by Karen Ranney
“I have to pack her trunks.”
“Get out,” he repeated softly, in a tone that made Lorna’s skin pebble.
Barbara finally curtsied in a way that managed to convey contempt more than respect and left the room.
“What did Mary say when you met with her?” Lorna asked. “Did she agree to leave? Was she angry?”
“She didn’t have a choice,” Alex said, going to the fireplace and jerking on the bellpull.
“What are we going to do?”
“Find her,” he said.
She walked to him, hoping that he’d do exactly as he did, extend his arms around her.
He tilted his head, lay his cheek against her hair. For long moments they just stood there, holding each other.
“I’m so scared,” she said. “What if she hurts Robbie?”
“We’ll find him,” he said. “Maybe she doesn’t have him.”
“She has him.” The sick feeling in her stomach told her that Robbie was in danger.
When a maid appeared in the open doorway, Alex spoke to her.
“Ask Mrs. McDermott to call on us here,” he said.
She was gone in a flurry of skirts.
“Where is she?” Lorna asked.
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” he said.
Could someone else have Robbie? Were they wrong in thinking Mary had taken him?
When Mrs. McDermott arrived, Alex addressed the housekeeper.
“I want every member of the staff to stop what they’re doing and search for Mary,” he said.
Lorna pulled away, beginning to pace the width of the room. “I need to go search as well, Alex. I can’t just wait here.”
“I’ll have the carriage readied in case she’s left Blackhall.”
Mrs. McDermott nodded, and left to carry out Alex’s orders.
Lorna glanced around the room. “Would she have left with all her trunks here?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “She might have asked Barbara to follow her.”
If that were the case, it was obvious Barbara wasn’t going to say.
“Where would she go? Where would she take Robbie?”
“Your Grace.”
Lorna turned to see Mrs. McDermott standing there, a look of worry on the older woman’s face.
“Matthews says she’s left, sir. She’s taken a carriage and left Blackhall.”
“Was Robbie with her?” Alex asked.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Lorna had anticipated the question and answer, but hearing it aloud was different from imagining it. A fist clamped around her heart and lungs.
The housekeeper stepped aside to reveal the valet standing there.
She couldn’t breathe. She was going to faint. Now was not the time to indulge in hysteria. She couldn’t talk. All she could do was concentrate on the air around her as if she stood in a bubble. Take one breath, make it last. Take another. Swallow. Breathe. Hold yourself together.
Matthews had hated her from the beginning. He’d never thought her good enough to be Alex’s wife. Not because of who she was but because of what she’d done. What work she’d performed, as if work alone labeled a person.
Stepping away from Alex, she made her way to stand in front of Matthews.
“Did you help her take Robbie?”
“Of course not,” he said, looking at Alex rather than her.
She grabbed his lapels and, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, jerked him close to her. Speaking calmly and enunciating clearly, she asked, “Did you help her take Robbie?”
Maybe it was madness he saw in her eyes, something that made him swallow before answering her. This time his attention was all on her, not on Alex, who was now standing beside her.
“No, Your Grace, I didn’t. Nor did I know she would do something like this.”
She stared into his eyes as if she could read the truth of his comment there. A moment later she released him and moved closer to Alex.
“Tell us what you do know,” Alex said.
His arms were now around her. He was speaking, but his words didn’t make any sense. She patted his upper arms. She nodded, but beyond that she couldn’t communicate.
Her heart was bleeding inside and it felt like she was going to die from this pain.
“She’s gone to Inverness. She was meeting someone.”
“Tell me where.”
“Innes Street,” the valet said. “East of the River Ness, near the Shore Street area. That’s all I know. I’ve no knowledge of the exact address, Your Grace.”
Matthews glanced at her. For the first time, there was no disdain in his expression.
“I would have stopped her if I’d known she was going to take Robbie, Your Grace.”
“Then I’m off to Inverness,” Alex said, moving to the door.
“Not without me,” she said.
They exchanged a look. She didn’t know what he saw on her face, but Alex finally nodded.
Chapter 33
To Lorna’s surprise, it was raining when they left Blackhall and entered the carriage. She hadn’t heard the storm. Nor was she aware of the passage of time. The afternoon had advanced into evening without her knowledge of it.
Alex sat beside her and held her hand. She felt as if she were spinning out of control. He was an anchor, the only steadfast thing in a frightening world.
No matter how fast the horses went, it wasn’t fast enough. She wanted Alex to give instructions to the driver to drive faster but knew it was foolhardy on this stormy night.
Alex was stoic, a man turned to marble. Even the air stilled around him, as if impressed by his statuelike form. He didn’t speak, but neither did she.
When she began to tremble, it wasn’t from the chilled night.
He dropped her hand and reached around her with one arm, pulling her closer. She let him, burying her face against his jacket, feeling his heat and wondering if she would ever warm.
Dear God, what would she do if Mary had harmed her son? How could she live through that?
Her breasts hurt, as if to accentuate the time away from her child. A way of nature reminding her that her infant needed to be fed.
Where was Robbie?
“She talked about baby farmers before,” Alex suddenly said.
She pulled back to look at him. Each movement seemed coated in pain, as if nature were preparing her for the worst of agonies, the loss of her child.
“She hinted that you might do such a thing.”
“I never would have,” she said. She would have starved before she gave up Robbie.
“I know. I knew it back then.”
She lay her head against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the carriage.
Terror slid down her throat to coil in her stomach.
“Save him,” she said. It was the only thing she could think of to say, the only request or command that made any sense. She didn’t doubt that Alex could rescue their child.
He pulled her hand over, placed a kiss on her knuckles, then rested it on his chest.
“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you, Lorna. I’m sorry for all the terrible things I’ve said. I’m sorry for the cruelty of others, some of them either in my employ or related to me. I should have spared you all that.”
“I will admit that while you’re godlike in many ways, Alex, you aren’t God.”
“Godlike?”
For the first time since they’d realized Robbie was missing, she felt amusement.
“We’ll discuss your godlike tendencies at another time,” she said.
Abruptly, the carriage pulled over to the side of the road.
“Have we caught up with them?” she asked.
Before Alex could answer, the door opened and Charles stood there in the rain.
“Sir, I can see Jeremy ahead. I know a shortcut, a way to make it to Inverness before him, but the road is bad and the journey won’t be pleasant.”
“Do what you have to do, Charle
s,” he said. “Just get us there.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” the driver said, shutting the door with a snap.
Their horses were transformed into cousins of Pegasus, their hooves barely touching the road as they flew. The wheels were a different matter, rattling with every rut and rock. She prayed they wouldn’t lose a wheel. Nothing must stop them from reaching Mary.
The carriage springs were no match for the terrain, and if she hadn’t been holding onto Alex and the strap above the window, she would have been tossed to the ceiling or the floor.
Fear kept her silent, but the thunder overhead would have made it impossible to talk even if she had something to say. The storm was following them from Blackhall, the lightning flashing every few minutes as they hurtled through the darkness.
Was Robbie frightened? Had Mary brought another servant with her to hold him? Was she being gentle with him? Had she thought to bring an extra blanket? The night chill, along with the storm, worried her. Mary wouldn’t care about Robbie’s health, not when she had terrible plans for him.
Would the authorities be called? Would Mary be arrested? Or, because Mary’s father was an earl and her brother-in-law a duke, would she be spared any punishment for her acts?
She’d never hated another human being. Some people annoyed her. A few had hurt her or left her confused about what she’d done to incur their anger. But hate was a black blob with gray and silver thorns she’d tried to avoid. But now she allowed herself to hate Mary Taylor.
The storm mocked them, the thunder an angry beast jealous that something else claimed their attention.
How would she survive if something happened to Robbie?
She had to be hopeful. She had to have faith. Somehow, they would save Robbie. Together, the two of them would save their child.
Terror was an ugly, sickly green color. Her stomach was rolling and she tasted something sour on the back of her tongue. She thought she might be sick any moment now. Her forehead was clammy and her feet felt like blocks of ice. Her fingertips were tingling. Panic kept her breathing shallow.
The jostling, jarring ride went on endlessly as they shot ahead of the storm. The thunder followed them at a distance, the faint growling sound almost petulant. Without the lightning, the darkness was complete.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before the carriage suddenly veered to the left so sharply she worried they might overturn.
Please God, let them reach Robbie. Please let him be okay.
Out the window, she saw the watery glare of a carriage lantern. They drew abreast of the other vehicle as Jeremy slowed. To her surprise, Charles pulled in front of the other carriage at an angle.
“Stay here,” Alec said. Before she could question or protest, he was out of the carriage and running toward the other vehicle.
Lightning suddenly hit the ground nearby, startling the horses. The storm had found them again, plucking them out of the darkness and illuminating the scene.
Alex and Charles had rushed the carriage and opened the door. By the light of the lamp, she saw Mary huddled in the corner, holding Robbie. She was screaming at them, but Lorna couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Instead, she heard Robbie’s crying, even over the rain.
Her nails dug into the leather window frame. Alex might want her to remain here, but she couldn’t. Seconds later she was out of the carriage, running toward Alex and her son.
The storm emptied the clouds above them, drenching her before she reached the other carriage.
Alex was now inside. Robbie was screaming, his face red with the effort. Mary turned away, blocking Alex’s efforts to take his son. She kicked out with her feet, but he didn’t hesitate, reaching out and pulling Robbie from her arms.
At that moment Mary saw her standing at the door.
“Why her?” she shouted. “Why not me? Why a maid, Alex? A maid? My family’s the equal of yours, but you have to go and bed a maid. Why her?”
“Because I love her,” he said, turning and handing Robbie to Lorna.
She draped her shawl over Robbie so he’d be spared the worst of the rain as she slowly made her way back to their carriage.
If Alex spoke further to Mary, she didn’t hear what he said. At the door, she glanced back to see Alex standing with Charles and Jeremy. The other carriage door was closed and Mary inside.
Once she and Robbie were in their carriage, Lorna dried her son with a corner of her shawl, crooning to him as he calmed.
Tears streamed down her face, but anyone would have been hard-pressed to distinguish her weeping from the rain. Her hair was sodden and her garments dripped.
When Alex joined her, he was drenched as well. Sitting beside her, he gazed down at Robbie. He placed his hand over the baby’s small body, a benediction of touch.
“When we get home, you’re having one of my teas,” she said, taking in his appearance. “You will not get sick. I refuse to allow it.”
His gaze flew to hers. “Now who is godlike?”
Reaching out, he brushed away her tears with his fingers.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
She shook her head, finding it impossible to answer that question. Relief? Joy that Robbie was safe? Gratitude?
“What is going to happen to her?” she asked.
“I told Jeremy to bring her back to Blackhall. I’ll summon the authorities there.”
She nodded.
“I hate her,” she said. “I don’t want to hate anyone, but it might take a while not to hate her.”
“Justice might go a long way to banishing your hatred.”
“Will she get it?”
“Yes,” he said.
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Instead, he looked down at her, his gaze intent.
“Yes, I did.”
“You love me?”
His smile was crooked and charming.
“Yes, I do. I’ve fought it for weeks, if not months. Maybe a year.”
“Is it something you have to fight against?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, it was. I didn’t stand a chance,” he said. “I was lost from the very beginning. I should have just stopped fighting immediately.”
She tilted her head and studied him.
“I haven’t the slightest idea if I should be offended or overwhelmed,” she said.
“I felt the same,” he said, “when you told me I was a prig. Shall I make it better?”
He turned to her, facing her directly.
“I love you, Lorna Gordon Russell, Duchess of Kinross.” He smiled. “There, is that better?”
“Infinitely,” she said.
After a silent moment passed, she smiled brightly. “You’re waiting for me to say it, aren’t you?”
He only raised one eyebrow at her, looking ducal and adorable.
“I love you, Your Grace,” she said softly.
He leaned forward and kissed her, only for their son to take that moment to fuss at both of them, fists flailing.
Epilogue
“What do you think, Your Grace?”
Peter was studying the new door he’d just installed between the sitting room and the adjacent guest room. For now it was going to be an impromptu nursery.
Lorna wasn’t comfortable with Robbie sleeping in the rooms allotted for the children of Blackhall on the third floor. One day it would be time to move him, but not now.
“I think it’s beautiful,” her mother-in-law said. “I like the carving you’ve done around the edge of the door. They’re herbs, aren’t they?”
He nodded, his cheeks turning a little pink.
“I think it’s lovely,” Lorna said.
“How’s the work going on the new apothecary?” Louise asked.
Alex decided that a small building on the grounds would be a better place for all her herbs and ingredients than the cottage or a room in t
he castle. The building had been constructed in the last few months. Peter and Mr. Stanton were completing the interior work of cabinets and worktables. There was even a small area for Robbie to play within sight of her mixing bench.
“It should be finished in a week or so, Your Grace,” Peter said. “All I’ve to do now is finish the chairs for the mixing table.”
Matthews entered the room with Robbie in his arms.
“What do you think, Matthews?” Lorna asked.
Of all the changes in the last six months, Matthews was perhaps the most surprising. He’d evolved from a gossipy, surly individual to her greatest defender. He credited her with getting his position back. She’d reasoned that everyone deserved a second chance, and besides, he’d helped find Robbie, so she’d talked to Alex about reconsidering his employment. Consequently, Matthews never failed to do or say something nice to her each day.
Even more astounding was that Robbie seemed to have developed an affection for the man. When Matthews passed the cradle or the blanket on which her son was crawling, Robbie would throw his arms up in the air so Matthews could pick him up. When he did, Robbie crowed excitedly, his dimples deepening as he gave Matthews’s cheek openmouthed kisses.
“It’s very attractive, Your Grace,” he said, handing Robbie off to her.
Her son babbled to them in a language only he understood.
She glanced at Robbie’s hands and smiled. Traces of soot remained on his fingertips. No matter how diligently Alex washed their son’s hands, she could always tell when he’d taken Robbie’s fingerprints.
“He’s done it again, hasn’t he, Matthews?”
The valet smiled. “Yes, Your Grace. He said it’s been a month since he’d taken them last.”
Alex was studying Robbie’s fingerprints as their son aged, trying to determine if a person’s prints altered with growth.
“A study that I intend to submit to the society,” he said.
She’d just shaken her head.
He’d received a judgment from the society that Simons’s discovery was still valid, despite Alex’s assertion that his own research had been mounted a good two years before the other man. When she questioned why he wasn’t more upset, he grabbed her and kissed her.