, Amanda decided, and she found herself hoping there would be some reconciliation between the two. In the meantime, she was more than willing to provide for Blackbourne’s mother.
Half an hour later, the coachman pulled his team to a stop.
Glancing out the window, Amanda realized their destination was more in the nature of a rundown tavern than a true inn. A second later Miss Whitehead leaned forward to look out the window. Then she gasped and gripped her reticule tightly. “If either of you think I’m setting foot in that place, I take leave to tell you that you are mistaken. At the very least, I suspect I would come in contact with fleas.”
Amanda lifted her brows. “You must do as you see fit, Miss Whitehead.” She turned to Appelton. “Is this the inn where Lady Blackbourne is being housed?”
“So Lady Cordelia informed me. Would you prefer to wait in the coach while I inquire within?”
“I’m sure Lady Cordelia’s information is accurate. And I suspect you can learn more about Lady Blackbourne’s condition if a female accompanies you. Shall we go?”
As Amanda had expected, the interior of the building was dim and possessed an odor that suggested an unpleasant mingling of smoke, ale, and unwashed bodies. She hoped she and Appelton could finish quickly and make their way back outside soon.
As it turned out, they were in luck. The tavern owner appeared to be expecting them. When Appelton explained that they had come to collect one of his guests, the owner nodded once, then immediately led them up a dark stairwell and to the end of a narrow hallway where he tapped once before lifting the latch and pushing the door open. He stepped back and allowed Amanda and Appelton to enter the room.
A woman sat in a straight chair in front of a grimy window that looked out onto an alleyway. Although her chamber was both stuffy and overly warm, she had wrapped herself in a blanket and pulled it tightly around her thin shoulders. She turned at the sound of the door opening and gazed at Amanda and Appelton with eyes that appeared to be glazed over. Signs of a fever were clear to Amanda.
Appelton spoke first. “Lady Blackbourne?”
Amanda immediately determined that the woman was Blackbourne’s mother. The two shared the same eyes—very dark and unusually large—and the same broad brow. Even their hair color was an identical coal black, although Lady Blackbourne’s contained hints of gray and hung in limp strands around her too-thin face.
A tiny whimper, barely audible, sounded from the woman’s direction and her throat jumped as she swallowed a bit too quickly.
Amanda stepped in front of Appelton, being careful not to move too abruptly or to venture too close to the woman, who cowered in her chair.
“How do you do, Lady Blackbourne,” Amanda said with a smile she hoped appeared non-threatening. “My name is Amanda, Countess of Willowvale, and I’ve come at the request of your sister-in-law, Lady Cordelia. If you are agreeable, I’ll take you to my home where you’ll be a guest for the foreseeable future.”
The woman pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. A sight frown touched her brow and her tongue flicked out in an effort to moisten her cracked lips. When she at last spoke, her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. “Cordelia sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry. I thought you already knew. Lady Cordelia heard about your plight and would have taken you in herself but she says she’s in straitened circumstances at the moment.”
A slight tightening of the woman’s lips was followed by a croaking laugh. “Cordelia would feel she was in straitened circumstances if she were as rich as Midas.” She straightened her shoulders a bit. “And why would you, a stranger, take me in?”
“Because Lady Cordelia has been kind to me and I would consider it an honor to be able to repay her by granting her this favor.”
“By taking me in, you mean?”
“Yes.”
The woman shook her head. “You don’t know Cordelia. She’d as soon see me in Hades as to lend me aid. So begone, both of you. I want no part of your charity.”
Amanda risked a step closer. “I’m not offering charity, my lady. Just repaying a debt. I promise that I mean you no harm.”
The woman’s chin jutted out. “If you’re an associate of Cordelia’s, I could never trust you.” She flung her blanket back, struggled to her feet, and lifted an arm to point to the door. But her arm quickly dropped and she began to sway.
Amanda turned to Appelton. “She’s going to faint. Catch her.”
A grimace of distaste touched Appelton’s face before he blew his breath out in a sigh.
“Now,” Amanda ordered.
Appelton reached the woman just as she toppled forward. He swung her into his arms and immediately turned his head to one side. “I pray I don’t catch her fever. In addition, I must inform you that the woman stinks.”
Amanda ignored his complaints. “Can you carry her down the stairs?”
Appelton sighed, then nodded. “I can. She’s light as a feather. Let’s go.”
Amanda could only be thankful that Lady Blackbourne didn’t regain consciousness either on the trip back to the town house or when Appelton again picked her up and carried her to the bedchamber that had been prepared for her.
Rebecca hurried into the chamber, took one look at the woman now lying on the bed and pursed her lips. “Amanda, my dear, you’ll want to accompany Lord Appelton back to the front door. Please ask Hammond to send for a physician and then ask one of the kitchen maids to start heating water. Have someone bring it to me as soon as it’s hot. Good day, Lord Appelton.”
Relieved that her dear Becky was in charge, Amanda smiled at Appelton and preceded him out into the hall and down the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-One
Blackbourne’s indignation that morning had been almost as great as his frustration when Amanda ordered him out of her house. He had dashed down the stairs, vaulted into his curricle and urged his horses into a near gallop. But he had traveled less than a mile before his anger began to fade. Amanda, he realized, had every right to be distrustful of the nobility if Oliver had, in fact, really treated her as abominably as she claimed.
Astounded that he had begun questioning Oliver’s honesty in earnest, Blackbourne slowed his pair to a walk and allowed them to meander the rest of the way to Bourne House while his thoughts wandered back to the beginning of his friendship with the Earl of Willowvale.
Could it be, Blackbourne wondered, that the exigencies of war had blinded him to Oliver’s true character? At the time he had judged Oliver to be both honorable and courageous although, truth to tell, Oliver had sometimes seemed reckless. In fact, more than once he had needlessly risked the welfare of other men along with his own. Could his apparent disregard for his life have been the result of irresponsibility rather than desperation at having made such an inappropriate marriage?
So what was he to believe? It would be easy enough, Blackbourne supposed, to pose a few questions to the right people and either prove or disprove Amanda’s version of her marriage. But he didn’t want to take that path. What he really wanted, he realized, was to have faith in Amanda because his heart told him it was the right thing to do. Just as he would want her to have faith in him.
And if he accepted Amanda’s story, he still did not understand why Amanda had married the Earl of Willowvale in the first place. Had a title meant so much to her that she’d been willing to trade her freedom for it? No, Blackbourne decided. The Amanda he thought he knew would never have married for such a superficial reason.
Had she fancied herself in love with Oliver? There was only one way to find out, Blackbourne realized. He would return to Amanda’s town house and ask her. But first, he decided with a rueful smile, he would wait until her anger had had time to cool.
He whistled cheerfully a few minutes later when he bounded up the stairs to his bedchamber and rang for Stephens. He wanted to bathe and change clothes before going back to Berkeley Square to tell Amanda he believed her and to ask her what her motives had been in marrying Oliver. He wanted to look his very best. Perhaps she would forgive him for all the unkind things he had thought about her.
Three hours later, Blackbourne again pulled his curricle to a stop in front of Amanda’s town house
. He had dressed carefully, choosing his newest coat, a blue superfine cutaway. A sapphire twinkled in his carefully tied cravat, competing with the sparkle of his highly polished Hessians. He was smiling when he lifted the doorknocker.
He was a bit taken aback by Hammond’s solemn expression, but he was much too happy to allow anyone’s surly mood to affect him. “I wish to see Lady Willowvale,” he said, still smiling.
The butler squared his shoulders. “Lady Willowvale is not receiving guests,” he said. “Good day, my lord.”
Blackbourne’s smile faded. Obviously Amanda was still furious with him. But he wasn’t willing to admit defeat so quickly. “In that case, I’d like to see Miss Thornton.”
Hammond raised his nose a notch higher. “Miss Thornton is engaged at the moment, my lord. I shall inform both of the ladies that you called. Good day, my lord.”
Blackbourne briefly considered pushing Hammond to one side and going in search of Amanda himself, but he realized that he’d be doing his cause no good by forcing his attentions on her. Clearly he needed to give her more time. He heaved a sigh and turned to leave but almost collided with a gentleman dressed in black and carrying a small bag. The man nodded to Blackbourne, then stepped around him and addressed Hammond. “I’m the physician you sent for. Where is my patient?”
Blackbourne spun to confront Hammond. He drew his brows down and glared as he had done on the battlefield when facing the enemy. “Patient? What patient? Is Miss Thornton ill?”
Hammond’s eyes widened but he stood his ground. “Miss Thornton is well, my lord. However, I have been instructed to turn away all callers. Now, if you would be so kind as to—”
“Amanda,” Blackbourne murmured and his scowl deepened. “It must be Amanda.” He bounded up the steps and pushed Hammond to one side. If Amanda was ill, he intended to see her and then summon his own physician, who was the most respected doctor in the city.
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