LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Belle restlessly paced her chamber, awaiting the arrival of Lord Egremont. To the note she’d dispatched when they arrived, asking that he wait upon her at his earliest convenience, he’d returned a message promising to call today.
Important as the information was that she wished to convey, she was finding it impossible to keep her mind from returning to the shocking sight of her sister—riding in Jack Carrington’s company.
The other young lady might have been Jack’s sister, though Belle had been so wholly focused on Kitty she could not now recall if there’d been some familial resemblance. Happy as she was at this evidence that her sister was mingling with the best of society, she had to admit that, after the panic of almost meeting Jack faded, her next reaction had been an ignoble and intense jealousy.
It was one thing to wish for Captain Carrington to discover a pretty, charming young lady to make his wife. Yet another to think it might be her own sister who ended up wedding the man Belle might as well admit she loved.
Was this to be fate’s final, ultimate jest?
Still, she had persevered all these years to provide her sister precisely this chance to take her place in the ton and secure her future. And though no man could ever be completely trusted, Jack Carrington was the most worthy Belle had yet encountered. If he and her sister should develop a mutual affection, she should be glad for them.
She supposed she had always clung to the hope that someday, when Kitty was safe and settled, Belle might try contacting her. Though she’d risk discovering that her sister, after learning what Belle had become, had no desire to acknowledge the connection between them.
But it would be a risk well worth the taking as long as a chance remained that Kitty still harbored for her a glimmer of the same deep affection she bore her sister.
Belle might become part of a family again.
Such an eventuality would be impossible, however, should Kitty contract an alliance with Jack Carrington.
It would be of some comfort to know the two people she cared most for in the world had found happiness together.
Lonely as that comfort might be.
A knock sounded at the door. Shaking off her increasingly painful thoughts, she bade the caller enter.
Jem bounced in and gave her his jagged-toothed smile. “Watson says there’s a gent waiting below to see you.”
“Thank you, Jem. Tell him I’ll be down directly.”
“No need to hurry—it ain’t the captain, though I thought I seen him by the mews.”
Longing and consternation flooded her. “When?”
“’Bout long enough ago for a cat to wash her ear. I thought sure it must be him calling, but I flashed my peepers into the parlor and ’twas just some old gent in a frock coat,” Jem noted. “Mayhap he’ll call later.”
“You were probably mistaken about seeing him,” she replied, as much for her own sake as for his. “Now that he has recovered, he doubtless has pressing business.”
“Man ought not to forgit his friends,” the boy said. “Didn’t we keep him body and soul for nigh on a month?”
“The captain…occupies a different place in the world.”
“Well, he mighta been a nob born, but he didn’t act the nob whiles he was here,” Jem countered stubbornly. “I’ll be right disappointed if he don’t come calling. I’ll tell the other gent you be coming down.”
Jack, here? Belle couldn’t let herself consider the possibility, alarmed by the wild hope the mere thought of it sent soaring within her.
Belle shook her head as Jem walked out. He’d been severely let down when they’d gone to Bellehaven, leaving him in London to continue his training and depriving him of the company of the soldier he so admired. Watson reported he’d about driven poor Lawton to distraction with his antics. Since she returned, he’d shadowed Belle as she went through her daily activities.
Out of gratitude for her kindness—or because he hoped to inveigle his way into any visit his idol might pay her?
Though Jem was likely to be disappointed. Belle could think of few things less likely, after their bitter parting, than Jack Carrington voluntarily calling on her.
And ’twas better that way, no matter how much it hurt. Or so she told herself as she tried to focus on the information she was to deliver to Egremont.
“MON ANGE,” Egremont said as she entered the parlor. “London has been a wasteland without you.”
She stiffened slightly, recalling what she’d lately learned of his true feelings toward her, but he saluted her hand with quite proper brevity and released it. Thank heavens, she thought, relaxing, that he’d meant his vow to treat her only with friendship. Here, too, was a man who had proved himself faithful and stalwart.
“With all London’s amusements?” she parried, smiling.
“Amusements lose their power without an agreeable companion to share them. But your note surprised me. I thought you intended to remain longer in the country.”
“I did,” she replied, gesturing him to a chair. “But there were developments which I felt merited your immediate attention.”
She proceeded to tell him everything that had occurred since she’d left London. Except for a muttered curse when she described the attack on them outside the City, he listened without interruption.
“You’ve done excellent work,” Egremont said as he looked over the statements she’d collected from Sergeant Jackman, his associates and several of the girls whom the recruiter had harangued. “Shall I ask the Home Office to find you a position in their organization?”
“I shall have my reward if someone there believes the situation serious enough to pursue. Though Jackman was willing, I did not wish him to approach Mr. Harris, thinking it would be better to let your contacts handle that. They will take action now, don’t you think?”
Egremont nodded. “The testimony of a single young girl of…shall we say, limited credibility, might be discounted, but these—” he indicated the statements she’d handed him “—will not. There will be an inquiry.”
Relief flooded Belle. “That’s all I hoped for—and that they act swiftly, before any more girls are harmed.”
His face thoughtful, Egremont continued, “If this scheme is as far-reaching as it appears, there must be considerable capital in it. After you left, I did a bit of investigating myself. A number of the men who patronize Mrs. Jarvis are quite wealthy, some of them highly placed. The inquiry will have to proceed…delicately.”
“To avoid embarrassing certain noblemen of means?”
Egremont raised an eyebrow. “You wound me, mon ange. Surely you know that if there is wrongdoing afoot, I shall see it revealed, however noble the persons involved.”
Chagrined, for she knew Egremont had never indulged in any of the excesses practiced by some of his peers, she murmured, “Forgive me.”
He gave her a wry smile. “You have reason enough to doubt the motives of men, I suppose. But what I meant was, if this enterprise is as profitable as it is extensive, the men funding it would likely take strong measures to prevent its discovery. As the investigation goes forward, it might become dangerous if someone were to trace any of the responsibility for it back to Jane—or you. We shall have to move carefully to avoid that.”
Belle nodded. “Although Sergeant Jackman felt the risks now are probably small, I didn’t wish to take chances either. I’ve had him quietly remove Jane from Bellehaven. My household there believes she accompanied me; Mae and Watson think she stayed behind. In actuality, Jackman took her to stay with his family near Brighton. With,” Belle added with a smile, “a trunk of my gowns to alter to keep her occupied until the investigation is concluded.”
“Good. If for any reason she must leave Brighton, I’ll see her safely settled on one of my properties.”
“Thank you! That is most kind.”
Frowning, Egremont pressed Belle’s hand. “That attack on you troubles me. I would offer to settle you on one of my properties for safekeeping, if I thought you’d accept.”
“Which you know I cannot, much as I appreciate the offer.” Though Belle trusted Egremont’s honorable intentions, she did not want to enter into any arrangement, however innocent, which might be misunderstood by that gentleman’s wife. “Two of the sergeant’s assistants are still here in London. Their continued presence in my house shall ward off any trouble.”
“’Tis a good first step, but I’d as lief you have them accompany you whenever you go about the City. And no solitary morning rides,” he added.
Her mind immediately recalled the image of Jack trotting by in the fog, oblivious to her presence. Sorrow squeezed her chest and she had to struggle to keep her expression neutral and the tears at bay.
“Now that I’ve conveyed to you what I know, I don’t mean to tarry in London. You will send me word of how the investigation proceeds?”
“Of course. Although I should feel more comfortable if you would remain for a time in the City, where I can watch after your safety. At least until I know where the investigation might lead. Will you consider it?”
“I will,” she agreed. Was it gratitude for his concern, or the gnawing desire to catch another glimpse of Kitty—or Jack—that led her to acquiesce so quickly? “I’ll not be going out, though.”
“Ah, yes. You don’t wish to have Rupert or the rest of his rabble discover you’ve returned. I do hope you’ll allow me to call on you—discreetly, of course.”
“Of course. I am always glad of your company.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” he replied. “Now, what else is troubling you, mon ange?”
Surprised, Belle shot a glance back at Egremont, to find in his eyes a sympathetic—and uncomfortably perceptive—concern. She felt her face coloring.
“The captain, I suppose.” Egremont sighed. “Would that I had the right to be jealous. Should I be happy for you, my dear, or sad?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Happy and sad,” she said after considering the question.
“You know I would do anything to spare you pain. If I can help in any way, call on me.”
Belle felt the burn of tears beneath her eyelids. “You are too kind, but there is…nothing.”
While she struggled to regain the self-control thoughts of Jack seemed to jeopardize so easily, Egremont said, “And Mae? Can she keep your presence a secret?”
Grateful he’d moved the conversation to a less distressing topic, Belle smiled wryly. “She did promise not to breathe a word of it, but I doubt she can remain silent long. She hasn’t the least talent for deception.”
“Yes, but she possesses so kind a heart, one cannot hold her indiscretion against her. Since in that case, your sojourn here may be briefer than I’d like, will you dine with me tonight?”
She angled a glance at him. “I cannot believe in doing so that you would not be disappointing several hostesses to whom you are already promised.”
He shrugged. “London will be available to me all Season. As I recall, I was two games ahead at whist?”
Her evenings had seemed particularly long and empty since Jack went away. Egremont’s intelligent, witty conversation and his flattering predilection for her company were a balm her troubled soul found hard to resist.
“Very well. But if the hostesses you disappoint give you the cut direct the next time you encounter them, I refuse to accept any of the blame!”
TWO DAYS LATER, after riding at the most grueling pace he’d sustained since on one of Wellington’s forced marches, Jack at last entered the village of Eastwold. Set upon a small rise and backed by a pretty wood, with its thatch-roofed, half-timbered dwellings he found it as charming as Miss Germayne had reported.
The Cock and Crown was housed in one of the larger of such buildings, adjacent to the main road. He decided to bespeak a room and dinner so that he might observe the inn, its owners and its clientele at his leisure.
After lifting a few tankards of home-brewed with the local farmers, he learned that the innkeepers had owned the establishment for the last twenty years. Surely they would remember an event as singular as having two guests die under their roof—though they might be loath to speak of it. As soon as a suitable opening arose, Jack would inquire.
Unfortunately, the taproom was bustling all evening, keeping the innkeeper too busy for Jack to engage him in conversation. Not until he took his breakfast in the relatively deserted dining room the next morning did Jack judge the time propitious to question the man.
Laying some coins on the table, he said, “I’ll be on my way shortly. I do thank you for your hospitality. Your establishment came highly recommended, and I’m happy to find the reputation well deserved.”
The innkeeper straightened, preening a little. “Glad to hear it, m’lord. We have a fine snug place here, if I do say so, and my wife be the best cook in two counties.”
“Indeed she is,” Jack said, winking at the lady in question, who blushed as she cleared his table.
“Who was it recommended us?” the innkeeper said.
“A friend of my sister’s. The story my sister passed on to me was unusual enough that I’ve always remembered the name, vowing I should stop here if I ever passed this way.”
“Gratified you thought of us, m’lord, and hope you’ll pass along the good word to your friends.”
Jack added a few extra coins to the stack. “My sister said her friend’s mother fell ill and they took shelter here, but despite the efforts of everyone involved, the mother died. This happened, oh, seven or so years ago.”
The innkeeper exchanged an uneasy glance with his wife. “Aye, m’lord, though my recollections are a bit hazy after so long. Sorry we was, though it weren’t none of our fault.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Jack agreed, watching the innkeeper visibly relax. “My sister said she remarked how kind and helpful you and your wife had been.”
“I’m gratified she thought so, for a big storm having blown up, we was full of guests right up to the rafters!”
“I seem to recall the older sister staying behind to nurse her mother,” Jack continued, trying to keep his voice light, despite the excitement pulsing in his veins. “But I do not perfectly recall the rest. Did she do so?”
The innkeeper darted a glance at his wife, then cleared his throat. “Aye, she did—and died, too. A perfect shame it was, she being so young and pretty.”
That flat avowal struck a blow through the fragile web of speculations Jack had painstakingly constructed. But perhaps the man was mistaken. He’d admitted his inn was full and his recollections hazy.
“Are you quite sure? I rather thought that a party of friends happened by and bore the sister off with them.”
“Don’t I wish they had,” the innkeeper said. “But sorry as I am to say it, m’lord, the girl died but a few days after her mother. They’s buried in the churchyard just outside town, if you’d like to pay your respects.”
Disappointment scoured him. A man’s memory might be faulty, but there could be no disputing with a tombstone. “Perhaps I will.”
As much as he didn’t want to believe the innkeeper, when Jack made his way to the cemetery, the evidence seemed incontrovertible. The graves sat side by side, each marked with a pretty, carved stone tablet. Constance Germayne, departed this earth in the fourteenth year of her life…
So it was coincidence after all, Jack thought, the crushing of his hopes making his steps drag as he returned to the inn. What a fool he was, chasing after improbable rainbows, trying to create an identity for Belle that might enable him, without abandoning the duty he owed his family, to pursue the woman he loved.
As he entered the now-deserted taproom, the innkeeper’s wife peeped out from the kitchen. When he waved a goodbye, she motioned him to wait, then rapidly crossed the room.
After glancing over her shoulder as if to confirm they were alone, she said in a low voice, “My husband’s a good man who doesn’t want no trouble with anyone. Still, I weren’t never happy about what happened with that poor girl. Something in your eyes made me think you was more interested than you tried to let on.”
“What do you know?” Jack asked, pulling out a coin.
“I don’t want your money, m’lord. Did you come on behalf of her family?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me tell you what really happened.”
TWO MORNINGS LATER, Belle sipped her chocolate, debating whether or not she would ride. Thus far, each morning she’d succumbed to the temptation, though she had not, since that first day, had a glimpse of either her sister or Jack.
But this morning, except for the sooty haze that always wrapped about London’s rooftops like a gauzy shawl, it appeared the day would be clear. Sunny weather would make everything in the park brighter and more visible.
Though Kitty, not expecting to see Belle, might happen upon her from a very short distance and not recognize her, the same could not be said for Captain Carrington. Belle had little doubt he would be able to discern her identity a considerable ways off, as she could his.
She wasn’t sure whether it would be sweet torture or the worst of folly to deliberately chance meeting him.
She was still mulling over the question when her door burst open and Jem erupted into the room.
“He’s here! Down in the parlor right this minute! Didn’t I tell you he’d call! C’mon, my lady,” Jem admonished as she sat there, shocked into immobility. “Git yer togs on. The Captain be waiting for you!”