The Mysterious Lord Marlowe

by Anne Herries

  His visit had been so brief and interrupted by Andrew before they’d had a chance to talk. Her brother had asked him not to come to the house again, which meant that Jane would probably never see him again.

  A lump rose in her throat and tears stung her eyes, though she did not allow them to fall. Perhaps it was just as well. She could never have a future with George, even if he hinted he were willing—her friends and family simply wouldn’t allow it.

  Chapter Five

  ‘I can never thank you enough for what you have done for Mariah, Jane.’ Lucinda kissed her cheek. ‘You have nursed her devotedly this past week or more, and now she is well enough to come home to her family. Justin is on his way home and he will be so thankful to have her safe again. We are so grateful for all you have done.’

  ‘It was a pleasure,’ Jane said. ‘I am just sorry I could not do more. She might perhaps have been rescued sooner had I not interfered.’

  ‘And she might still have been lost had your friend not found her and brought her to you. I think we have much to thank you for—and this mysterious George. He was wrong to be involved in the affair in the first place, but had he not been we might never have found Mariah alive.’

  ‘She has not told us much of her ordeal,’ Jane said. ‘I think Blake meant to seduce her when he snatched her, but she fell ill and I believe he was frustrated in that intention. She seems much better today, though she is still very distressed, of course.’

  Jane glanced towards Mariah, who was saying goodbye to Andrew. He had given her a posy of flowers from the hot houses, as he had every day since she recovered her senses and lay resting in her bedchamber.

  Mariah came up to them then and offered her hand to Jane, who took it and held it to her cheek. ‘I can never thank you enough, Jane dearest. Andrew told me that you persuaded that man to search for me. Had he not found me—’ She shuddered. ‘I am fortunate to be alive for I should never have married him.’

  ‘Hush, you must try to forget what happened.’

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ Mariah said, a determined look in her eyes. ‘But I shall never forget what you and your brother have done for me.’

  ‘We have done nothing that you would not have done for me,’ Jane said and kissed her cheek. ‘We shall call and see how you are another day—shall we not, Andrew?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Certainly. You are very welcome, Lady Fanshawe. You have my word that we shall not rest until the rogue who harmed you is arrested and punished.’

  Mariah’s pretty colour left her cheeks for a moment, then she raised her head proudly, turned and followed Lucinda into the carriage.

  * * *

  ‘How is Mariah today? You said that the duke was home. Did he discover anything about Blake when he was in London?’ Jane asked the following afternoon when Andrew returned from a visit to Avonlea. ‘Are you any closer to finding him?’

  ‘We know that Blake was due for court-martial on a count of cheating at the card table and assaulting the wife of a fellow officer. He was cashiered, but disappeared before he could be tried. He is not received in decent society and may be in debt.’ Andrew looked angry. ‘Mariah has not told us much, but I think she knew him before her abduction. She told me that she blames herself for being careless. I think that must mean that he was an admirer at some time. Perhaps she fears she gave him reason to hope and the abduction was in part her own fault.’

  ‘I am very sure it was not. You should not jump to conclusions,’ Jane said and sighed. ‘What will you do now? Are you at home for a while—or have you some other business?’

  ‘I am not certain yet,’ Andrew said, a closed look in his eyes. ‘The affair that took me to Paris is not yet finished and I may be called on again.’

  ‘I suppose you do not mean to tell me what that business is?’ Jane saw the answer in his face and sighed. Her brother could be very secretive when he chose. ‘Well, I shall not tease you. Do you know what Mariah means to do next? Will she visit her husband’s relatives, as was planned before the abduction?’

  ‘She said that she had been invited to go on an extended trip to Italy with Lord and Lady Hubert, who were great friends of her late husband, and thinks she may accept their invitation. Apparently, Lady Hubert has a weak chest and cannot stand the English winters—which means Mariah would be away at least until late spring next year.’

  ‘That is a long time.’ There was an odd note in Andrew’s voice, causing Jane to look at him intently.

  ‘I thought you might be interested in Mariah yourself, Andrew?’ His gaze narrowed and she sensed frustration or anger. ‘Forgive me if I intrude. Perhaps I am wrong, but I thought you might care for her. You were much distressed by her disappearance.’

  ‘Naturally I was concerned by the abduction of a friend,’ Andrew said, glaring at her. ‘However, even if I did feel something warmer towards her, there are considerations—problems that must first be overcome before I could ask any woman to marry me.’

  ‘I see that you have something on your mind,’ Jane said. ‘Clearly, you do not wish to share your concerns with me.’

  ‘It is not that I do not wish to. I am sworn to secrecy, Jane, and should not have told you so much. Please do not plague me, for I shall say no more on the subject.’

  ‘Very well. I was merely concerned for the happiness of two people I care for.’

  Andrew was silent for a moment, then, ‘Avonlea says Mariah’s recovery owes much to your influence over that fellow George—if that is his name. The very fact that he brought her to you shows he respects you. He refused to give me his true name, Jane. I believe he may be in some danger from Blake himself. If that rogue guesses who took her from under his nose, he may try to take revenge.’

  ‘Yes, I believe you are right. I asked him to confide in you. Together, you might have tackled Blake much more easily.’

  ‘Well, I would have pressed him if you had not ordered me to fetch the doctor.’ Andrew looked thoughtful. ‘You have seemed in low spirits since you came home, Jane. Is there something you have not told me? George did not…You were not harmed in that way?’

  ‘If you are asking if I was dishonoured, the answer is no. George did something foolish for the sake of someone he cares for—but he is a gentleman and has his own code of honour. He did what he thought best—and who is to say he was wrong? Without his help both Mariah and I might have been lost.’

  ‘I am relieved.’ He frowned. ‘Why are you so quiet and unlike yourself?’

  ‘I have been busy looking after Mariah.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Andrew studied her. ‘It would do you good to stay with your godmother. Why will you not be sensible and accept her invitation?’

  ‘I shall think about it,’ Jane said. ‘I shall give you my decision this evening.’

  ‘Very well. I must speak with my bailiff about some estate matters.’ He hesitated, then, ‘You know I am grateful for all you did here when I was serving in the army, Jane. If anything should happen to me, you would be well provided for, my dear sister.’

  ‘Andrew! Why should anything happen to you?’

  ‘It very likely will not, Jane, but I shall not lie to you. There are those that would like to see me out of the way—and I am not speaking just of your infamous Captain Blake.’

  ‘You make me anxious for your safety.’

  ‘I am well able to take care of myself, but perhaps you will understand now why I wish you to stay with your godmother. If I am called upon, I must go and should be anxious for your sake if I were away from home, perhaps abroad. I intend to do all I can to help Avonlea find the man who abducted both you and Mariah—but there is another matter that may become urgent at any time.’

  ‘And of course you cannot tell me anything more. Very well, brother, I shall consider my godmother’s invitation and give you my answer this evening.’

  Sighing, she turned and went back into the house. It was an age since she had worked in her garden. The afternoon looked to be pleasant and she wanted to move so
me of the hyacinth bulbs, which had long since ceased to flower and would be best spread out from the clumps that had formed around the parent bulb. Now was the time to attend to these things before the cool of autumn turned to the bitter cold of winter.

  * * *

  Jane straightened up, putting a hand to her back. She had been on her knees in the garden for more than three hours, moving plants and bulbs to new beds. Her perennial borders were one of her chief pleasures and she had hoped her labour would lift this feeling of emptiness, but apart from the ache in her back she felt no different.

  She stood, gathered her basket and tools and turned towards the house. Andrew had just ridden into the courtyard at the back of the house, his business with the bailiff done for the day. She lifted her hand and waved to him.

  He waved back and then turned to the groom who had come to take his horse just as the shot rang out.

  A slight breeze on her cheek was all Jane felt as the ball passed her and buried itself in the trunk of a flowering cherry. She gave a cry and whirled round, looking for the source of the shot.

  Andrew charged towards her as she stood transfixed, swaying, her face white with shock. He drew his pistol and fired in the direction of the tall shrubbery from whence the shot had been fired.

  ‘Damn the rogue,’ he said. ‘I should go after him. Are you all right, Jane?’

  ‘Yes. Go after him, but take care,’ she whispered, then made a little murmur and fainted into his arms.

  * * *

  When Jane stirred and opened her eyes a minute or two later, she was lying on the sofa in their parlour. Andrew was bending over her and the housekeeper was waving a burnt feather under her nose. She coughed at the acrid smoke and sat up as her senses returned.

  ‘You should have left me and gone after him,’ she said. ‘It must have been Blake.

  George said he might try to kill me if he discovered where we live.’

  ‘You fainted. I could not desert you,’ her brother said. ‘Blake will keep for another day, Jane.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps you should go to the magistrate and set up a hue and cry.’

  ‘I have my own plans,’ Andrew told her and frowned. ‘One of which includes you, miss. Tomorrow I shall escort you to Lady Mary’s house in London. You will be safer there. I am not going to take no for an answer. You will go to your godmother tomorrow, Jane—and there’s an end to it.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jane sat up carefully. Her faintness had gone, but she still felt a little shaken. The shot had taken her by complete surprise. During her flight with George she had known Blake might try to kill her if he found her, but she had begun to feel safe at home.

  Somehow Blake had found her. He might even know that George had brought Mariah to her—and he was clearly determined on revenge. She wasn’t sure if the shot had been a warning or simply gone wide, but Andrew was right. She was not safe here. ‘Yes, I may as well go. I shall be safer in London. Be careful, Andrew.

  Now you know how ruthless he is—he might kill you if you get in his way.’

  ‘He may try,’ Andrew replied grimly. ‘If I find him, I shall not wait for him to shoot first, believe me. He is destined for the hangman’s noose after what he did to Mariah—and to you. I thought to hand him over to the law, but after this…’

  ‘Be careful, Andrew,’ Jane said. ‘You could end up in prison yourself.’

  ‘At least that rogue would not bother you or Mariah again.’

  ‘But you still have to find him.’

  ‘Avonlea has hired a Bow Street Runner. I am going to do the same. While Blake remains at large he is a danger to both you and Mariah—perhaps to all of us.’

  ‘George told me he will not give up the search.’ Jane sighed. ‘If only he had told me where we could contact him. He might know something that would help you.’

  Andrew’s gaze narrowed. ‘I hope you have not formed an attachment to that rogue, Jane? I should never agree to anything between you.’

  ‘Do not be ridiculous,’ Jane replied too hastily. ‘I hardly know him. If you will excuse me, I shall go up and pack. I just hope that my godmother will be pleased to see me without notice.’

  She walked away from her brother, knowing that he was staring after her. Had she given herself away? She could not help thinking of George even though she told herself it was foolish. He would not wish to meet her again—and if he did so, it might bring him into danger.

  Besides, she had long ago decided never to marry. Accustomed to living alone with only her brother’s servants and meeting her friends as and when she chose, she had become very independent. It irked her that she must obey her brother and for the first time she considered whether she might do better to find herself a small house in Bath and take a companion. Andrew had never been dominant, giving her her own way in most things, but there was no doubt that his temper was shorter these days.

  Jane’s eyes stung with tears. She was over the shock of being fired at in her own garden, but the feeling of loss and emptiness would not leave her.

  Perhaps in London she would find solace in making new friends.

  * * *

  ‘Of course I am glad to see you,’ Lady Mary Sommers said as she embraced Jane. ‘I am always happy to see you. Andrew said you had been distressed over a distasteful incident. You must put whatever it was behind you, my love. My friends are all from the very best society and you will suffer no unpleasant incidents in my company.’

  ‘No, I am very sure I shall not,’ Jane said and kissed her cheek. Andrew had clearly not told her of the abduction or the attempt on her life, for which she was grateful. It would be best not to have these things talked of. ‘I am glad to be here and sorry I did not come before.’

  ‘Well, no doubt you had your reasons, dear child. I know your first Season was a disappointment.’

  ‘Well, if you recall, I developed a chill and had to go home.’

  ‘You know I should like to see you settled, dearest. Andrew will marry one day and you will not want to be a maiden aunt staying in a house where you are not truly needed. However, you may always come and stay with me so there is no rush to form an attachment.’

  ‘Even if there were haste, I could not conjure a suitor out of thin air,’ Jane said and laughed. ‘I have thought about the eventuality, you know. If Andrew decides to marry, I shall rent a house in Bath and take a companion to lend me countenance. I might do so sooner if I find someone suitable I can like.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ her godmother said and frowned. ‘You are not in your dotage yet, Jane. You need a little town bronze, my love. I have no engagements for three days. Plenty of time to have some new gowns made—at least one and others ordered. You are attractive and your nature is lovely. I am certain you could find a suitable husband should you wish it.’

  ‘Well, we shall not pull caps over it,’ Jane said with an affectionate smile. ‘If a man with good humour, a reasonable fortune and a pleasant face offers for me, I will engage to at least think about my answer for all of one hour.’

  ‘You are a minx, miss,’ Lady Mary said and laughed at the jest. ‘If the gentlemen knew you as I do, they would fall over themselves to offer for you, Jane. I think you would make any man a good and generous wife. You have an even temper and get on with things without making a fuss. I do not know why you have not married before this, my dear. However, I have not given up hope of seeing you happy.’

  ‘I am perfectly content.’ Jane knew she was lying as she spoke. She had been content with her life, but that was before she had been abducted and rescued by a gentleman she could not dismiss from her thoughts.

  * * *

  ‘I think the gown you have chosen delightful,’ Lady Mary said as their carriage drove back to Russell Square after a successful afternoon shopping in the very best emporiums. ‘You were lucky to find those evening slippers, dearest. The colour is exactly the right shade.’

  ‘Yes, I believe they will go very well.’ Jane’s attention wandered as she glanced through the carriage
window and saw a man walking down the street. She stared very hard as they passed him. It was difficult to be sure, but her heart was hammering against her ribs because she believed it was the man she knew as George. What was he doing in London? He looked very different from when she had last seen him, his clothes fashionable and expensive. Weston’s establishment must have made his coat, and he looked a man of fashion and stature. Could he possibly be the same man that had helped her escape from her abductors?

  ‘What is wrong, Jane? You look shocked—as if you had seen a ghost.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Jane replied. ‘I thought I saw someone I knew, but I may have been mistaken.’

  George—if it was he—had been escorting a very beautiful lady with blonde curls peeping from beneath her chip-straw bonnet. Who was she—and what was she to him?

  Jane was aware of an unworthy feeling of jealousy. The lady was unknown to her, but she was certainly very lovely—and she had been smiling up at her companion in a confident and intimate manner.

  She was being so foolish! Jane could not even be sure the man she had glimpsed was George—and even if it had been, he was at liberty to escort whomever he chose about town.

  This was ridiculous! She had come to London in the hopes of forgetting her unhappy thoughts and the unpleasant incident that had started all this self-doubt. She had been mistaken and the man had been someone quite different. Why would George be in town? He had told her he intended to continue his search for Blake. Why then was he escorting a beautiful lady through the heart of Bond Street?

  She made up her mind to put George and all the events of the past few weeks from her mind. It would be best for Jane to forget the man she had begun to like rather too well and concentrate on enjoying her stay in town.

  * * *

  ‘You look quite lovely, my dear,’ Lady Mary said as they were preparing to attend a dinner given by the prince at Carlton House the next evening. ‘You were a little insipid as a girl, if you do not mind me saying so—too quiet and easily pleased. Maturity suits you, Jane. Your character has developed and it shows. Besides, you are wearing rich colours, which suit you much better than the pastels you wore as a girl.’