His wife lovingly placed her hand upon his. “We must listen to them, Broderick. It is their lives, their marriages.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked over at his daughter. “Why, allow me to ask, Daughter, have you waited until now to inform me you do not wish to marry Cortland? And what makes you believe he does not wish to marry you? Has he said something? Done anything? I will kill him!”
Lady Eleanor sat up straight upon hearing his words. “I had thought the couple’s feelings were in the past, but it is possible…Perhaps they never stopped loving one another. They were nearly betrothed years ago…” She then went on to tell him of the season of 1815 and the circumstances which had ended the young romance.
“I knew it!” Lady Natalie said out loud. Danbury glanced sideways at her, cocking one eyebrow and putting his finger to his lips as though to shush her.
The room fell silent for a moment as they all absorbed this new information.
Finally, shaking his head from side to side, the earl made a decision. “That is neither here nor there. We have a betrothal. Contracts are signed. We have one scandal on our hands, and we don’t need another. The viscount can marry Lady Beauchamp, and everybody will just damn well have to learn to get on together. Where is that gel anyway? Shouldn’t she be back by now?”
Lady Eleanor asked the maid to check in Lilly’s room and for Jarvis to check the garden. When both returned and reported her still absent, an aura of concern descended upon the room.
The issues which had come into the open would be set aside so the gentlemen could go in search of Lady Beauchamp. Most likely, she was simply wandering in the park. But be that as it may, it would be best to locate her and assure themselves of her safety. Lady Eleanor appeared very tense as they discussed where they would search.
Danbury and the earl told her not to worry and then both disappeared onto the streets of Mayfair themselves.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Missing
Michael strode toward his London town house, satisfied that he was finally taking matters into his own hands. Lilly would not face this alone. He broke into a run.
His town house was a mile or so away, and he was suddenly overcome with an unwavering need to see Lilly. To hold her.
To claim her.
They’d wasted too much time already.
Vendors and pedestrians looked at him curiously as he sprinted past. It was not every day a gentleman of the aristocracy was seen dashing headlong through the streets of Mayfair. One old woman selling flowers shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Don’t those nobs have horses and whatnot to get them about town? Never did understand the quality.”
When Michael arrived home, he called for Duncan, took a quick bath, and stood fidgeting as his valet finished tying his cravat.
Both his and Lilly’s futures were at stake.
He knew he could make her happy, but would she allow it?
After a glance in the mirror, Michael made a quick stop in his study, going directly to his safe. Behind several documents and a stack of pound notes sat a box containing his mother’s most valuable jewels.
Michael hastily opened the velvet-lined case and searched around until locating what he wanted. The stone in the ring was a princess-cut, three-carat yellow diamond in a setting made of twisted platinum. It was the ring he’d always planned on giving her. The night they met, he’d instantly recalled it. The diamond shone like her eyes, and the metal was the color of her hair. He’d never even considered giving it to Lady Natalie. It would have reminded him of what never was…
Shoving it into his pocket, he carefully returned the case to the safe and turned the knob, resetting the lock. He’d ordered his carriage brought around earlier, so it was ready and waiting as he exited.
Lumbering through the cobbled streets toward Curzon Street, he breathed deeply. He was ready for this. He’d been ready for nearly a decade.
There would be no more delay.
The driver covered the short distance quickly, and as the carriage came to a halt, Michael pushed the door open and jumped down to the sidewalk. Skipping every other step, he dashed up to the all-too-familiar doorway and rang the bell.
Jarvis answered quickly, as though waiting for somebody. He looked behind Michael, and upon seeing no one, asked, “She isn’t with you, Your Grace?”
A sense of unease swept over him. “Who, Jarvis?”
Jarvis’s thick black eyebrow lowered in concern. “Lady Beauchamp. She left on foot, hours ago, and has not returned.” The man’s hands gripped one another. He poked his head outside again, looking both up and down the street. “My lady was hoping she had gone to you.”
Just then Miss Beauchamp stepped into the foyer. She had obviously been crying. Her eyes were swollen and her nose, quite red. “Oh, Your Grace. She has been gone for hours! I didn’t mean it when I told her I hated her,” she wailed. “I was so dreadful, and now nobody knows where she has gone.”
Beginning to comprehend the situation, Michael took the distressed young woman’s hands in his and looked her in the eyes. “Did she take a maid or a footman with her? Did she take Miss Fussy?”
Lady Eleanor stepped out of the room behind Glenda. “She did not. Come inside, Your Grace. We have been awaiting her return for quite some time now.” The previously unshakeable lady looked around the room anxiously. “We thought she had merely gone for a walk. She was deeply troubled by that dreadful article.” Pulling the drape aside, she peered out the window, frowning in concern. “After waiting for her for quite some time, Ravensdale and Danbury went searching. She left nearly three hours ago.”
A woman, a lady, walking around London alone was vulnerable to any manner of vile attacks. She’d been gone for almost three hours.
Three hours!
Was it possible she was merely meandering in the park? Making a quick decision, Michael turned back toward the door. “I am going to the park to find her. If she was upset, she would have headed for the gardens. I have two outriders and my driver to come with me. I’ll leave one of them here to fetch me if Danbury and Ravensdale are successful. If—when—I find her, I will return immediately as well.” With that, he left as abruptly as he’d arrived.
Instead of climbing into the carriage this time, he jumped onto the driver’s seat. As they pulled into traffic, Michael described the situation to John, and they devised a plan for an efficient search. Lilly was distraught and alone. Michael ran his hand through his hair trying not to imagine the worst.
****
By the time Lilly’s panic subsided, she had wandered unthinkingly to her favorite garden in Hyde Park. The statues and fountains reminded her of the beautiful grounds at London Hills Manor. No, she mustn’t allow herself to think of London Hills Manor. There would be plenty of time to dwell on that later.
The shadows were long on the ground, and the sun no longer high in the sky. She must have been walking for hours. She sat down, ruefully. Her aunt must be terribly worried. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d left so abruptly, with no word of where she was going or when she would return. At first, she had been so angry, she had been completely unaware of her surroundings. Words had repeated themselves over and over in her mind. Words from her father. Words from Lord Beauchamp. Words even from Michael.
She had made a decision; she would no longer be manipulated by guilt. She was not going to be forced into another marriage—to anybody. She was not going to live in shame either.
Upon signing the marriage contracts for Glenda, she had been given a nonreturnable installment on her annuity. She would take it and leave if she must. She was more than sorry for causing her aunt and niece scandal and pain, but neither knew what it was like to be an unwanted wife.
If Joseph Spencer would not fight for Glenda, then perhaps they ought not to marry anyway.
Lilly would not do it again. She’d endured enough for a lifetime. It was time to inform her family a
nd the Spencers of her resolution.
Having come to terms with what must be done, she suddenly felt exhausted. She would cut over to Kensington Road and hail a hack to take her back to her aunt’s home. But before she could flag one down, as she stepped off the path onto the sidewalk, an unfamiliar crested carriage came to a halt beside her.
“Is that you, Lady Beauchamp?”
It was the Earl of Hawthorn—a rather bruised and bloodied Hawthorn, but the earl nonetheless. Looking around nervously, she tentatively approached the carriage. “It is, my lord.”
Hawthorn smiled at her and indicated the cloth he held up to his nose. “Don’t mind this, my lady. I have just come from your aunt’s home. I stopped to offer my apology, as demanded by His Grace, and was informed she has had some sort of attack. I told them I would help find you and return you there as soon as possible.”
“No!” Lilly gasped. “She is unwell?” This was too much!
Dear, dear Aunt Eleanor had only ever offered her kindness. And now she suffered due to Lilly’s own stupid stubbornness. It was nearly enough to shatter her resolution.
The earl and one of his riders assisted her into the carriage. Settling in, she did her best to refrain from panicking. “Please, oh please, hurry,” she begged. She sat in the carriage and looked down at her hands as the earl gave instructions to his driver outside. The footman handed him something and then climbed into the carriage behind the earl.
A footman inside of a carriage was highly unusual. Seeing the earl’s expression, she suddenly had second thoughts about accepting this man’s assistance.
“Oh, we will, my lady. We will.” And then, raising one hand, he pointed a gun directly at her.
Her instincts had kicked in thirty seconds too late.
Just as she began screaming, the footman placed a scarf into her mouth and tied another behind her head. The earl leaned forward and pressed the gun between her breasts.
“Best not to struggle, my lady. I have nothing to lose by ending your life today. I won’t hesitate to do so if you give me too much trouble.”
The mad look in his eyes lent truth to his promise.
Lilly stilled. Staring back at the earl, she attempted to calm herself and analyze her situation. As she did so, the footman tied her hands uncomfortably behind her.
The footman then crouched on the floor to tie her feet. As he did so he pushed her dress up to her knees. When he was done, the earl turned the gun on his own employee. “Hand me your other pistol,” he ordered.
With an uncertain look in his eyes, the servant obeyed and turned over the weapon.
“You ought to know better than to touch a lady that way,” he said. “Damned animals—every one of you.” He spat at the man and then shot him right between the eyes.
****
Michael found himself running past pedestrians for the second time that day but did not stop until he reached the gardens he knew Lilly loved. Breathing heavily, he looked around frantically. She wasn’t here!
But she must be!
He’d been so certain he knew where she had gone!
Bang!
A loud cracking sound echoed off the nearby marbled gazebo. Recognizing a gunshot, Michael leapt over a concrete bench and raced toward the street. It sounded as though it had come from Kensington Road.
He didn’t want to believe it had anything to do with Lilly, but an ominous foreboding filled him at the sound. Guns were not often fired in Hyde Park.
As Michael drew nearer to the road, a flurry of venders and park goers were ogling a carriage racing away at a dangerously high speed.
Accosting a sweeper who stood on the curb with his broom, Michael demanded, “What did you see? What happened here?”
The sweeper wiped his mouth before speaking. “I think the bloke ‘at took off with the lady were a nobleman. She seemed willing enough but let out a scream once she were inside wit’ ’im.”
Fear coursed through him. “What did she look like?” Michael demanded.
“Pretty li’l thing. She ’ad the most unusual ’air, not silver, but not yellow like, either.”
“And the carriage, what did it look like?”
“Oh, it was fine, sir. That’s ’ow I guessed it was one o’ you lords. ’Ad one o’ them fancy designs on it.”
A crest. The Earl of Hawthorn.
It had to be. It was the only possible explanation. The man was insane and today, in a fit of temper, Michael had pushed him over the edge!
Michael hailed a hackney and returned to where he’d left his driver. He would need help if he were to save her from the earl.
And then the horrible, unthinkable truth hit him.
It was possible she was already injured, or worse. Where had the pistol been aimed when the shot was fired? He forced the thought from his mind. He could not, would not allow his thoughts to go in that direction.
He arrived back at the Sheffield town house to find Ravensdale and Danbury had returned ten minutes earlier. Michael was ushered into the drawing room where a number of concerned faces turned to look at him hopefully.
Mr. Joseph Spencer stood behind his fiancée who was sitting on the loveseat holding lady Eleanor’s hand tightly. Lady Natalie sat beside her mother. Danbury stood by the window. Lord Ravensdale was pacing the room like a caged tiger. They all looked at him expectantly.
“She has been kidnapped,” he told them. “She may be injured.”
****
After Hawthorn shot the footman, Lilly’d taken one look at the dead man’s lifeless eyes and fainted.
Now, gradually regaining her lucidity, she realized the danger of her predicament. Not wishing to attract the earl’s attention, she carefully peeked from under her eyelashes. Hawthorn was slumped in his seat, watching out the window. The carriage jostled and bounced uncomfortably. They were travelling at such a high rate of speed, Lilly feared they might tip over at the slightest turn. She worried for the horses. They wouldn’t last long at this pace. Even as she contemplated the animals, the coach lurched with the crack of the driver’s whip.
A man as wicked as Hawthorn ought not be allowed to own animals.
Lilly was ever so grateful she had not taken Miss Fussy with her when she’d left the house. Thinking about Miss Fussy, she nearly began crying.
She hadn’t shed a single tear all day, but the thought of dying and leaving her pet alone horrified her.
Hawthorn looked up and caught her watching him. “My apologies for the footman’s disrespectful handling of you, my lady.” He seemed oddly regretfully but still held one of the guns loosely between his hands. Another weapon lay on the floor by his feet. “No lady ought to suffer the touch of the working class.”
Lilly wasn’t sure how to respond to his statement. The man was not of sound mind. The look in his eyes was dispassionate, void.
She tried to speak but could not. She’d forgotten about the gag tied around her mouth. Once aware of it, though, it was all she could focus on. Suddenly, she could not get enough air into her lungs. She took deep breaths through her nose attempting not to panic.
The earl reached forward and tugged the handkerchief out of her mouth and below her chin. Lilly gasped gratefully.
“Please, don’t scream,” he said tiredly. His shoulders were slumped. He looked tired.
“I won’t.” She wanted only to keep him calm.
“It’s not that I wish to harm you, but I’ve run out of options.”
“Options?” she pressed.
“If Cortland changes the Corn Laws, England will cease to exist as we know it. The duke is misguided in his attempt to ease up on the masses. The peasants, the crofters, the lower classes must be kept in their place. They have begun revolting against their betters, and we cannot allow this.”
“But what have I to do with any of this?”
“The duke is in love with you. He thinks he has beaten me, but he will learn…Yes, he ought to have listened to me all along. A man in love will do nearly anything.”
“How do you know?”
“I was in love once. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Loved my wife.” He dropped his eyes to stare at the gun. “She’s dead now, though. Died during childbirth. Killed by my heir.” Lilly briefly remembered what her aunt had said about Hawthorn’s son, Lord Castleton. No wonder the man was something of a hellion. He had a lunatic for a father who blamed him for his mother’s death.
Lilly didn’t ask any more questions, allowing Hawthorn to remain lost in his thoughts. Better for him to focus on anything but her. She’d been silently attempting to loosen the length of rope around her wrists. Since they were tied behind her back, the earl was unaware of her movements.
Coming out of his reverie, he eyed her once again. “The duke will come after you. And when he does, I will have to kill him.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would come to this…But you see, I cannot let him win. If he wins, all of England loses. Generations of noble families over hundreds of years have been procreating to establish a civilized human race. It is inconceivable that it could all be for naught.”
Lilly weighed her words carefully before responding to this. “The duke will not come for me. You are wrong. Even if he loves me, as you say, he will not come. What you do not understand is I am not a priority in the duke’s life.” She spoke the words fervently. Were they true? A duke’s honor was not to be compromised for anything—even love. “His Grace would not dishonor himself by breaking his word to Lady Natalie. The duke will stay in London until the vote is taken, and afterwards he will wed his fiancée.”
The earl’s face contorted in rage. “Shut up!” He lifted the gun and pointed it directly at her again. His hands shook. Lilly closed her eyes and prayed. Was this to be her last moment on earth? She waited to hear the shot of the gun. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes again.
The earl seemed to be having difficulty breathing. Dropping the gun to the floor, he clutched at his left shoulder and winced in pain. “Don’t speak of such things. You don’t know what you are talking about. The amendment will fail.” He closed his eyes, and his skin began turning white.
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