Lizzie took a quick peek at Lord Wycliff, who sat with his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Oh, lord, there went her employment. “I don’t know what you expect, my lord. What is it you wish me to say?” Perhaps that was an understated question, but one did have to start somewhere when one’s brain was muddled.
Hawkins ran his fingers through his hair and turned to Wycliff. “May I have a few moments alone with Lady Elizabeth? There are sensitive government matters we need to discuss.”
His request cut through Lord Wycliff’s shock. Her employer shook his head, as if coming out of a dream, and stood. “Of course. I will be in my library.” He glanced in her direction—more questions on his face than condemnation—bowed and left the room, taking the footman with him. He closed the door gently, but the tension in the room caused Lizzie to jump when the latch snapped, as if he’d fired a pistol.
Lizzie had almost begged Lord Wycliff not to leave her with the ferocious-looking Lord Hawkins. Although she had no worries that he would physically harm her, he did look angry enough to make her wish to disappear.
Hawkins studied her for a minute, but she refused to fidget under his regard and remained still, her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast.
“Lizzie, look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes and wished she hadn’t. The anger radiating from him, along with the letter fisted in his hand, deflated the little bit of courage she’d managed to dredge up. “Yes, my lord?”
“I assume from Wycliff’s reaction that no one in this household knows your true identity?”
“That would be a correct assumption, my lord.”
“And you saw nothing wrong with pretending to be someone else? Not allowing these generous people to know they were harboring a wanted woman?”
Lizzie squirmed in her seat. Yes, Lord Hawkins had managed to reduce her to a fidgeting bundle of nerves. “I did nothing wrong, my lord. To my knowledge, when I accepted the position I was not a wanted woman. I told the authorities when they first questioned me that I knew nothing of my father’s affairs.” She took a deep breath. “Since my Season was effectively over, I thought it would be in my best interest to disappear.”
Hawkins pushed back his chair and stood, startling her even more. He began to pace, the letter still clenched in his hand. “This letter was forwarded to me from my London townhome. It is from the Home Secretary. The message says the Home Office has discovered that Lady Elizabeth Munro, daughter of the late Earl of Loverly, has taken up employment in my cousin’s home.
“The missive asks me to travel to Wycliff Estates and bring Lady Elizabeth back to London to be questioned by the Home Office.”
Lizzie jumped from her seat and headed for the door. She had to get out of here. The authorities had not believed her the first time, and after her disappearance they would never believe her. The thought of spending even one night in Newgate scared her enough that she considered running again.
She made it to the exit just as Hawk’s hand slapped the door before she could open it. “Do not attempt to leave.”
Panic and anger overwhelmed her at his icy tone. “You don’t understand, my lord. They will throw me into prison.”
He turned to block the door and pointed to her chair. “Sit.”
With shaky legs, she returned to her seat. Gone was the flirting, rakish earl she’d come to know over the past week. In his place was a terrifying officer of the Crown.
Hawkins drew up the chair alongside her and sat. He took her ice-cold hands in his warm ones. “First of all, they will not put you into prison. That is, unless you conspired with your father.”
She drew back, her eyes wide. “No. No. No. No.” She shook her head, and the tears welled in her eyes.
“Lizzie, I would have the absolute truth from you.” He spoke softly, but his tone was hard. This was not the friendly man who had taken her to the village, or who had carried her home after she was thrown from Magpie. This man was not going to be swayed by tears and female swooning.
“I knew nothing about it until right before he was caught.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped speaking. She lowered her head, her chin quivering. If she did not calm herself, it would only make things worse.
Hawkins dipped his head so he could see her eyes. “I will not bring you to London until I am sure there is something you know that might help their investigation. Treason is a very serious crime, as you are well aware, and if there were other people involved in your father’s activities, it is very important for the Crown to pursue this.”
Lizzie pulled free from Hawkins and swiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I assure you, my lord. I know nothing. The night my father fled England was the first time I learned anything about this.
“There were whispers at a few balls I had attended earlier that week, but nothing that made me believe it had anything to do with my father.
“How is it—” She cleared her throat since the words came out a squeak. “How is it they found me?”
Hawk stood and rested his hands on his hips. “If the Home Office has any reason to believe a traitor has not been identified, no matter how long ago the crime, they will continue their investigation.”
Lizzie nodded and took a deep breath, dreading the answer she might receive. “What will you do now, my lord?” She looked up at him, at his rock-hard chin, tightened lips, and piercing deep brown eyes.
“For the present, nothing.”
She would have breathed a sigh of relief if she truly thought nothing would come of this. But she had no expectations that Lord Hawkins cared one whit about what happened to her. “I see.”
“You do realize this presents new questions as to why your saddle was tampered with.”
“Why? No one knows who I am. Well, no one until that letter arrived.” She gestured with her head toward the missive still in his hand.
“We cannot be sure about that. Are you certain you know nothing about your father’s activities? Anything he might have mentioned that you didn’t think much of at the time? Any letters or missives he attempted to hide from you? Names he might have mentioned that you had not heard before?”
Lizzie thought back to the time it had all happened. Until the night her father had told her what he’d done and the reason why, she had lived in a rose-colored world. All her time and attention had been taken up with balls, parties, gowns, and slippers. Foolish girl that she’d been.
What had hurt the most was when she’d demanded to know why he’d done such a thing and he had finally admitted he was penniless, and the money he’d received for selling secrets had paid for her Season.
She had been mortified and had been plagued with guilt ever since.
“Nothing I can think of, but you must understand, I had no reason to believe anything nefarious was going on.”
He continued to stare at her until she was shifting in her seat again.
“Very well.”
She stood, hoping her legs would hold her up. But she had to leave the room before she either screamed or burst into hysterical tears. She rubbed her forehead where her headache had returned with a vengeance. “I have duties to attend to, my lord. May I be excused?”
He gave her a curt nod. “Since I have been charged by the Home Secretary with returning you to London, I must insist you remain in the house until I determine what is to be done.”
Gathering her skirts about her, she nodded and swept past him. Once she was on the other side of the breakfast room door, she leaned against it and took a deep breath. She fought to keep her breakfast down. Dear Lord, what do I do now?
She hurried past the library, not wishing to engage in conversation with Lord Wycliff. What she really did not want to hear was that her employment had come to an end.
After a quick wash to her face and hands, hoping it would help calm her nerves, she made her way to the nursery to lose her mind in dealing with the children.
When Lizzie entered the drawing room in anticipation o
f dinner, Lord Hawkins and Lord Wycliff were engaged in a deep conversation that ceased the moment they spotted her. They both bowed in her direction. “Good evening, my lady.”
Well. So, they were acknowledging her title. All the fear and questions she’d managed to put aside while she dealt with reading, arithmetic, history, and geography now rose to the forefront. This was the first time she was in the company of Lord and Lady Wycliff since Hawkins had received his letter.
“Good evening, my lords, my lady.” She dipped her usual curtsy.
Lady Wycliff patted the seat next to her. “Join me, Lizzie.”
Her stomach muscles tightened as she made her way across the room. She had barely settled in the settee when Lord Hawkins handed her a glass of sherry that she had not asked for. Did he know there was something afoot that she need brace herself with liquor? “Thank you.”
He nodded and returned to Lord Wycliff.
“Needless to say, I was quite taken back when Lord Hawkins revealed your background.” Lady Wycliff’s demeanor revealed nothing of her thoughts.
Oh, lord. Here it comes. “I am sorry, but you do understand we must dismiss you?”
She might as well go down fighting. “I am sorry for the subterfuge, my lady. I had nowhere to turn once my father left England, and Lady Franklin was good enough to help me out. Please do not hold her responsible. She was merely doing me a favor.”
Lady Wycliff took a sip of her sherry. “His lordship and I have not decided what to do yet. Lord Hawkins tells us he is corresponding with the Home Office to gather more information.” She patted Lizzie’s hand. “You are, of course, welcome to continue with your work, if you so desire.”
Relief flooded her. “Oh, indeed, I do, my lady.”
Lady Wycliff nodded. “Then we will see what happens over the next few days. I believe Lord Hawkins sent his missive to the Home Secretary by special carrier.”
Lizzie’s stomach sunk. What would the Home Office tell him? Would they insist he honor their demand and drag her back to London? He’d said he would not allow her to go to prison, but he obviously had superiors at the Home Office who might order him to do so.
“Thank you, my lady.”
Smith entered and announced dinner. Lord Hawkins extended his elbow to Lizzie. “My lady.”
It was rather odd being addressed as “lady” after two years of simply “Miss Moore.”
She was on tenterhooks throughout the meal. She remained quiet, allowing those around her to converse. Several times she looked up at Lord Hawkins to find him studying her, his expression bland. The man would make a great spy. But then again, perhaps he was.
Once dinner had ended the four of them strolled to the drawing room. Instead of taking her usual seat, she addressed Lady Wycliff. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I would prefer an early evening.”
“Yes, of course.” She smiled brightly at her, easing some of the tension in Lizzie’s body.
Not enough of a release, though.
Lizzie climbed the stairs to her bedchamber and pulled out her satchel from underneath the bed. She gathered the clothes from her armoire and drawers and swept the bottles and jars from the top of her dressing table into a smaller bag.
With a heavy heart, she pinned the money she had saved into the bodice of her dress and pulled on her pelisse. She sat very still and studied the small pink and white china clock on the dresser across the room. Once the clock struck one o’clock in the morning, and she’d not heard any voices or noises from the rest of the house for some time, she stood and picked up her satchels.
Quietly, she made her way down the stairs, avoiding the front door, where one of the footmen stood. The corridor past the kitchens brought her to the back door. Quietly, she released the latch and stepped out into the night air.
Chapter Eleven
“She’s gone.” Hawk strode into the breakfast room, startling Lord Wycliff, who put his coffee cup down with enough clatter to draw the footman’s attention.
“Calm down, man. I assume you mean Lady Elizabeth?”
“The very one. The children’s nurse was looking for her. She asked if I had seen her. When I went to her bedchamber and there was no response, I entered. All her belongings are missing.”
“The poor girl must be terrified if she ran off like that.”
“Terrified or guilty.” Hawk dragged out a chair and sat. “You do understand I must go after her? Since the only people aware of her whereabouts were a select few in the Home Office, there is a good chance it was one of them who made the attempt on her life.”
“For what purpose?”
He picked up his cup of coffee and regarded Wycliff over the rim. “I’ve given this some thought, and I’ve concluded that someone at the Home Office must have been the person working with Loverly. He felt safe once she disappeared because if she had any information damaging to him, she took it with her.”
Wycliff blew out air between his teeth. “I hadn’t thought of that. The girl could be in serious trouble.”
“Exactly.” Hawk filled his plate from the dishes on the table. “My theory is once the Home Office uncovered her location, Loverly’s cohort sent someone here to kill her before I could bring her back. Since the missive had been sent first to London, and then forwarded, they had no way of knowing I was already here.
“Do you have an idea where she might have gone? I have to find her before whoever is interested in doing away with her does.”
His cousin thought for a moment. “I have no idea. I can question Leah. She might have some information.”
“Do governesses generally befriend each other? Is there some type of gathering or organization for them? Maybe she made friends with another governess to whom she might turn.”
Wycliff shook his head. “No. In fact, we invited her to several events over the two years she’s worked for us, but she always declined.”
“No doubt afraid of someone recognizing her.”
They finished their meal in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Hawk wiped his mouth, then pushed back his chair and stood. “I am going after her, and when I find her, I will bring her to Hawkins Manor. My mother can act as chaperone while I investigate what is going on.”
He rested his hand on Wycliff’s shoulder. “I hate to depart with your governess since you are both so happy with her, but I do not believe she is safe here.”
“That is probably for the best, since whoever tampered with her saddle would not know where she’s gone.”
Hawk nodded. “I will have my man pack everything up and travel to London in my carriage, which is where anyone watching the house will expect me to go. If the carriage is being watched, Macon can take care of himself. My driver and tiger are also equipped with firearms. With your permission, I will take one of your horses and see that he is returned as soon as I find Lizzie, I mean Lady Elizabeth.”
Wycliff nodded. “I am sorry your visit was cut short. I am even more sorry that Miss Moore—rather, Lady Elizabeth—will no longer be in our employ. We were, indeed, quite satisfied with her.”
“Yes. I understand, and deeply regret that. Please give my regards and apologies to Lady Wycliff.”
Hawk spent the morning questioning every shop in the village. He had checked earlier with Lennon and determined no horses were missing, which meant Lizzie was on foot. What a risk she was taking with someone attempting to do away with her. He pushed aside the guilt at that, since right now the poor girl was probably more terrified of him than she was of some unknown assailant.
His first break came when he spoke to the owner of The Purple Cow, where he and Lizzie had shared ale a few days before. The proprietor told Hawk he’d seen a young woman, dragging two satchels, climb aboard the stagecoach that stopped at the pub twice a week. It had left several hours ago. The owner could not say for certain it was Lizzie whom he’d seen, since the woman’s face was covered with a veil, but his description of her pelisse and figure fit Lizzie, so he was quite sure it was her. Toss
ing the man a coin after he gave him a list of the towns the coach visited, he thanked him and mounted his horse to head after her.
Hawk switched out horses at the first inn the stagecoach had stopped and arranged for Wycliff’s horse to be delivered back to his estate.
At the second stop he ate a meal and confirmed the stagecoach had a young lady with a veil over her face on board. Feeling confident that he would have her in hand before the end of the day, he pressed on.
A few hours later, he jumped from his horse at The Boar’s Head Inn and handed it over to a young groom. “Please see about hiring a private carriage.”
“Not sure if I can get it for you today, my lord.” The boy scratched his head. “I might have one for you tomorrow.”
“Excellent. See that you do.” Hawk had been overjoyed to see the stagecoach parked right outside the inn, most likely for the dinner stop.
Not wanting to alert Lizzie that he was here and take a chance of her trying to escape again, he pulled down the brim of his hat and entered the inn.
The stagecoach passengers were all seated on a long table in the common room. Lizzie sat between an older woman and a man who was busy drinking his meal. Hawk took a seat at a small table in the corner where the lighting was dim, so he could observe Lizzie without her seeing him.
No food sat in front of Lizzie, and the man in his cups next to her kept leaning in her direction. Whatever he was saying caused Lizzie to speak to him sharply. He kept it up until Hawk could no longer ignore the situation. Hopefully, he could rescue Lizzie without causing too much attention.
Hawk walked up behind the man and clamped his hand on his shoulder. “My good man, I suggest you leave the lady alone. She does not wish your attention.”
Lizzie’s head jerked toward him. Behind the dark veil her eyes grew wide with panic. She started to rise, and he said, “Do not rise, my dear. I will take care of this piece of fustian nonsense.”
“Hey now, the gel’s traveling with me. Go find yer own woman.” The drunkard yanked his shoulder, attempting to shrug off Hawk’s hand.
Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love) Page 7