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“Today?” Julia stared at Victoria in disbelief.
Victoria sipped her tea. “Yes.”
“How can you possibly expect me to come up with something suitable in a few hours?”
Expect was too strong a word. Victoria slumped against the blue-striped sofa in the Lady Garforth’s drawing room. She gazed into Julia’s worried face. “More a forlorn hope, actually.”
Apple-green silk skirts rustling softly, Julia got up from behind the tea tray and came around to sit beside Victoria. “Why not wait a day or two? I’m sure I can find something better by then.”
“Better?”
“Dash it, Victoria. Mother mentioned one situation this morning as something she would not wish on anyone. The woman is a veritable tartar.”
Victoria grasped Julia’s hand. “I’ll take it. Maria is pressing me to marry Deveril and I cannot live with a man who drinks every time he has a problem. It’s what my father did and what Michael did. I won’t go through it with a husband.”
A strained expression passed across Julia’s face. “Deveril?”
“Yes.” She grimaced. “Travis put the idea in Maria’s head and she won’t think of anything else.”
Julia dropped her gaze to their joined hands. “I see.”
Victoria’s heart sank. If Julia agreed with Travis, she’d lose her only ally. “I’m afraid if I stay, they will wear me down. I’ve already spent too long enjoying a life of luxury. It’s getting harder all the time to face the prospect of earning a living.”
Julia winced. “You are positive it is what you want?”
“You know it is.”
Her hair a fiery halo against the light from the window, Julia stood, her movements jerky. “Wait here. I’ll get the address.”
While she waited, Victoria paced the elegant drawing room. She appreciated Julia’s concern, but saw no other choice. Any delay and she would once more be swept along by the irresistible force that was Travis.
She’d watched him from her bedroom window first thing this morning. Mounted on his stallion, his stern features satanic in the sharp, early sunlight, his control of the skittish stallion had emphasized his strength of will. He’d glanced up at her window. For a brief instant, their gazes had clashed. Strangely it had felt like a meeting of two lost souls. The feeling had gone as swiftly as it had arrived. Certainly nothing in his face or demeanor indicated he’d seen her at all as he rode away.
At breakfast, Benton announced that earl had left for St. John’s Hall prior to a visit to Europe and he wasn’t expected to return for months.
The hollow sensation in her chest was not caused by the news of his departure. Certainly not that. It was worry about her future. The idea that having issued an edict, he expected her to follow his orders without demure.
He clearly underestimated her strength of will. By leaving he had presented the perfect opportunity to go her own way and marriage to his friend was out of the question.
In anticipation of Julia’s return, she pasted a bright smile on her lips. The future awaited, a future she'd choose.
Moments later, a wooden-faced Julia returned and held out a slip of paper. “This is the address.”
“Thank you.” Victoria hugged her friend’s unyielding form. “Please don’t worry about me, Ju. I’ll do just fine.”
Julia’s bitter laugh struck a sour chord. “I’m sure you will.” Then, as if she regretted her brusqueness, she hesitated. “Do you need money?”
“No. I have a little. Enough to get me to—” Victoria glanced at the paper in her hand “—Selwick in Shropshire. Well, that’s certainly far enough away. Oh, Ju, I will miss you. I can’t thank you enough.”
Julia made a face and threw her arms around Victoria. “Take care of yourself. Write to me when you can.”
Unable to speak around her threatening tears, Victoria nodded. She doubted she would ever see her friend again. They would move in very different circles from now on.
She picked up her reticule, collected her hat and coat from the stolid Garforth butler and made her way out to the waiting carriage. All she had to do now was pack a small bag and slip out of Travis Place unnoticed.
“He’s doing better every day, my lord,” the St. John’s Hall stable master said from his perch on the top rail of the paddock fence.
In the center of the training paddock, Simon nodded in satisfaction. Diablo’s colt, his coat black like his sire’s, had improved by leaps and bounds these past few days. Holding the leading string taut and firm, Simon watched the yearling circle around him.
A fine colt, with an even gait and long legs, he had Diablo’s strength and the elegant lines of his mother’s Arabian bloodlines. Simon had named him Devil’s Spawn and he had the makings of a champion.
Simon wiped at the sweat running into his eyes on his shirtsleeve. After a cloudy start, the day had turned out hot and he’d been putting the young horse through his paces for more than an hour. Nothing like physical labor to clear the mind and tire the body. Unfortunately, exercise didn’t do anything thaw the frozen lump in his chest.
“Someone’s coming, my lord,” the stable master said.
Strange. Simon glanced up. Everyone thought he was in Italy.
“It’s the Marquess of Deveril, my lord.”
Dev? Unease stirred in his gut. Simon brought the colt to a stand. “Very well. That’s enough for today.” He threw the rein to the other man, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket then wiped his face and hands.
He vaulted the paddock fence as Deveril drew his horse alongside. Simon ran a hand down the chestnut’s sweating, foam-flecked neck. “Still riding this carthorse, I see. What brings you here? I thought you agreed to keep an eye on Miss Yelverton.”
Dev dismounted and one of the men ran forward to take the horse. “Thor is nothing like a carthorse. I need a big animal. Your lightweight racehorse would collapse under me in less than an hour.”
Dev’s red-rimmed eyes had a haunted quality. A rough stubble of fair beard shadowed his cheeks and chin. As usual, he appeared to need a drink to steady his nerves.
Panic slithered in Simon’s gut. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Miss Yelverton?”
“Bloody hell. How did you know?”
How? Nothing about Victoria escaped his attention. He glared at Deveril. “For God’s sake, tell me what is wrong.”
“She’s gone.”
The word roused his ire to a venomous rage. “Gone? Gone where?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
Unreasoning anger darkened his mind. Confident he’d left her protected in London, Simon had come here seeking a shred of peace. Dev had let him down again. “Damn you. You are a useless drunken idiot. I should have known better than to leave her in your care.”
Dev put up a hand. “Devil take it, Simon. Cut me some line. She disappeared along with one the men I had watching her. To find her, I need to ask you some questions.”
Excuses didn’t wash. The man had let her slip through his fingers. Simon curled his lip. “Don’t waste my time. I’ll return to London and sort out your mess myself.”
Dev sagged against the rail. “Simon, I’ve ridden for hours to get here, the least you could do is offer me some refreshment and hear what I have to say.”
Simon nodded grimly. The sot would answer his questions while they prepared his carriage. He gave the order to his head groom then led the way across the gravel courtyard to the side door. A scullery maid staggered out with a bucket of water and called greeting to a stable boy polishing a pile of tack. The smell of cooking announced the preparation of the evening meal.
Simon had always liked the business side of the house, its disorderly activity a stark contrast to its noble front. It reminded Simon of the human condition, a bland outer facade hiding the inner turmoil of the guts and the heart of the dwelling.
Today he did not pause in his stride. He swiftly ushered Dev into the small room at the back of the house he used for a study. He never set foot in the rooms his father had used.
Dev lowered his bulk into a padded armchair, a moth-eaten remnant from Simon’s grandfather’s days. Simon perched on the corner of his battle-scarred schoolroom desk, a relic of abuse by countless generations of young St. Johns.
“Brandy?” Simon asked.
Deveril stared at the bottle in Simon’s hand. Need licked at his expression. “No.”
“Something else?”
“Tea.” Deveril sounded as if he had swallowed grit.
If the man was battling his demon, Simon wasn’t about to comment. He didn’t actually care. He rang the bell and the footman appeared within moments to take the request.
“Out with it,” Simon said the moment they were alone.
“I haven’t seen Miss Yelverton since the night we went to the theater. You already know she cried off from Vauxhall. I was busy looking for your scar-faced attacker, so I was glad she refused my escort.”
“And?”
“And I left a friend of mine watching the house. I also told your sharp-witted footman, Wilson, my man was there, so he wouldn’t get suspicious while I spent my time visiting every tavern in the city looking for our villain.”
“No wonder you’re too sick for a brandy,” Simon said, unable to contain his contempt.
Dev winced. “I swear, I haven’t touched a drop since your carriage was held up.” He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his golden head bowed. “You could all have been killed and I would never have forgiven myself. I’m off it for good.”
Simon got to his feet. “Until next time.” He was finished with Dev’s self-absorption. Right now, Victoria could be in terrible danger. Bile rose to choke him.
“Jesus, Simon. You’re a hard bastard. You need my help.”
Leashing his desire to hurt someone—anyone—Simon exhaled, burying his anger deep, nurturing it for when it would serve his purpose. He’d give Deveril one last chance. Only one.
“Very well. I’m listening.”
Dev blew out a breath. “I learned the name of the fellow we are seeking. Quigley. But when I got back to my lodgings last night, a note awaited me from your cousin. Miss Yelverton left yesterday afternoon without a word. My man and Wilson are also missing.”
Simon swore savagely. Had someone taken Victoria to get back at him? He slammed his fist on the desk. “Damnation! I never should have left.” He glared at Dev. “I thought you could at least handle a simple task like guarding a woman.”
“Damn it, Simon. We assumed they wanted you, not Victoria.”
Once more, Simon reined in his anger. “You’re right. I thought I’d flush them out by coming here alone.”
“I guessed as much. I have a man here watching you, too.”
Simon ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. A man hanging about here probably frightened them off and sent them Victoria’s way. Either that or they are completely incompetent.”
Dev narrowed his eyes. “They might not be under my command anymore, but I would trust them with my life and the life of any friend of mine.”
At the footman’s knock, Simon got up and let him in, waiting in silence until he placed a silver tray with a pot of tea and two cups on the sideboard. Simon handed him the brandy decanter. “Put this in the library, please.” He might as well remove the temptation.
Dev got up and poured the tea.
Simon slouched against the desk. “Devil take it. What the hell do we do now?”
“Did Miss Yelverton have a reason to leave Travis Place?”
Simon bristled then caught Deveril’s shrewd gaze. Several good reasons for Victoria wishing to leave occurred to Simon. “She never wanted to be there in the first place.”
“If she left of her own free will, there may be nothing to worry about. My man followed her here to St John’s Hall four nights ago and reported back to me when she arrived back inreturned to Town. He’s probably following her now and will report in when she reaches her destination. Here, take your tea.”
The bone-china cup and saucer seemed doll-house-size in the large man’s hand. Simon took it mechanically. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
Dev sipped at his tea. “Any idea where she might have gone?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared without saying anything. She must have gone to Ogden. His gut twisted. He clenched his jaw. Better she was with Ogden than dead or hurt, he supposed. A little better. He took a deep breath.
Dev gave him a penetrating stare. “Strange she didn’t leave a note?”
“Perhaps she forgot. One thing is certain, she didn’t go to Harrogate.”
“Harrogate?” Wheels turned behind Dev’s questioning expression.
“She has an aunt there. She definitely wouldn’t go there.”
“Exceedingly helpful, that. One place we can cross off the list.”
Simon stared at the cup and saucer in his hand and took a mouthful. Disgusting pap. He put the cup on the desk. “I don’t have a clue where she would have gone.”
“The day before she disappeared, she visited the Garforth’s’ townhouse. Had tea with Lady Ju.”
“Lady Julia.” Simon rubbed his stubble-rough chin. A surge of hope stopped his breath as he recalled the wicked gleam in Julia’s eye when she sauntered out of Victoria’s bedroom. “Now that is interesting. Those two are as thick as thieves. I’ll bet a pony Lady Julia is involved somehow.” Simon leaped to his feet and strode to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To speak to Lady Ju.”
“I’d like a word with the man I left here first, if you don’t mind.”
“The sooner I have words with Lady Julia, the sooner I believe we will know Miss Yelverton’s whereabouts.”
“It won’t take long.” Deveril gave him a sly grin. “Ring the bell for the footman who brought the tea. He’s probably waiting right outside.”
The young man appeared the instant Simon dragged on the bell rope. Of average height and build, brownish hair and sort of brown eyes, he was most unremarkable. He paused in the doorway.
“It’s all right, James, his lordship knows,” Deveril said. “Have you learned anything while you’ve been here?”
Baffled, Simon shook his head. How could he not have realized Dev had planted this man inside his house? Because he’d been too busy trying not to think at all.
“I saw your man,” James said. “He drinks at the Bell and Cat. Came in two nights ago. Scar over his right eye, burly, balding with over long, brown hair. He’s the Marquess of Northdown’s gamekeeper.”
Ogden’s father. Simon cursed.
“Aye,” James agreed. “Seems Quigley is away from the estate quite a bit. Often accompanies Viscount Ogden on his travels. At the moment, the viscount has taken up residence at Du Plessy House. A repairing lease the servants say.”
“Pockets to let again, no doubt,” Simon muttered.
If Ogden was still here, he couldn’t be responsible for Victoria’s disappearance. Relief rushed though him. “Actually, Ogden arrived the same day Victoria was here,” Simon said. “Seems he and this Quigley have nothing to do with her disappearance.”
“There were at least five men at the hold up,” Dev pointed out. “Anything else, James?”
“Not really, my lord. Quigley had a couple of tankards with me and left the inn around midnight. Asked questions about the doings of his lordship here.” He gestured at Simon. “Asking who was at the Hall. That kind of thing. I followed him to a small cottage on the Du Plessy estate then returned here. He didn’t show up at the Bell last night.”
Simon exchanged a glance with Dev. Quigley might be involved then.
“Thank you, James.” Dev said. “You can head back to London now.”
“Right, Major.” The young man cut short a salute and grinned sheepishly.
“Not major any more, James. If you don’t mind.”
“Yes, my lord. Sorry.”
“Please continue to keep an eye on his lordship, until further notice.”
“Not necessary,” Simon protested. “What’s next?”
“Follow up on Quigley.”
“Then take James with you. I should be safe enough calling on Lady Ju.”
Dev nodded. “Very well. But meet me afterwards, at the club. You might want to enlist Garforth’s help when you interview the lady.”
“Ju’s brother? He might not take kindly to me questioning his sister.”
“He won’t mind if you tell him the full story.”
Dev set his cup and saucer on the tray. Despite his seedy appearance, the man had an air of purposefulness. He seemed more like the man Simon had grown to respect when he first met him, the man as he had been, before he ran aground on Genevieve Longbourne’s rocky shore.
The imposing cream-painted door slammed in Victoria’s face. The lady of the house had taken one scathing look at her husband’s leer as Victoria stood in the entrance hall and announced the position of governess was filled.
Victoria glanced at the paper in her hand and back at the grimly silent front door. Now what was she to do?
Disappointment weighed heavy on her shoulders. She turned her back on the gray stone house and began the trudge to the nearest village. It lay six miles along the road she had traveled full of high hopes, having been given a ride by a carter from Wrexford. With most of her money gone—used to pay for her four-day journey—and no position, her circumstances had changed for the worst.
Beautiful Shropshire stretched before her, green in the valleys, smoky gray and purple on the surrounding hills and peaceful in the afternoon sun. The road ahead undulated into the distance. And when she got to the village? What then? Her stomach rumbled an answer. Food. She would buy some bread then seek employment. Someone must need her services.
She hefted her valise into her other hand, squared her shoulders and lengthened her stride. She did not want to be out on the road after dark.
More than an hour later a small, irritating pebble found its way into her shoe. The road was rough and rutted enough without added torture. Victoria sat down on the verge, unfastened her sandal and shook out the offending stone. Bother that. It had shredded her stocking and she only had one other pair.
She rubbed her aching sole. Finding it soothing, she removed her other shoe and wiggled her toes. Overcome by a sense of exhaustion, she leaned back against the wall. She’d barely slept a wink the past four nights. Unable to afford the cost of a room, she’d traveled day and night to get here, with only the odd nap in the stagecoach. The sun was so warm... her eyes drifted closed.
Victoria jerked awake with a horrid sense of falling. She stared at the grass inches from her face. What? Heavens, she must have drifted off and slept for an hour or more judging by the position of the sun. Foolish indeed. She could have been robbed, or worse.
In short order, she buckled her shoes then rose. She would need to hurry if she was going to reach the village before dark.
The sound of a vehicle caused her heart to lift. Only to dash it down when she realized it was trundling towards her. If it had been going her way, she would have been hopeful of obtaining another ride. She retreated to the edge of the verge near the wall. The road was narrow and she did not want to frighten the horses. A gentleman’s sky-blue phaeton pulled by two chestnut horses came around the corner. Something about the vehicle seemed familiar.
The shabby, ill-dressed driver, on the other hand, was a stranger and did not fit the elegance of his equipage. Likely he was a servant on an errand for his master. He drew up his horses when he came abreast of her.
“Miss?”
Surprised, she nodded. “May I help you?”
“Does you know if there is a turn off to Shrewsbury further up this road?”
Her nape prickled with a strange premonition, but she had no reason to be rude. It was a fair question, since from his accent he was not from these parts.
She gave him a regretful smile. “I’m not terribly familiar with the roads in this area, but I believe Shrewsbury is in the other direction.”
He gazed at her intently, as if he somehow recognized her. A shiver went down her spine. “Good day to you, sir.” She began walking.
Behind her, she heard the carriage turning around. Well he would—she had told him he was heading in the wrong direction for Shrewsbury. But she really didn’t like the look of him, or the way he had looked at her. Something felt wrong.
He drove slowly alongside her.
Victoria kept walking as if she hadn’t noticed. He did not pass her. Why would he not take the hint and continue on his way?
“Can I give you a lift, miss?”
A few moments ago she would have been delighted at the offer. Now, she had the feeling it would be a very bad idea. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. “No, thank you.”
He flicked his whip and pulled ahead of her.
A grateful sigh rushed from her body. He was finally giving up. When he stopped the carriage after traveling but few yards and jumped down. Victoria’s heart began to pound uncomfortably. She glanced left and right. Nothing but fields and sheep for miles. She halted and watched him warily, backing away as he got closer.
“Keep your distance, sirrah.”
He peered at her. “Now then, miss. I only want to give you a ride. Can’t leave you out here walking all by yourself.”
“I don’t need a lift. I’m expecting someone.”
His straggly moustache waggled as his lips split in a grin and revealed yellow-stained teeth. “Are you now? Then I needs hurry up.” He lunged for her.
Victoria started to run, back the way she had come. One shoe went flying. Sharp rocks dug into her foot. His footsteps pounded behind her. Getting closer. A shove in the center of her back. She crashed headlong to the ground.
Pain. In her hands. Her knees. Gasping, she rolled over pressing her stinging palms against her ribs. Tears blurred her vision. A shadow blocked the sun. She glared up at her tormentor. “Get away from me.”
He grunted. “Up you come, missy.” His hands gripped her arm painfully as he hauled her to her feet.
She tried to pull free. His grip tightened. Victoria shuddered at the grim expression on his face. “Let go.”
“Sorry about that.” He began brushing the dust off her skirts.
She shoved his hands away. “Do not touch me.”
“Nah, nah. Don’t fret. No need to be ascared. The master won’t be happy if’n I damages you.”
She twisted out of his grip. “What master?”
“’Nuff said. Now why doesn’t you get in that there bone-shaker, all nice like, and everything will be right and dandy.”
Prickles of fear trickled down her back. “Certainly not.” She swung her valise at his head.
He dodged and grinned. The disgusting smell his breath—beer, onions and pipe smoke—turned her stomach. She backed away. “Leave. Go now or find yourself in trouble.”
Reaching out, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, one hand pressed firmly against her spine, his other arm wrapped around her knees. “Put me down!”
Seemingly oblivious to her flailing hands on his back and her feet kicking his chest, he toted her to the waiting coach.