A Lady's Past

by A. S. Fenichel

  Scoffing, Jacques began feeling the effects of an empty stomach and two glasses of brandy in quick succession. He put his glass down. “Monique did not break my heart, though she did abuse my good faith.”

  “And nearly landed your head in a basket.” Preston lowered his empty glass.

  “Indeed. It was a near thing, and without your intervention, my parents would have been devastated. Still, I was not in love with Monique. At least now I can see it was merely an infatuation with a beautiful and experienced woman. She intrigued me, and of course she was a great deal of fun.” He recalled all the times they had laughed together after making love. A shame she used him to profit from a government hunting for dissidents.

  “You have not answered my question about Miss MacLeod.”

  The server was a buxom woman with blond hair peeking out from under her cap. She smiled and her cheeks were rosy apples. “I brought you some bread to go with the soup. It’s beef. I hope that will appeal to you gentlemen.”

  Preston favored her with a wide smile. “Thank you, madam. It smells divine, and is just what we needed after a wet, cold ride.”

  Blushing, she curtsied and backed away.

  Surprisingly, the soup was delightful. Tender beef, potatoes and carrots melted in Jacques’s mouth. “It is very good.”

  While he spooned soup, Preston shook his head. “Still no response. Shall I take that to mean you are in love and don’t want to admit it.”

  Jacques put down his spoon. His head spun with both regret and brandy. The knot in his chest tightened painfully. “Diana is both brilliant and beautiful. I have found her heart to be pure in spite of the horrors she has endured. Despite my determination to never let another woman enter my heart, she weaved her way inside me. I will not let anything happen to her. I have failed her to the point where my chances of winning her are destroyed. For this, I shall never forgive myself.”

  “Are you saying you don’t intend to pursue the woman you love?” Preston had put his own soup aside and stared at him wide-eyed.

  “She has distanced herself from my affection.” Even saying the words broke Jacques’s heart far worse than Monique’s betrayal. “I cannot blame her. I promised to keep her safe, and the moment I lured her out of Everton House she was taken by the very man who killed her parents.”

  “That was not your fault. No one can blame you for the attack on the road. Victor Caron was well prepared to wait her out. She couldn’t stay in that house indefinitely. At least we were able to retrieve her and Lady Chervil. This is not a tragedy, Jacques. This was a success.” Preston pounded his fist on the table, making several heads turn.

  Jacques forced a smile to ease any worries the revelers might have had. “I appreciate your passion on the subject and your support, but I failed her. She is alive and that will have to be enough for me. I am determined to find Caron, even if it means finding every man named Farmer in London to do it.”

  “I don’t know how you can let her go. I would not allow anything to take my Millie away from me.”

  “And Millie is lucky to have you. She is a gem and you are a perfect pair. Diana and I are mismatched from the start. I cannot imagine that loving a man of the same nation that imprisoned, hunted and tortured her would be an easy thing.” Another piece of his heart tore away and died.

  It had been years since Jacques had cried, but the lump growing in his throat told him if he didn’t let this subject go, he would make an ass of himself.

  “I never thought I would say this, Jacques, but you are a fool. That woman loves you just as much as you love her. You will both end miserably if you don’t pursue her.”

  Jacques turned his attention back to his soup and the crust of bread. “It is not relevant. I must find Caron and secure a future for Diana even if that future is not with me.”

  Shaking his head, Preston also returned to eating his soup. “Why is it that men in love turn to idiots? I have seen it dozens of times, and was nearly guilty of it myself. Ask the lady directly about her feelings. If she rejects you, at least you won’t have to wonder for the rest of your life over what might have been.”

  The last spoonful of soup was cold after more talk than eating. Jacques poured another glass of brandy. Better to numb his pain than experience it tonight. “I think she made it quite clear by her cold reproach this afternoon. I could not illicit any emotion from her. If that does not tell you of her resolve, then nothing will.”

  Jacques tossed several coins on the table, picked up his glass and the bottle, and tromped up the steps to their room, where he planned to get good and drunk.

  At the steps, the server who’d brought their food stopped him. “Sir?”

  “I left your pay on the table.” He mounted the first step.

  She touched his arm. “It’s not that, sir.”

  He stared at her hand on his arm. She was not dressed as a prostitute, but sometimes these things were less obvious. He met her gaze. “I’m not in the market for company this evening, my dear, though I appreciate the thought.”

  A deep blush stained her round cheeks, and she pulled her hand away. “I overheard you and your duke friend talking about Mr. Farmer and his French friend.”

  Jacques searched her eyes for any signs of a ploy. He saw only dark rings of a hard-working woman at the end of a long day and earnest blue eyes. “What can you tell me, madam?”

  “Billy Farmer was here a week ago with some man with a French accent. The Frenchman was rude and grabby.”

  “What is your name, my dear?”

  “May.”

  “May, what did the Frenchman look like?” The rumble of excitement started in Jacques’s gut.

  She pulled a sour face. “Tall as the doorway with brown hair and eyes, though not kind eyes like yours. He was a wicked one, I could tell. Made Mr. Innis wait on them, I did.”

  “A wise decision. Have you seen either of them since?”

  Across the common room, Preston spoke with Mr. Innis before heading toward Jacques and the server.

  “That’s why I stopped you, sir. I saw them before I came to work today. They were in Billy’s cart and turned into Sally Wendell’s boardinghouse just before dark.”

  “Who is Sally Wendell and where is her boardinghouse?” It took all of Jacques’s restraint to keep from jumping for joy.

  May shrugged. “Sally is a widow. Keeps a clean house and boards travelers who don’t want all the hubbub of the inn.”

  Preston heard only the last bit but must have guessed from Jacques’s expression that the news was promising. “Where is the boardinghouse?”

  “It’s just up the lane a mile or so. The drive is on the left when you pass through town.” May blushed up at Preston. She didn’t likely speak to dukes very often in her capacity as a server at the run-down Wastrel Inn.

  Mr. Innis looked over and frowned. He started toward them, but a couple of drunks stopped him with some foolery.

  “May, you have been a great help.” Jacques handed her a pound sterling. “I would hide this away before your employer arrives, and not speak of this to anyone.”

  She gaped at the coin in her palm before ferreting it away in the pocket of her skirt. “Thank you, sir. You can’t know what that will mean to my family.”

  Extricating himself from the drunks, Innis finally arrived by the stairs.

  Preston said, “Miss May, the food was very good. Thank you.”

  Puffed up like a pigeon, Innis grinned. “I’m so glad you liked it, Your Grace.”

  “It has revived us, Mr. Innis. In fact, we are ready to be on our way. Of course, we’ll pay you for the room.” Preston handed Innis some coin.

  “But, Your Grace, you should rest, and this is far too much for one room.” Innis looked genuinely confused by the amount of money in his hand.

  “Consider it extra for such fine brandy and soup.”
>
  Jacques handed the remaining brandy to the innkeeper, smiled at May and followed Preston out of the Wastrel Inn.

  Their horses had been fed and watered, but it would be foolish to ride them hard after such a long day without rest. Mrs. Wendell’s boardinghouse was not far. They rode the horses down the road at a walk, and ten minutes later they turned down the lane May had indicated.

  “How do you suggest we approach? Shall we storm the front door or sneak about?” Preston kicked his horse into a slow trot to pull up beside Jacques.

  “I suggest we knock on the door,” Jacques said. “We may have a better chance with the proprietress if we are direct and polite.”

  “And if Caron is within?”

  “Then we storm the house and capture him. If he should die in the process, I would not mourn his loss.” Jacques let the rage roll through him before discarding it for a calmer head.

  “No. I don’t imagine you would.”

  The looming stone house was surrounded by woods. The snow-covered yard showed several carts, horses and people had been through in the last few hours. They couldn’t know if any of those cart tracks belonged to Mr. Farmer.

  They tied the horses to a long post near a walkway paved with small stones. Those stones made it difficult to approach without making any noise. Perhaps that was wise on the proprietress’s part.

  Preston rapped the knocker.

  Brisk footsteps echoed inside before a woman in her midthirties opened the door. “How may I help you gentlemen?”

  “Are you Mrs. Wendell?” Preston put on the smile he used whenever dealing with women he wished to charm. It had been a while since Jacques had seen the expression.

  “I am.” She was tall and stood very straight. With her blond hair pulled up in a severe bun and her dark gray dress, she appeared unapproachable. A slight blush proved that she was not immune to Preston’s charms. “Who might you be?”

  “I am Preston Knowles, Duke of Middleton, and this is my friend Jacques Laurent. We were told that you might have two guests we’ve been looking for tonight.”

  She narrowed her eyes and closed the door a few inches. “Who are you looking for?”

  Stepping forward, Jacques put his boot against the door. It wouldn’t do for her to bolt them out before they had their answers. “A Frenchman named Caron and his friend William Farmer.”

  She released the door and her expression eased. “They were here, but Billy got drunk and I told them to leave. I’ll not have that kind of foolishness in my house.”

  Bad luck. Jacques said, “A wise woman, to be sure. Would you happen to know where they were traveling to?”

  “Nothing but trouble, those two. I could see it the moment they showed up.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I shouldn’t tell you, but I like Billy and I’d hate for the Caron fellow he’s taken up with to get him into trouble.”

  “We will do our best to keep Mr. Farmer safe. We are well aware he is being used by Mr. Caron.” Preston leaned in to further ensure the door would not be closed on them.

  “As I said, Billy had been drinking. He was going on and on about some foolishness involving a pot of gold they had to go up north for. That Caron fellow told him to shut his mouth more than once, but Billy kept on about heading all the way to Yorkshire, and that being the farthest he’d ever been from home.”

  “Bastard.” Jacques couldn’t contain the curse. “I beg your pardon, madam.”

  A fierce look from Preston told Jacques he should stay silent before he made this good lady angry. “Forgive my friend, Mrs. Wendell. You see, it is his pot of gold that Caron is after.”

  Her eyes widened at his language. “This pot of gold is a woman?”

  Preston smiled. “I’m afraid we are not at liberty to say, but you have been very gracious.” He handed her a shilling.

  Waving off the payment, she said, “I don’t need that, Your Grace. I do a fine business here. I’m an honest woman. You go and make sure that Caron stays away from your woman. He’s not the type to treat a lady with respect.”

  They bowed, and Preston said, “I’m sure you’re right. Thank you.”

  Mounting their horses, Jacques looked at the snowy road before them. “It’s going to be a long night. We should get some fresh horses.”

  “Since we know where he’s going and he will likely take a surreptitious path, perhaps we might go back to the inn and get a few hours’ sleep.”

  “I’ll never sleep.” Jacques’s temper was rising faster than he could control. “But you have a point. The snow will make travel harder for a cart, and he has already set himself back two days’ ride. We’ll rest for two hours and then pursue.”

  With Preston’s nod, they headed back to the Wastrel Inn.

  Chapter 12

  Diana watched the countryside change out the window of the carriage. It had taken them three days to reach the Midlands. They would stop for the night in Leicester. That was what Alex had told her. Alex was polite, but he never asked anything, just issued orders and expected everyone to follow.

  The day before, the last of the four Buckrose Horsemen had joined the party, and the other men seemed to relax. They acted as if together, they could not be harmed. She thought them a bit arrogant.

  Shivering, Honoria pulled her cloak tighter. “You shall freeze me to death with your Scottish blood, Diana.”

  Diana pulled the window closed. “I’m sorry. It is good to be traveling north, even though we won’t get as far as my family’s home. Someday I hope to see it again.”

  “I have been wondering why you have no accent.”

  “Mother sent me to finishing school in England. She wanted me to have an opportunity to marry well, and thought the Lowland accent would hurt my chances of making a good match.”

  Honoria cocked her head. “Was marrying well important to you?”

  “No.” She laughed. “I wanted to invent things and run experiments with Father. It was a great debate between my mother and me.”

  If she had been more obedient, she might have already been out of the house and Victor wouldn’t have been able to use her to incite such rage in her father. Her parents might still be captive, but they would be alive, and they would have had her to defend them in England. Perhaps she could have gotten the English government to rescue them. Maybe these Horsemen would have helped.

  A long sigh issued from her, and she wished she could run and hide from all of it.

  As if she had looked into her heart, Honoria’s eyes filled with sympathy. “It wasn’t your fault, Diana dear. You were not to blame for what happened, and wishing for a different past will not make is so.”

  Diana could not think why such a kind woman would have taken her part, but she was happy to have a friend and companion on this journey. Honoria was her only hope of ever seeing outside again. When the Horsemen had informed her she would be traveling north with them for her own safety, Diana assumed she was being carted off to some prison where they would ask a lot of questions and believe none of her answers. When Honoria said she was going too, things seemed less bleak.

  “I realize I was not the direct cause of my parents’ deaths, but had I behaved differently throughout my life, things might have turned out better.” Emotion clogged her throat and built behind her eyes.

  Honoria took her hand. “We are given circumstances throughout our lives, and we act according to our needs and wants at that moment. You can’t expect to have known five years ago that some action or inaction would lead to disaster. It’s illogical to believe that or berate yourself over the past.”

  Everything about Honoria was surprising. “You know, when I first came to Everton House, the ladies said you were nonsensical and flighty, but such fun. You are nothing like they described. You do like to have fun, but there is nothing flighty about you.”

  “Oh, I can act with great whimsy. All
things for all times. Our association has required a different side of my nature, to be sure.” Honoria grinned wickedly. “I suppose we shall see your Mr. Laurent soon.”

  Heart pounding, Diana forced her expression to remain bland. “I wouldn’t think so. He is a smart man and will keep his distance.”

  “Even smart men fall in love, Diana.”

  “It is possible his heart was leaning in that direction, but I have made certain he will alter his course. And just so, he has taken another route to stay away from me.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed down the hurt she had caused with her cold regard in London. It was for the best. He had saved her, and that was that.

  Honoria’s grin never faltered. “I think Jacques Laurent is made of stronger stuff than that.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Alex trotted up to the door. “We’ll be stopping shortly, ladies. There is a fine inn here and we shall enjoy a good meal. I know it will be inconvenient, but from this point on, we shall push a bit harder. We feel it safest to get to Buckrose Castle as quickly as possible. The castle is impenetrable.”

  “So this will be our last decent night of sleep for a few days?” Honoria fussed with her cloak.

  “I’m afraid so, my lady.” Alex kept his horse at a pace with the carriage, which had slowed as they approached the inn.

  Once they arrived, he dismounted, as did the other three horsemen and Michael Rollins. This was the finest inn they had come to since leaving London. The stone building was lit with candles, and there were several men sitting watching the snow fall while drinking ale. Two boys ran over to help with the horses and carriage, while an older man with gray hair and a stooped walk came across the yard at a snail’s pace. He ordered the boys to care for the animals, then he stopped and talked to the Horseman named Oliver Graham.

  Diana suspected all of the Buckrose Horsemen were titled, but none said so. Arrogance came with a title, and all four displayed it.

  As Alex handed her down, she whispered, “If we are going to travel at night, we shall need ways to keep Lady Chervil warmer. This weather is quite hard on her.”