Rescued by the Earl's Vows

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘What if it should rain?’ Wilhelmina said.

  ‘It is not going to rain,’ Tess said firmly. ‘One only has to look at the sky to see it is set to be fair for the rest of the day.’

  Wilhelmina pouted. ‘Very well, but if you should get soaked to the skin and catch an inflammation of the lungs I beg you will not complain to me.’

  ‘I believe I am able to engage shelter for my party should it be necessary, Lady Rowan,’ Sandford put in smoothly, clearly wishing to be gone as much as Tess did.

  ‘I will fetch my hat and coat.’ Tess left before Wilhelmina could voice some new objection. Or put any more of a damper on the outing. One thing was certain, banishment to Yorkshire had one advantage. She would not any longer be subject to Wilhelmina’s carping.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jaimie kept a firm grip on Tess’s arm as they wandered along behind Michael and Alice. Michael, naturally, had scoffed at the idea of taking his wife to a fair on Hampstead Heath, but Alice, bless her, had insisted. Somehow she had sensed the outing was important. How she had, Jaimie didn’t know, because he wasn’t exactly sure why it was important himself. He just knew that Tess had expressed a desire to see a balloon ascension and he had wanted to fulfil that wish.

  In front of them, Hawkhurst intimidated anyone who so much as looked in their direction while Jaimie kept a sharp eye out for incursions from the rear. He didn’t blame the poor for trying to relieve those better off of handkerchiefs and coins, as long as they didn’t try it with any of those under his protection.

  ‘Oh, look,’ Tess said. ‘It is already going up. We are going to miss it.’

  At the centre of the fairground, still some distance off from where they were, the balloon was slowly rising above the heads of the crowd. ‘I would say it is barely half-full yet,’ he said, patting Tess’s small gloved hand where it rested on his sleeve. ‘There is still lots of time.’

  ‘It is already huge.’

  ‘It has to be, to lift a man.’ He caught a whiff of burning straw. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. ‘He’s using fire?’

  Tess glanced up at him, her expression full of interest. ‘I thought that was what a hot-air balloon meant.’

  It did. He just hadn’t thought about it. ‘Most aeronautists these days use hydrogen. It is easier to manage. Less dangerous.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Hawkhurst continued to press forward until they were at the front of the circle surrounding the balloon. The opening of the balloon was being held over a fire while its ropes prevented it from lifting off the ground. The envelope, a blue-and-red striped affair, was gradually swelling up. It bobbed and flapped when caught by the light breeze. Beside it sat the gondola in which the aeronautist would ride and another smaller brazier which would be suspended beneath the neck of the balloon once it was airborne.

  ‘Why on earth is he using fire?’ Jaimie asked.

  Michael gave him a sharp look. ‘I suspect its cheaper than hydrogen and easier to replenish once he’s far distant from human habitation.’

  ‘Makes sense.’ The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach would not be stilled. He hated the smell of smoke, no matter how much his rational mind told him there was absolutely no danger. The wind wasn’t strong enough to carry sparks any distance, but this sort of barely controlled burning was enough to drive him mad. God willing, the idiot would get the thing started and be on his way.

  ‘Have you ever wanted to go up in one?’ Tess asked.

  He stared at the contraption. A feeble thing made of paper and silk and varnish. He’d watched several ascend when they’d first made headlines in the newspapers. ‘Yes. I would.’ But not if they were using fire as the means of ascending. He had too much respect for his life to be throwing it away. At least, he did now. At one time, not so much.

  ‘Me, too,’ Tess said.

  ‘Do you think he will offer rides?’ Alice asked.

  Hawkhurst growled a warning.

  ‘It is perfectly safe,’ his wife said. ‘As long as the balloon is tethered.’

  ‘It is perfectly unsafe,’ Hawkshurst said. ‘Half the balloons launched result in loss of limb or life. You have children at home who need you, madam.’

  Jaimie shot his cousin a look of sympathy, but knew better than to join in a marital squabble.

  Alice pouted, then grinned. ‘I was thinking of Tess, not me.’

  Jaimie felt his face drain of blood. If Tess went, he would be obliged to go with her.

  ‘Me?’ Tess said.

  Jaimie steeled himself.

  Tess glanced up, an expression of something flitting across her face. Did she sense his disquiet? He waited for the mockery that would come next.

  ‘I think I would prefer to watch this first time,’ Her smile was too bright for it to be the truth, but he took the out, none the less. Coward.

  He eyed the scene, judging the diameter of the circle around the expanding envelope. This distance from the fire seemed safe enough. ‘It shouldn’t be long now.’

  * * *

  The crowd around the perimeter of the ropes pressed in tighter, but both Tess and Alice were sheltered by the stalwart and braced bodies of their escorts. Compared to the size of the balloon, that was now lifting clear of the ground, the little basket in which Mr Phipps would travel seemed almost minuscule, but it was more than large enough to carry several people.

  What would it be like to fly up in the sky like a bird? Did she really want to try? Both men seemed to agree it was highly risky. And indeed she had read about several accidents.

  The balloon lifted skywards. The crowd gasped. It bobbed about on its ropes almost as if it was alive. The gondola now righted itself and sat beneath it. The man in charge of the whole affair stepped forward, yelling about the glories of flight, and the wealth of knowledge to be gained from his endeavour, while his minions began passing among the crowd collecting donations. Both Hawkhurst and Jaimie tossed coins into the hat pushed in their direction.

  Mr Phipps climbed into the gondola.

  ‘So he is not offering rides,’ Tess said, half-disappointed and half-relieved.

  ‘Apparently not,’ Sandford said. ‘I gather this is a serious endeavor, not a display for entertainment.’

  The minions continued to harass the crowd, seeking more funds. Finally, they returned to their employer, who blithely pocketed the money. The men then worked at the ropes attached to stakes in the ground. At Phipps’s signal they set them free and the balloon rose into the air.

  The crowd fell silent as it lifted slowly. Tess stared upwards, almost dizzy as it went higher and higher directly above them.

  Phipps leaned out and waved his hat.

  The crowd broke into applause.

  Someone jostled against Tess. A tug on her reticule made her look down. Sandford grabbed the arm of a little ragamuffin who looked up at him with shock and fear on his face.

  ‘What the devil?’ Sandford exclaimed.

  Hawkhurst reached for the lad who slipped his arms free of his coat and burrowed his way through the press of the crowd. In seconds he’d disappeared.

  ‘Blast it,’ Sandford said. ‘He got away. Are you all right, Lady Tess?’

  ‘Perfectly fine.’

  Hawkhurst’s lips thinned. ‘Did he take anything?’

  ‘Oh, he could not have. He was only beside me for a moment.’

  ‘Check, please, Lady Tess.’ Sandford looked furious. ‘Blasted little thief. Damn clumsy.’ He was staring after the boy. ‘I feel as if I have seen him somewhere before.’

  Tess dug in her reticule. ‘All I brought with me was my handkerchief and a coin purse containing a few pennies.’ All she had left of this month’s pin money. Her fingers encountered both items along with something that had not been there when she’d left home. A note, folded in a triangle.

  She gas
ped.

  ‘What is missing?’ Hawkhurst asked in a tight voice.

  ‘Nothing,’ Tess said, her heart beating so fast the word came out jerky. ‘Everything is here.’

  Sandford gave her a strange look. ‘If he did steal something, we really should go after him. If we catch him, we might be able to save him from committing worse crimes. Even find him gainful employment.’

  Her mind whirled at her discovery. Only one person ever folded his notes in that particular way. Grey. Was it possible? Desperate to go home and read his message in private, she glared at Sandford. ‘Is that really your intention?’

  He looked down his nose. ‘Why would I lie?’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Alice said. ‘If Lady Tess says nothing was taken, then there is no more to be said.’

  Sandford meanwhile was gazing into the distance, as if he could somehow divine where the boy had gone. The last thing Tess wanted was for him to find him. At last she had the hope of finding Grey.

  She glanced up at the sky, where the balloon was little more than a speck in the distance. ‘Did you not promise us luncheon, Sandford?’

  He turned back to her, suspicion rife in his gaze and his smile mechanical. ‘I did. Shall we go?’

  * * *

  ‘You sent for me, me lord?’

  Jaimie straightened and stretched his back. He gazed regretfully at his latest attempt at a graft, then poured water in to the bowl and washed his hands. ‘I did. It came to me an hour or so ago. A boy. You sent him to discover where Lady Tess lived, the first day she came here. Do you remember?’

  Growler looked affronted. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Jaimie asked.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘What is his name? Where does he live?’

  Growler scratched the end of his nose. ‘Just one of the lads, he is. A hey-you or a you-there sort of fellow. He hangs about with some of the regular boys sometimes, so I give him a copper for doing this and that. I was thinking we might take him on permanent, maybe. He’s bright enough.’

  But who had his loyalty? ‘Hangs about with the other lads?’

  ‘Chin wagging. Larking about.’

  Everything Growler said made the heaviness in his gut grow worse. ‘Can you find him, do you think?’

  Growler grimaced. ‘I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him for the last couple of days, me lord.’

  ‘He was the lad who stumbled into Lady Tess. I thought he was a cutpurse.’

  ‘What?’ Growler’s gravelly voice became even more raspy. And louder.

  ‘He didn’t take anything.’ So she had said. But something had happened. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on that had caused Tess to be silent on the way home and positively anxious to be rid of him. ‘I have seen him at other times. He held my horse once. Outside a pawnbroker where Lady Tess was paying a visit. And he ran an errand for me at Covent Garden Market. Not until today did I realise it was the same boy.’

  ‘What in hell’s name—?’

  The answer flashed across his mind. ‘He is a spy. He looks ragged, but his fingernails are spotless. His teeth, too. Why did I not notice before?’ Because Tess was a constant source of distraction to him, that was why.

  Growler’s brow lowered. ‘His togs were filthy. Torn to shreds. I gave him a shirt when I asked him to run a couple of messages. His was so raggedy I thought he might get arrested if he went anywhere near any of our clients.’

  ‘Part of his disguise. Find out what the lads have told him. No blame, mind. And tell them to let me or you know if they see him again. Treat him as they always do, but come to one of us at the first opportunity.’

  Growler walked up and down the rows of plants. He stopped at one. Bent and inhaled. ‘Now that’s what I calls a flower.’

  Surprised Jaimie joined him. ‘Saints in heaven.’ He stared at the bud starting to unfurl.’ He couldn’t quite believe it. He’d given up on this one weeks ago. About the same time Tess had arrived in his life.

  ‘I want you to follow Lady Tess, Growler. You and no one else. And have one of the regular boys, one you would trust with your life, shadow that maid of hers.’

  Growler’s beetle brow lowered. ‘Still don’t trust her, Guv?’

  Jaimie winced at the disapproval on Growler’s face. But Tess had lied to him. Again. No doubt she was off on another of her starts and heaven only knew what sort of trouble she’d end up in. But he had a strong feeling it had something to do with that boy.

  And there was no denying the bad feeling in his gut. The sense of being played for a fool.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sipping at her morning chocolate, leaning back against the pillows and still snug beneath the covers, Tess read and reread the short note from Grey. Each terse syllable. Cease your search. No signature, but the note could have come from no one else.

  Her heart twisted painfully at the lack of any sort of greeting or assurance of wellbeing. The lack of an expression of a desire to meet. Grey had never treated her that way before. Something was wrong.

  ‘My lady!’ Mims sailed into the room. ‘Still abed? I thought you were to be out shopping with Lady Rowan in less than half an hour and your bathwater is getting cold in the dressing room.’

  Heavens, Wilhelmina would be furious if she wasn’t ready. She folded the note carefully and looked up to find Mims watching her with narrowed eyes. ‘Is something wrong, my lady?’

  ‘No.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘Why would you say such a thing?’

  ‘I’ve know you long enough to know when you look worried, my lady.’

  ‘I simply do not want to be late, that is all. You know how my cousin is when things do not go exactly as she has planned.’

  Mims gave a little sniff but said no more on the matter.

  As Mims helped her dress, Tess continued to worry. Why hadn’t Grey contacted her before? Why was his note so lacking in warmth? At least he was alive. What could have happened to him over the past year since she’d seen him? But above all, would he still have her bracelet? Surely he would return it if she asked? If she could find a way to actually speak to him face to face.

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘What? Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t hear what I said.’

  ‘Of course I—’ She lifted her gaze to meet Mims’s eagle eye. ‘Oh, dash it! What did you say?’

  ‘Blue-sprig muslin or primrose gauze.’

  She’d worn both of them several times, but not on any of her outings with Sandford as yet. How clever of Mims to remember. She really was a treasure, even if she did take advantage of her position from time to time.

  Someone tapped on the door.

  Mims shuffled over and staggered backwards a moment or two later with a neatly tied tangle of honeysuckle. Fragrance filled the room. Why on earth would he send her wild honeysuckle? Her heart sank as she recalled its meaning. Inconstancy.

  Mims handed it to her. ‘I’ll fetch a vase.’

  Tess inspected the bouquet more closely. In addition to the honeysuckle, he’d added sprigs from the bough of the cherry. Deception. Clearly he had guessed she had not told him the full truth yesterday. Guiltily, she glanced at Grey’s note.

  She should have trusted Sandford and told him about the note. After all, he’d shown himself to be nothing but honourable. But how could she when she had no idea of Grey’s current circumstances?

  Yet something in her heart was telling her to seek help from Sandford.

  Her heart? Really? She had to admit these past few days she had seen a very different side of the arrogant handsomer-than-sin lord of all he surveyed. His good looks were overshadowed by an unsuspected kindness and generosity. Not to mention he made her laugh with his dry wit.

  Perhaps her heart had opened up a fraction and allowed him a place inside. Did that mean she could trust him enough to
tell him everything? Perhaps it did. The moonlight picnic tonight might be the perfect opportunity.

  Hopefully she would not have cause to regret giving him her trust. She did not think she could bear it if he, too, let her down.

  * * *

  A month ago Jaimie would not have imagined attending the annual Frobisher moonlight picnic. To be honest he’d almost cried off. His investigations into the mysterious Mayfair intruder were coming to a conclusion. Usually he liked to be in at the arrest of the culprit, but he’d given his word to attend this affair with Tess, so here he was doing his duty, escorting her across the grass to watch a game of croquet under the stars. Well stars, and the few hundred torches that turned night into day.

  What surprised him most was that he would far rather be here with Tess instead of presiding over the arrest and confinement of yet another poor wretch who had fallen into criminal activity. Unfortunately, the oddity of the circumstances surrounding this particular fellow had him on edge and thinking he should maybe be there instead of here. By all accounts, the burglar, who he’d discovered was known as The Smith, was a hardworking blacksmith revered for his honest dealing and generous spirit. He was also a popular bachelor at whom many of the local young ladies had set their caps.

  None of the information Growler had garnered fitted with his nefarious night-time activities. But after following him from Mrs Plunkett’s establishment for several days and nights in a row, Growler had been positive they had the right man. And a clever man he was, too.

  He had set one of his lads to watch Jaimie and garner information about his investigations. No wonder they’d had such trouble catching him in the act. Tonight, surprise would be on their side and they would spring the trap.

  Once more he ran through the instructions he had given his men, as well as going over the plan one last time. He feared there was something, some little thread, he was missing. If so, the whole plan could go awry. For example, why had a boy connected to a criminal attempted to rob the companion of the man out to catch that criminal? It did not make any sense. And therefore there must be a reason behind it.