Scandal's Promise

by Gibson, Pamela

  Emily looked beautiful today in a fetching bonnet and a cloak the color of the lake. Her cheeks were pinked by the cold, and her eyes glowed with anticipation.

  “Look who’s here, George,” she said.

  The child ran forward and hugged him. “Papa. You came.”

  Andrew lowered himself on his haunches to be eye level. “Did you enjoy your visit with the ladies?”

  “Yes, sir. I drew a tree.”

  Mrs. Whittington’s lips curved up in a smile. “Quite an artist you have there, sir.”

  “Well then, perhaps you can continue your lessons, provided you do well with your other studies.” He rose to a standing position.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Emily strolled over to greet Lord Ralston before reaching for the child’s hand. “Come, George. We must find the best boughs for the house.”

  “Will we have greenery in our house, Papa?” George tugged on Andrew’s coat.

  “We will. Perhaps Lady Emily can come by tomorrow and tell the servants where to place it.”

  The child ran over to Emily. “Can you? I would like it ever so much.”

  She shook her head at Andrew, as if delivering a silent scold. But there was a twinkle in her eye that told him she would be there. In whispered tones, he mentioned the pony then, and saw another kind of look in her eye.

  If only I hadn’t wronged her so badly.

  They broke into groups. Ralston and Mrs. Whittington took one groom. Emily, Andrew, and George took another with them as they hiked through the trees, looking for pine boughs to cut and shape into the sizes they needed for garlands and wreaths. Emily declared the holly bushes in her garden would be stripped clean to provide a little color. George danced merrily between them, springing free to chase a rabbit.

  “Don’t go far, lad,” Andrew hollered. “You must remain in sight at all times.”

  “Yes, Papa.” He skidded to a halt and came bounding back. “Did you see it? I wonder where it lives?”

  “Many rabbits live in the forest. Sometimes at dusk you can see a deer dining on leaves. Perhaps I’ll bring you to the clearing near the lake some evening and you can watch them.”

  “Tonight?”

  “No, not tonight. When . . .” He wanted to say when the danger was past, but amended his comment to something less onerous. No need to worry the child. He was worried enough.

  “Oh look, mistletoe.” Emily’s eyes grew wide. “’Tis on the middle branch. Do you see it, Cardmore?”

  “Allow me, milady. The groom has taken our boughs to the cart.” He bowed formally, shed his topcoat and hat, and climbed onto a lower branch, testing its strength. Fortunately he’d dosed himself before coming. He was now happy and pain free, and a schoolboy again, wanting to impress his friend.

  Two or three branches up, he ventured closer to the mistletoe clump, reaching high. “Got it.” He then climbed down slowly, knowing Emily watched him. He felt light-headed, like a bird in flight. He almost lifted his arms, then remembered he still had a few feet to go. Laughing, he descended to a lower branch and dropped to the ground in front of her.

  “Shall we test it?”

  “I think not.” She giggled. “What say you, George?” Her laughter turned to a frown as she turned to look at the child.

  He was gone.

  Andrew’s heart dropped to his knees. “George! You’re not in sight. If you are hiding, ’tis not the time.”

  Footsteps crunched on pine needles nearby. Ralston and Mrs. Whittington emerged with arms full of greenery. “What’s happened?”

  Andrew’s breath hitched, close to panic. “George has run off. He was chasing a rabbit earlier, and the creature may have reappeared. The grooms can fan out in the area below the road. Ralston, you and Mrs. Whittington search toward the lake. Em and I will head in the opposite direction. We have to find him. He’s probably close by, but could still be in danger.”

  “We’ll find him, Cardmore. He couldn’t have gone far.” Ralston and Mrs. Whittington dropped their greenery and walked swiftly back where they’d been, their voices shouting at different octaves.

  Andrew hung his head, but Emily touched his arm “Come. There is no time to lose.”

  They set off a distance apart, calling out the boy’s name. When they reached the lake, they converged and hastened toward the road. What he saw when he reached it nearly made Andrew’s heart stop. There in the dirt was the cap George had been wearing, and next to it tracks in the mud made by carriage wheels.

  George was gone.

  He’d failed him again.

  Chapter 29

  Hours turned into days. Andrew, Ralston, and a host of others searched the village, the forest, and every inch of the estate. The servants were once again dispatched to comb through the rooms and hidden hallways of the mansion. George was gone, and Andrew had no clue as to where he might be.

  Andrew drank and dosed and drank some more. For two days he welcomed the oblivion of drunkenness while he chastised himself for his failures. He contrived to be sober on the third day. He and Emily had agreed to meet to report any news. Today, as he trudged through the pines, the cold made his breath visible. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe snow would soon be upon them. He wasn’t even sure he should go. Since George’s kidnapping, Emily had barely looked at him, as if the sight of him disgusted her.

  She was already there, next to the rock, wearing a brown fur-lined pelisse and bonnet, her hands hidden inside a muff. Her first words reinforced what he’d been thinking earlier.

  “I do not think we should meet like this unless one of us has something to report. If so, word can be sent. I’ve made inquiries in the village and asked shopkeepers and friends to be alert for George. Aunt Lily has made a sketch of his likeness, and I’ve shown it around, and I know you informed the magistrate. I’m going to say this one time and be done with it. George is not here, and it is our fault. I fully accept my part in his disappearance, and I am ashamed to say I was watching you, and not him.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and it tore his heart from his chest. He reached out tentatively, assuming she would resist his touch, but to his surprise, she folded herself into his arms and clung to him as she sobbed. “I am so frightened for the child. Is he warm? Is he hungry? Has he been harmed? How could anyone use an innocent child for revenge on an adult?”

  He hugged her tight, wanting only to console her. “I don’t know. God knows I wish I did.”

  She sniffed and moved back. “I’m sorry things did not turn out well for us, Drew. But we cannot change the past. Even though I admit I hated you for a time, I have forgiven you for marrying Caroline. But we can never be a couple, and I don’t know if we can even be friends now. Especially since I feel like we are as complicit as the kidnapper.”

  He swallowed and tilted her chin up with his forefinger. “You are not to blame in any way for George’s disappearance. I was the one in the tree. I was the one who could see clearly everything on the ground. But no, I had to show off. I am the one responsible, like I am to blame for everything that has gone wrong in my life. I hurt the people I love the most, and I am ashamed.”

  Emily swiped at her eyes with her gloved hand. “I am not usually such a watering pot. I vow I shall not rest until the boy is brought home safely. Have you any more ideas?”

  “Only one thing is left to do, and I have been dreading it. I must visit Caroline’s father and wring out of him who my wife’s paramours were just before our marriage. I suspect the list may be a long one.”

  She turned away and sat down on the rock facing the water. “Come and tell me what you know. I was at her come-out and several balls where Caroline preened before a cadre of beaus. A few seemed to know her better than others. Why do you seek them?”

  He sat beside her and studied the water, not wantin
g to see the loathing she must feel. “As I said, Caroline was enceinte when I married her. One of these men might be George’s real father, come to claim him. Certainly not out of fatherly affection. The boy knows no other parent except me. I’ve started to wonder if someone is trying to avenge Caroline by punishing me for neglecting her after she was compromised. Maybe the rogue wants to take George to rob me of my legal heir.”

  “You’ve ruled out disgruntled servants and men who served under you?”

  “I have. Ralston agrees. The identity of George’s natural father is unknown and is the one area we have not yet explored.”

  “But what of the house? Who among the suitors would know enough about the house and the priest’s hole in the chapel to hide him during his first abduction?”

  “We haven’t figured that out yet. But we shall eventually. The rogue must have had help from someone in the village or a former servant.” He gritted his teeth against the pain stabbing his shoulder. “When we go to London, we shall inform the Runners. It would be easier to hide a child in town.” He rubbed his old wound, knowing his mood would soon change if he did not have his medication.

  Emily shifted on the rock. “Come back to my house, and let’s go over all of this with Aunt Lily. She’s been in the neighborhood since her husband died and might be able to shed light on who might be amenable to a bribe.”

  He hesitated. It was a good idea, but his shoulder was on fire now, and soon his head and body would join in the conflagration. “I cannot. I must get back.”

  She pleaded with him with her eyes. “Ralston will understand. He’s been a good friend to you. You can explain your absence to him when you return. Hopefully with new information.”

  “No! I must return. Now.” He jumped up and turned away.

  “Andrew? Are you craving the drug? You seek it above information that might help in our search for George?”

  “You don’t understand,” he snarled.

  “No. I don’t.” She joined him and grasped his hand, forcing him to face her. “Come. You can ease yourself with brandy. You seem to enjoy drink as much as the laudanum.”

  He tried to brush away her hand, but she tugged. He wrenched free and pushed her away. “I said no. I’ll come later, Ralston with me. Good day.”

  He rushed off as she called out to him. When he heard her no more, he slowed his pace and entered the house, angry at her for challenging him, angry at himself for being such a lout. What was wrong with him? She was right. The drug had become an obsession. He raced up to his room and drained the bottle, opening the next. When the pain eased and bliss lightened his mood, he sank onto his bed and closed his eyes. Now was not the time to think of a solution to his problem. George must come first. But he must deal with his ill health soon, else it be too late to change.

  When he felt able, he rose and called for Lester. After bathing, he changed and found Ralston reading a book in the library.

  “Let us ride over to Langston Grange. Lady Emily says her aunt might be able to tell us if anyone in the house could be bribed, based on their past. She grew up in the village and returned to her family home when her husband died. If anyone in the village has spread tales about my staff, she would have heard them.”

  “Capital idea. Let me get my coat.”

  They rode over to the Grange and were greeted by Mrs. Whittington. “I’m afraid my niece has a headache and won’t be joining us, but she told me you might be coming, and I’ve made a list.” She drew out a sheet of paper and handed it to Andrew. “The only one who might need money badly is the man who looks after your horses.”

  “But he’s been an employee even before my father died.”

  “Yes, and I’ve never heard anything bad about him. But I understand his father has heavy debts and may soon lose his dry goods shop. You might want to question him. The only other who possibly needs funds is your steward, Drake. It’s rumored he is a gambler. Whether he, too, is in debt, I do not know.”

  Back at the Hall, he and Ralston called in Drake first and asked him to explain the nature of his gambling debts. He mumbled responses while folding and unfolding his hands in his lap. But after a half hour of questioning, Andrew determined Drake’s debts were minor. He swore he’d not visited any gaming establishments in months and would never harm the boy.

  “Do you believe him?” Ralston watched the man leave and toyed with a cheroot. “He seemed credible, and while he has no one to vouch for his whereabouts on the day the child was taken, you found him bleeding from a blow on the head in the abandoned cottage.”

  “He claims he was in the village ordering supplies while we were in the forest. Easy to verify. I’ll have Jones brought in next.”

  The same occurred with the stablemaster. Yes, his father was about to lose his shop, but he was well beyond time to retire. Jones hoped to settle his parents in his cottage on the Cardmore estate. His father was unwell and had not attended to the details required of owning a shop in months. That was why he was losing his business.

  When the man left, Ralston shook his head. “Again, it’s believable. As are Drake’s explanations. I believe you must now pay a visit to Woodley as we discussed.” He lit his cheroot and sat back in his chair. “I missed Lady Emily’s presence. She generally has good insights to offer.”

  Andrew studied a picture on the wall. A hunting piece, full of drama and gore. He must have it removed as he had the pictures in the study. “She and I have had a disagreement.”

  “Oh. May I snoop and ask why?”

  “She believes I love laudanum more than George.”

  Ralston puffed and let the smoke circle in the air. “Emily and I are in agreement. You must wean yourself.”

  Andrew jumped up from his chair and paced. “What of my pain? I cannot function and do right by the lad if I cannot think.”

  “But you cannot think with the amount of your dose now either. I realize it is readily available and widely used. But you are the only one of my acquaintance who has used it for such a length of time. Maybe there is more to what Lady Emily’s cousin said than you believe. Why not try to stop using the drug while I am here to help?”

  Andrew flung himself back into his chair, twisting his signet ring around and around his finger. “I-I’m afraid, Ralston. Afraid of what I might do, or say, or feel. When I’m without my dose, my mood darkens. Can you understand that?”

  “I’m your friend, Andrew. I’ve known you almost as long as Lady Emily. If you want her, want George, I believe you must try.”

  “Let me think on it, will you?” He didn’t need more thought. He knew he had to do it. But timing was important, and he had to find George first.

  “Of course. Take all the time you need and let us make inquiries as to Woodley’s whereabouts. As I recall, he has a townhouse in London, and now that he’s alone, he should not be at his country estate. You can stay in my lodgings if your townhouse is not habitable.”

  “Thank you, Ralston. You are a good friend.”

  “I’m glad you appreciate me. Now lead me to your billiards room. I have a need to trounce you.”

  Chapter 30

  Sewing usually quieted Emily’s emotions and helped her think. She’d been in her sewing room for hours, and turmoil still churned within her.

  She shook out her finished gown and examined the sleeves. They puffed at the shoulder, and had been difficult to sew. Both appeared to be even, but she wouldn’t know until she tried on the dress. She set it down and examined the hem. Because of the heavy fabric, she had chosen to leave it plain. Her gown was green velvet, cut in the latest style according to fashion plates displayed in Ackermann’s Repository of Arts. No embroidery, no ruffles. Just the tiniest bit of lace outlining the wrists and neckline.

  The gown lay before her, a physical embodiment of her creativity and skill. She should be satisfied wi
th her accomplishment, thrilled she’d completed it.

  She was not. Andrew had dashed all her positive feelings to bits, grinding them into dust like a dead leaf beneath his heel.

  Frustration over lack of progress had finally broken her. When he’d tucked her into the warmth of his body at the lake, she’d begun to relax, to feel the soothing power of human touch. Her spirit had sparked, making her believe all would be right if together she and Andrew fought whatever evil had George. Then she’d begged him to come home with her, and what had he done? Chosen to run off to his beloved drug.

  Since George’s abduction, she’d chewed her fingernails to the nub. Every waking moment magnified imagined horrors.

  Aunt Lily fretted over Emily’s state of mind. Aunt, too, was concerned about the boy, but it was Andrew’s problem, Andrew’s responsibility. Let him handle it. He was a grown man.

  Wonderful advice if she wasn’t of an opposite opinion. Every fiber of her being urged her to do something. Anything. A painful sob formed in her throat, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. She swallowed when someone knocked on the door, composing her features.

  Alice entered the sewing room. “A note came for you, my lady. ’Tis from Cardmore Hall.”

  “Thank you. Tell my aunt I’ll be down for tea. My headache is gone, and I wish to have a cup now.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  Emily opened the note. It was from Lord Ralston. “I’m writing this because Andrew refuses, believing you would tear up any notes from him. He has agreed to seek help so he can stop using the drug. I, too, think his reliance on it is unnatural. But we go to London tomorrow to confront Woodley about the boy’s kidnapping, and if Andrew decides to attempt to forego his medication, it must be done at Cardmore Hall, where he can be confined and tended. Don’t give up on him. He’s worth saving.”