With the license safe in his coat pocket, Beck trotted up the steps and knocked on Hart’s door, perhaps a little too loudly in his excitement. “Hello, Billings,” he said to the butler when he opened the door. “Please tell Lady Eliza I’m here.”
Beck walked past him without waiting for an invitation. Then he noticed the butler still had the door open. “Billings? Is anything amiss?”
“I’m not certain, your grace. I understood Lady Eliza to be with you.”
“With me, no. Did she and Marjorie go out? Or Lady Dalcliffe?”
“If you’ll wait in the drawing room, I shall let her grace know you are here.”
Beck wasn’t surprised to hear Eliza had gone out. Most likely, she wanted a special hat to wear, or a bouquet of her favorite flower. Peonies. In her excitement, she probably wanted an entire new wardrobe. He would have the finest seamstress hired to make as many gowns as she wished, once they were safe at home.
Marjorie bustled into the room. “Beck? I thought Eliza was with you.”
“Then she told you? Of course she did. I went to purchase a license so we may be married right away.”
“Yes. And then you sent a servant to bring Eliza to the cathedral.”
He had to force air into his lungs against the tightness of his chest. “No. I did nothing of the sort. What are you talking about?”
“It’s as I said. I came home from morning calls to find Eliza had gone to meet you. One of the servants said you’d sent your carriage for her.”
“Why did he think that? He must have seen the carriage and noticed it wasn’t mine.”
“I doubt the footman gave it another thought. He has no reason to be suspicious.”
He had plenty of reasons, but he’d likely not been warned what to look for. Walter must have discovered where Eliza was. “Did her mother go with her?”
“No, Susan, the maid I assigned her, said that she left by herself. What is it? What do you think happened?” Marjorie stepped closer, grasping his arm. “Is she safe?”
“I suspect her brother. Who else would claim to be me, knowing she wouldn’t question the individual?”
“I don’t understand why he would come for her after all this time. I realize you and Hart wanted Eliza’s return kept quiet, but surely you didn’t think—”
“I wouldn’t put anything past the man. He’s like his father. There’s no sanity in his actions. Is Hart here?”
“No, but he should be home shortly.”
While Beck needed to leave immediately, he needed a plan of some sort, and some idea where to search for Eliza. “Send a servant to Dalcliffe’s town house. When Hart comes home, tell him I’ve gone after Eliza. I assume her brother is taking her home. Hart can find me on the road.”
“I’ll send word to him now. He might catch you before you’ve ridden out of Town.” She squeezed his arm. “Be careful, Beck. Don’t do anything foolish.”
“Foolish.” He laughed angrily. “Nothing I do to see Eliza safe could be foolish. Tell Lady Dalcliffe I’ll have her home soon.”
* * *
Beck was only a few miles outside London when Hart caught up to him. He must have driven his horse as hard as the animal could run. They’d have to stop sooner to rest their horses than Beck had planned.
Dalcliffe’s carriage would travel more slowly than Beck and Hart could, and he’d be required to stop more often. The carriage hadn’t left too long before Beck had, so he should find her soon.
The carriage had stopped at the first two inns where Beck inquired, but the third inn, in Steventon, had only had the stagecoach stop that day, no private conveyances. Beck couldn’t have passed them on the road without noticing, which meant they’d stopped elsewhere.
“Is there another inn in town?” he asked the innkeeper at the third inn.
“Yes. You’ll see it as you leave the village.”
Beck nodded his thanks and went outside where Hart waited. The horses were being watered and given some time to cool down, but Beck couldn’t wait. “They didn’t stop here. He suggests we try the inn down the road. Let’s go now while the horses rest.”
Walking loosened the stiffness in Beck’s thighs but did nothing for the tension throughout the rest of his body. His need to punch Dalcliffe was growing stronger by the minute. Beck’s main reason for having Hart with him was to prevent him from doing something stupid, something that would upset Eliza.
Although, with all he’d put her through, Eliza might care to land a blow or two herself. The idea almost made him smile.
“What’s so funny?” Hart asked.
His friend knew him well enough to notice the twitching of his lips. “I’m imagining Eliza’s first meeting with her brother.” Beck explained what he’d learned about why their wedding had been prevented.
They had to be close. The carriage couldn’t have been that far ahead of them. Dalcliffe was too sure of himself to take an alternate route home, but was he taking her to one of his smaller properties?
It didn’t matter how long it took, Beck would find Eliza this time. Nothing anyone said would convince him she didn’t want to marry him. He knew the truth. She loved him as much as he loved her.
* * *
Eliza paced the small room in the house where the carriage had taken her. As she’d come to suspect, Walter was waiting when she’d been brought inside.
He sat in one of the two chairs, a bottle of whiskey on the table beside him, a half-filled glass in his hand. It wasn’t his first glass since she’d arrived.
She wheeled on him, waving an arm to emphasize her anger. “How can you still be angry over what happened? It’s done. Father’s dead so you have the estate itself. You don’t need another house. If he hasn’t already, Peter will buy a property of his own. Mama doesn’t need her dower house, so there’s another that you control.”
“This isn’t about those other properties, it’s about one. That land was ours.” His drinking hadn’t affected his ability to speak. Yet.
“If it was yours, your solicitor would have proven it. The deed is the final word.”
“No, I have the final word. I might not be able to take my revenge against Conroy, but Beckhampton is the second-best solution.” Walter swallowed what was in his glass and poured another.
“Well, you had your revenge four years ago. Nothing you do now matters.”
“It matters to me. No Conroy will join our family.”
“I’m not marrying a Conroy, I’m marrying Beck. His mother might have been a Conroy, but Beck is a Preston.” Eliza questioned her logic in arguing with Walter. Completely sober, he was obstinate and unbending. The more he drank, the more recalcitrant he became.
“You’re not marrying either. I’ve arranged a wedding to Sir Paul Goodknight.”
“I hope you two will be very happy,” she replied, smirking.
“How droll. As I was saying, he’s purchased a license and is waiting for word when we reach Yorkshire.”
“Yorkshire? That will give Beck plenty of time to find me. You should write Sir Paul and inform him of the change in plans.” Eliza trusted Beck to rescue her this time. He would know she hadn’t left him and would be following not far behind. He could arrive at any moment. She sat in the other chair to wait.