by Cheryl Holt
“She’s in a safe place, Miss Bates. It’s all you need to know.”
“She’ll be so frightened.”
“Children adapt,” he snottily replied. “She’ll be fine.”
“Now then, Miss Bates,” his sister said, “let’s get you into your cab. The driver has the directions to your boarding house.”
“I won’t leave!” Jo protested.
“Miss Bates, may I be frank?”
“No. I’m weary of listening to you.”
The Countess ignored her. “Gossip has spread that a harlot resides here.”
“Who spread it? You?”
The Countess ignored her again. “Rumor has it that you entertain gentlemen for money. Will you tarry and be identified as the female in question? What if the neighbors complain to the authorities? You’d be arrested. Are you willing to risk it?”
Jo felt trapped and terrified and very alone. She wondered if Maud was still parked around the corner. If she ran to her sister, would Maud aid her? She was sure not.
“I won’t leave,” Jo said again, but with much less conviction.
“It’s not up to you, Miss Bates,” Mr. Slater told her. “We can’t have our name attached to this scandal, and with the Earl having left town, you have no protector and your character is destroyed.”
The Countess walked out, and Mr. Slater followed her. As he passed Jo, he grabbed her arm and marched her out with him. She was so stunned she staggered after him, not objecting as he escorted her to the cab and lifted her in.
The Benton servants stood like a phalanx of guards, their scowls critical and condemning. Was the whole city tittering over her? Was the whole kingdom?
Jo collapsed onto the seat, and Mr. Slater signaled to the driver. He clicked the reins, and the horse took off with a surprised jolt that nearly pitched her to the floor. She steadied herself and managed a final glimpse of her home.
Barbara Prescott was locking the door, and Mr. Slater was holding a chain, ready to snap it shut and bar it even more securely so Jo could never sneak back inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Peyton’s carriage rolled to a stop in front of Maud Bates’s house outside Telford. It looked as if she was home. Smoke billowed from the chimney, the curtains were open, and the knocker was on the door.
He’d called on her earlier in the summer, but it was November now. Jo had mentioned that her sister was marrying Thompson Townsend in September, but she’d never specified the date. If Maud had been away on her honeymoon, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
He doubted Jo would be living with her sister, but he was out of ideas and had to inquire.
Jo had vanished into thin air, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d been jilted at the altar twice, and Peyton was responsible for the second humiliation. With his suffering his accident, he hadn’t been in any condition to avert what occurred, but still, it had occurred.
As soon as he’d been able to muster a coherent thought, he’d written to apologize, but she hadn’t replied, and he’d been irked by her silence. He’d been too incapacitated to travel to London, so he’d written a dozen more letters that weren’t answered. Finally, he’d sent a footman to town to check on her.
The man had delivered the distressing news that she’d moved, and there were other tenants in her house. They had never heard of her and could shed no light on where she’d gone.
Peyton’s health was better, not one-hundred percent, but better. Unfortunately, it appeared he would never regain his former physical stamina. The break to his leg had been too severe.
In the future, he’d never run races at a picnic or trek for miles to snoop out every inch of the Benton estate. He’d never stand on a ship’s deck and brace himself against the roll of the waves. He’d always walk with a limp, and rainy weather would make him ache with rheumatism as if he were elderly and decrepit.
But…he continued to improve, and he was too vain and impatient to lounge around feeling sorry for himself. The minute he could, he’d started searching for Jo. He’d begun at the house he’d rented, discovering for himself that she’d truly left.
He’d talked to the neighbors and had been unsettled by their terrible gossip about her. They’d whispered that she’d been a doxy who’d illicitly entertained paramours until she’d been chased off by the authorities.
The landlord though had refuted the possibility of her being swept up on a morals charge, so it had probably been a vicious rumor. The man had simply received a note from her—with no notice or warning—apprising him that she was vacating the premises immediately. She’d provided no forwarding address.
Where might she be? He was such a conceited ass that he’d never probed for details about her personal life. He knew she had a sister and that was pretty much it. Were there cousins who might have offered her shelter? Were there friends?
He would interrogate Maud Bates, and if she wasn’t cooperative, he couldn’t guess what he’d do next.
He was so afraid that Jo might be imperiled. Daisy too. Although they hadn’t been sure at the time of the wedding, it was likely she was increasing with his child. By now, she’d be several months along, so her condition would be visible to others which would bring on a host of problems.
He could accept that she was angry with him for jilting her, but he was angry with her too, for not trusting him, for not wondering why he’d failed to arrive. She had to have realized something bad prevented him. Why was her only reaction to flee? Why didn’t she travel to Benton? Why didn’t she write or send a messenger to inquire?
What was she thinking? With a baby on the way, she couldn’t strut about town with no husband and no ring on her finger. If naught else, she needed to marry him to give her child a name—despite how furious she might be.
Arthur Cummings opened the carriage door and lowered the step. He was the young veteran who’d worked on the Benton inventory. Peyton had hired him to be his clerk and aide. It was mortifying to contend with reality, but Peyton wasn’t completely hale and, on occasion, required assistance.
He climbed out, hating how Arthur had to stabilize him as he descended, that his balance wasn’t as firm as it had been in the past. Arthur was marvelous about it though. He never let on that he was lending a hand with any task.
Peyton went to the door and knocked, and when he asked to speak to Maud, he was shown into the parlor. He was a bit surprised to be welcomed. During his prior trip, when he’d retrieved Jo’s clothes, he’d been rude and abrupt. If Maud had claimed to be indisposed, he couldn’t have complained about being snubbed.
Before too much time had passed, she marched in. In their previous meeting, she’d been aflutter with anxiety as to his purpose and whether he might reveal her secret to her betrothed. Now she was simply annoyed. He stood to greet her, but she didn’t invite him to sit again. She didn’t sit either.
“Thank you for seeing me, Miss Bates. Or is it Mrs. Townsend?”
“It’s Mrs. Townsend.”
“Congratulations on your marriage.”
She didn’t acknowledge his well wishes. Instead, she stunned him by snottily saying, “I’m amazed that you have the audacity to call on me, Lord Benton. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have the nerve.”
“Really? Why is that?”
She ignored his question. “How may I help you?”
“I’ll come straight to the point.”
“Please do.”
“I’m looking for your sister. Is she here?”
“You’re looking for Jo?” She appeared aghast.
“Yes. I had an address for her in London, but she’s moved, and I can’t locate her.”
“You are trying to locate her?” She was repeating his comments as if she didn’t comprehend English and it was difficult to decipher his words. “Have you no shame?”
He scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“As if you didn’t know,” she spat with a huge amount of venom
.
“No, I don’t know, ma’am, so perhaps you should enlighten me.”
“I received an anonymous letter about you and your antics with her.”
“An anonymous letter. Just out of the blue?”
“Yes, and I visited her in town because of it. I had a very stern discussion with her, and I warned her to hide where you could never find her. It didn’t seem she would heed me, but if she’s vanished, maybe she came to her senses after all.”
He remembered her neighbors and the stories that had spread down her street. He remembered Evan fuming over lurid gossip. The capacity for Londoners to butt their noses into other people’s business never ceased to astound him.
Who would have written to Maud about him? Who would have realized Jo had a sibling? Who would have investigated to discover her address?
The entire scenario was exhausting and ridiculous. It left him livid with rage.
If he’d been braver, he might have confessed the affair, declared his affection for Jo, and told her sister to sod off. But apparently, he was a coward, for he refused to fan the flames of innuendo. They didn’t need to burn any hotter.
“I have no idea what you mean, Mrs. Townsend,” he lied. “I was merely being kind to Josephine. She was in dire financial straits—because of you.”
“Don’t blame any of this on me, Lord Benton. If she’s ruined, I am hardly the culpable party.”
“She was never ruined. Not by me anyway. The extent of my involvement was to pay her rent—for her and your daughter.”
At his mentioning Daisy, Mrs. Townsend blanched. “I can’t imagine to whom you refer, Lord Benton. I have no daughter.”
A muscle ticked in Peyton’s cheek. He recognized that the world was a harsh place for a woman, that the birth of a child out of wedlock was never a truth anyone cared to divulge, but she’d pushed him beyond civility.
“Mrs. Townsend, I won’t play games with you.”
“I won’t play them with you either, and I will have to ask you to leave.”
“You can ask all you want, but I won’t depart until I have a few answers from you. When did you last see Jo?”
“In August—in London.”
“After you spoke to her, you never heard from her again? You’ve had no contact?”
“No, but I wouldn’t have expected to. She made choices in her life that I cautioned her not to make. Josephine has always thought she was smarter than everyone else, but there are consequences for that sort of vanity.”
The callous remark incensed him. “She offered shelter to your daughter when you specifically insisted she shouldn’t, but once my brother-in-law kicked Daisy out of Benton, she might have ended up in an orphanage. Weren’t you concerned about that? Are you concerned about her now?”
She gestured to the door. “You’ll have to excuse me, Lord Benton, but I’m busy this morning, and should you stop by in the future, I will always be busy.”
He didn’t budge. “They don’t have any money. What if they’re in danger.”
She sighed with exasperation. “Lord Benton, you are laboring under the mistaken impression that I have information about my sister. I don’t.”
“Has she any old friends? How about any relatives?”
“No.”
“Where would she go then, Mrs. Townsend? If you can’t admit to being worried, can you at least admit to being curious?”
“In my last conversation with her, I advised her to think about what she was doing with you, but Jo assumes she knows best. It’s her greatest failing.”
“She’s a good person, a kind person!” he fumed. “You never understood that about her.”
“Am I her nanny, Lord Benton? I don’t believe I am. She made her bed, and she’s definitely lying in it. If she’s gotten herself in a jam, it’s not my fault, and I don’t feel guilty.”
“She was protecting your daughter!” he furiously stated, his temper sparking.
“I keep telling you I have no daughter, and I’ve given you much more time than you deserve. Let me show you out.”
She huffed away, and he followed her. He could have tarried and traded barbs, but it appeared she was clueless as to Jo’s whereabouts, so further bickering was pointless.
But as he stepped into the foyer, she was frozen in her spot, an expression of horror on her face. Her husband was standing on the stairs, and from how he was glaring, he must have eavesdropped on their heated discussion.
Peyton broke the awkward moment. “Hello, Townsend.”
“Benton.” Townsend’s nod was curt. “I didn’t realize we had a visitor or I’d have come down.”
“I’m not actually visiting. This was a quick stop for me. I’m looking for your wife’s sister, Josephine. She seems to have vanished from her lodging in London, and she can’t be located. I’m afraid she may be imperiled.”
“If she’s imperiled,” Townsend snidely said, “aren’t you the culprit?”
Peyton warned himself to ignore the stupid oaf, but he couldn’t. “Careful, Townsend, or I might consider that comment an insult.”
“Heaven forbid,” Townsend muttered.
Mrs. Townsend shook herself out of her stupor, and she yanked the door open. “Lord Benton was just leaving.”
“You’re in quite a hurry to get rid of him, Maud.” Townsend descended until he reached the foyer too. He turned to Peyton. “I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you.”
“I’m sorry we disturbed you,” Peyton said. “I should have lowered my volume.”
“I’m not disturbed,” Townsend claimed. “I’m absolutely fascinated. What’s this about Maud having a daughter?”
Mrs. Townsend peered frantically at Peyton, visually beseeching him to deny Daisy, but he couldn’t abide her, and he detested how awful she’d been to Jo and Daisy both. He and Mrs. Townsend weren’t allies, and he had no reason to conspire with her against her spouse.
He didn’t like any of the Townsend boys—they were all wastrels and cads—but no husband should have such a hideous secret concealed from him.
“I don’t know a lot, Townsend,” Peyton said, “but here’s what I can tell you. Your wife was seduced by my brother when she was sixteen.”
Townsend sucked in a sharp breath. “They had a child together?”
“Yes, and her name is Daisy. She’s nine this year.”
“Isn’t that…interesting?” Townsend shot such an angry glower at his wife that Peyton was surprised it didn’t knock her over.
Maud emitted a mewling sound of distress, but Peyton continued talking to her husband.
“My brother had custody of her, and she resided at Benton, but after he died, my in-laws didn’t feel they should have to keep supporting her. They pressured Mrs. Townsend to take her—or Daisy would have been sent to an orphanage.”
“Nice family you have there,” Townsend taunted.
“Your wife refused to aid her, but Josephine tried. It’s why Mrs. Townsend kicked her out, so I’ve been assisting her.”
“Really?” Townsend sneered. “Is that what they call a wild fling these days? You were assisting the innocent maid in question?”
Normally, Peyton wouldn’t have tolerated such cheek. If he’d been healthy, he’d have beaten Townsend to a pulp, but he wasn’t healthy, and Townsend wasn’t worth a brawl.
“Daisy is Josephine’s niece,” he said, “but she’s my niece too, and I’m very worried about her. I believe they’re in jeopardy, and I’m desperate to find them so I can assess their situation. Mrs. Townsend insists she’s had no contact with them, but if there’s any news, I’d be very grateful if you’d drop me a note.”
Peyton started out, and Townsend said, “You’re limping, Benton. What happened to you?”
“I had an accident.”
“It must have been a bad one.”
“It was.” Peyton halted next to Maud. “I guess I’ve butted in where I shouldn’t, but you’ve been such
a shrew about Daisy. I couldn’t remain silent.”
“Go, Lord Benton!” She wouldn’t look at him and was staring outside in a sort of trance.
“Your husband deserved to know the truth.”
“Have mercy! Please!”
“I intend to locate your sister—and your daughter—and when I do, I won’t lie about Daisy’s paternity. Nor will I pretend to be unaware of her mother’s identity, so your husband would have learned about it sooner or later.”
Peyton left, and behind him, Townsend called, “Thank you, Benton. I appreciate your candor. It will give me and my wife plenty to discuss over the supper table.”
The door was slammed, blocking any other of his remarks.
Maud Bates Townsend was rude, unlikable, and cruel. He couldn’t stand her, but still, he felt sorry for her. He wasn’t celebrating how her scandal had been revealed to her spouse. He wasn’t smug, wasn’t about to gloat.
He wondered how her marriage would fare in the future. Townsend would view himself as being duped and deceived, and Peyton had to hope that Townsend wasn’t a violent man, that he wouldn’t react in a violent way.
He walked to his carriage, and Arthur dawdled, watching as he climbed in. The encounter had drained him, and he tarried, bewildered as to what his destination should be. Finally, Arthur peeked in and asked where they were going.
Peyton had no desire to trudge to Benton where he’d just spent so many weeks incapacitated. For the moment, he’d had about all of Barbara and Richard he could stomach.
He probably ought to schedule some meetings with the navy. So far, he’d delayed any decisions about his career. As he’d convalesced, he’d received a commiseration letter from his commanding officer, but under the words, there was a hint of exasperation.
After he’d failed to report for duty, his ship had sailed with a different captain. If Peyton went back to work, he’d have to wait in line for another assignment and vessel which was annoying and depressing, but it really didn’t matter.
In his current reduced state, he couldn’t return to work. When would he admit it—both to himself and the navy? His commander hadn’t said as much, but it was clear that Peyton had exhausted everyone’s patience. So…