Lady Stanwyck exchanged worried looks with her husband.
In the corner of the room, Alexander seemed to have grown taller.
“Nonsense,” he said. His eyes bore into hers.
Caroline swallowed. She needed to be firm. Somewhere inside her were the dying embers of the fantasy that he would sweep her up, put her in his coach, and rush to find Nelly, then make wild love to her and never let her go.
But she remembered who she was.
And who he was.
She was not a girl a man like him would fall in love with.
She was an unemployed, penniless woman whose only family was a belligerent, battle-addled brother.
A tear streaked down her face. She needed to save Nelly from the humiliation she experienced in life.
Nelly had been her responsibility. If she was going to save the girl from a terrible mistake, she needed to do it herself.
She called him careless.
He turned away from Caroline so she couldn’t see how the word affected him. He was certain his face went gray. But she wouldn’t know why.
Lady Stanwyck turned to Caroline. Pain pinched her pretty features.
“No, the men should go.”
Finally, someone else was speaking sense to stop this ridiculous idea.
In response, Caroline released Lady Stanwyck’s hand.
“Nelly is my responsibility. I will retrieve her,” she said again, this time with more conviction.
Alexander ground his teeth in a way that hurt his jaw.
“Impossible,” he said, more to himself than the others in the room. He said no more when Caroline met his stare and narrowed her eyes.
Her cheeks were flushed, and tendrils of hair floated around her face. Ironically, she was more beautiful than ever.
“Really? And who else’s responsibility should she be?” she demanded.
He stared at the small woman for a moment.
Finally, he could no longer hold his tongue.
“You cannot go by yourself. You are an unprotected female. If you find Miss Featherton, you will be two unprotected females.”
He needed to make her see how dangerous her plan was. Someone had to.
Caroline rolled her eyes at him and balled her fists. “Do you really think you’re more likely to find her than I?”
“Yes, actually, I do.”
“You know nothing about her,” Caroline snapped.
Alexander said nothing. Did she really want him to say it out loud?
“I know that I am male. And an earl. That and a few crowns should be sufficient to open most doors and get servants to talk. And I am less likely to be robbed and left for dead on the highway.”
Caroline’s eyes burned in anger.
She could be as angry as she liked. It was true.
“If I have a carriage and a footman and a driver, I will be fine.” She looked to Lord and Lady Stanwyck as she spoke. “Besides, as a female, I have access to dress shops and other places she may be found that a male won’t.”
Behind them, two older women stepped into the room looking for the mid-morning tea that was usually served there, completely unaware of the tension in the room.
One of them looked from the empty sideboard to Lady Stanwyck.
“Oh, is there no tea?”
Lady Stanwyck walked to them, even in a crisis, all elegance. “We have tea in the breakfast room.” She nodded to a flustered servant and guided them toward the door.
“It is impossible for you to go to Scotland by yourself,” Alexander said lowly, in almost a growl.
“Scotland?” One of the older women, the one who’s name he didn’t know, but he thought of as Mrs. Buffalo, stopped short. “Is someone going to Scotland?”
“I am,” Caroline replied.
The woman smiled. “That is my homeland. May I ask where are you going?”
Caroline opened her mouth to answer, but Alexander stopped her.
“This trip is private business, I’m afraid. We can’t say anymore.”
“Oh, how mysterious,” Mrs. Buffalo said. “Is this about the young lady who’s missing? I’ve meant to make a trip back there myself. It’s been decades since I’ve been.”
Blast, the other guests already knew Nelly was gone. So much for discretion.
Caroline found her way to Mrs. Buffalo’s side.
She smiled boldly. “I am planning a trip very soon. Do you have any desire to accompany me?”
Alexander couldn’t believe his ears.
No. This couldn’t be allowed.
Mrs. Buffalo’s wrinkled face broke into a smile. “Actually, I do.”
Lady Stanwyck’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s an interesting idea,” she mused.
“There, I have a chaperone,” Caroline said triumphantly.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. She couldn’t really be considering this plan.
If she wanted to travel to Scotland with an elderly woman and be robbed or murdered trying to find a spoiled brat, he’d let them go.
He’d show her who was careless.
He stalked out of the room.
Caroline watched Alexander stride out, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner as he left. She needn’t be focused on his shoulders or any other part of him now, not with so much to do before she left. He made her feel like a silly schoolgirl who couldn’t think straight. The less of him she saw, the better. She turned back to the older woman and curled her arm into hers.
“Do you truly want to go to Scotland immediately?”
She smiled brightly. “It’s been my dream to return before I died. I grew up outside Dumfries, and I do have my own coach...”
She kept talking as Caroline’s mind flickered to the list of things she needed to do before they left.
She could do this. They could go to Gretna Green on the way to Dumfries, and she could send the woman off with a footman once she’d found Nelly. It wasn’t the kindest plan, but she was helping her get to Scotland, at least.
“She is absolutely pig-headed,” Alexander said to Percy when they were both alone in his office. “And dangerously foolish. You cannot allow her to go.”
Percy rubbed his chin with one hand and closed his eyes.
“Wolfolk, the girl has left or been taken from my household. Am I not obligated to provide a sound carriage and reliable footmen? I will be the talk of London as the host who lost the incomparable to a cad. Married women will stop talking to me altogether.” He paused, considering. “Although that may be worth it.”
Alex ignored his friend’s joke.
“But to let her lady’s companion and an elderly woman go to find her? It’s madness.”
“In my crested carriage with my footman,” Percy reminded him. “You or I cannot go with them. That will expose Miss Holland to more gossip. We can only hope they may find her quickly and quietly.” Percy toyed with an ink quill on his desk. “Mrs. Ruffalo is aging, but not elderly. She was quite a world traveler in her time. After her husband died...”
Alex cut him off, savagely slamming his hand on the desk. “I don’t care about Mrs. Buffalo.”
“Ruffalo.” Stanwyck smoothed down the quills on the ink pen.
Finally, he met his old friend’s furious gaze.
“Who do you care about, then?”
For the first time in a long time, Alexander could not answer..
She hated him.
That was Caroline’s one thought as the footman heaved the last pieces of luggage on the coach an hour later. They were preparing to leave, and she had not seen him since he stomped from the room.
Hang him, she mumbled under her breath.
Only Lord and Lady Stanwyck and Alice stood outside in the warm sunlight to see them off, along with Mrs. Ruffalo’s friend. Minutes ticked by, and it was clear he would not come down.
That was fine, she thought as the footman secured the last trunk. She didn’t want to see him anyway, but her breath hitched as she glanced up at Howsham’s lo
vely facade one last time. She didn’t have the time to examine the sadness she felt at leaving the place. There would be plenty of time to take apart her emotions in the three or so days ahead on the road.
She wondered if Lady Stanwyck understood her feelings as she pulled Caroline in for another last warm embrace.
“We will be awaiting word from you,” she said into her ear and Lord Stanwyck nodded briskly. He, too, glanced back at the etched glass of the windows on the upper floors of the apartment as if expecting to see someone there.
Finally, the coachman nodded, and she climbed inside the plush coach to sit across from Mrs. Ruffalo, who held a fat pug in her lap.
“This is Mr. Charles. Mr. Charles, say hello,” she instructed and then seemed surprised when he simply blinked.
It was another warm day, and they lowered the windows to enjoy the fresh air, despite the urgent nature of their trip.
“Please write us if you need anything,” Stanwyck said once more. “Hopefully we will see you in a few days.”
Caroline smiled, nodded and leaned back in her seat. It was an absurdly lavish coach, but she was happy for the comforts, for Mrs. Ruffalo’s sake at least Mr. Charles slumped back against his mistress, already asleep.
Another footman emerged from Howsham in traveling garb. He was a large, hulking man she wasn’t sure she had seen before. He joined the lead coachman on top of the coach. She supposed Stanwyck had added another footman for their safety, which she appreciated.
Then, the coach began lumbering down the drive. She waved briefly then turned to look away so she wouldn’t cry.
11
Alexander sat in his room as the coach trundled away.
There, she was gone now.
Careless, indeed.
He sat at the large desk in his bedchamber, attempting to comprehend letters from his estate manager at his ancestral seat. He read the same sentences about crop rotation several times, not taking in its meaning. Finally, he slapped the letter down, took a breath, and stood up to stretch his legs.
He supposed he should be pleased Caroline saved him from making a trip to Scotland himself, but he wasn’t. Without meaning to, his eyes turned to the window.
Damnation. She was out there in a coach somewhere, essentially alone, with only an old widow for company. He pulled his gaze away from the window and back to his papers. She and Miss Featherton were not his responsibility.
And he wasn’t careless. What she couldn’t have known is that he’d been called that before.
Caroline and Nelly were not like Eugenie. He had no understanding with either of them. Hell, he wasn’t sure he liked them. Or maybe he liked one of them too much. He didn’t know anymore.
He walked to the cut crystal decanter, poured himself a slug of brandy and threw it back quickly to chase away his muddled thoughts. Standing up and moving around felt better than sitting. He needed more physical activity, a ride or walk to clear his head. Impulsively, he pulled off his morning coat and changed into his riding jacket. Yes, a long, solitary ride would help to sweep away the memories of Caroline’s eyes beseeching his.
Ever since their argument, he’d had tightness in his chest and felt as though he couldn’t quite dissipate. He couldn’t get Caroline’s face out of his head when she suggested Nelly’s leaving was at least partly his fault. He knew it wasn’t logically true, but words stung and worsened his guilt over Eugenie. And now if anything befell Nelly or Caroline, he would again blame himself.
But really, how many young women’s lives could be inadvertently ruined by one earl?
He rubbed his fingers on his temples to relieve the pressure he felt he felt in his head. Hell and damnation, he grabbed his hat and made his way to the stables.
An hour later, he was in a saddle, heading toward the forests around Howsham. The scent of the damp, loamy earth and the rhythm of his horse underneath him helped settle him, although a thought still buzzed at him like a fly.
Was he to blame?
He urged his mount from a trot to a canter as they crossed the last fields before the woods.
Was Eugenie’s death his fault?
Dark fear coursed through him. His friends and family told him he wasn’t to blame, but recalling how he came home from the pub to find her pale, lifeless body slumped on her bed after she died, in his core he knew otherwise.
He was her husband.
He should have protected her. Everyone knew that, even if they didn’t say it. What kind of husband goes drinking at a pub while his wife is ill and left with only the servants left to care for her?
He tried not to think about the blur of events leading up to her death. But images built up in his mind. The young man’s eyes that haunted him the most.
A young man who came and sought him out, there in the pub, in front of everyone that night. A boy who did errands around his house. He approached him in the dark pub, pulling his battered cap from his head. The boy’s eyes were red rimmed and fearful. He told him Eugenie’s illness had taken a grave turn and his lord should come home and tend to her.
He saw it in the boy’s eyes.
Shame.
Alexander knew the boy had always looked up to him, but that night, he could see his wariness, and worse, embarrassment for his master’s actions. He saw it instantly, and he knew.
He should have been there. He had failed.
Alexander thought the illness was Eugenie’s hysteria. She always made a big show of being ill when she caught the slightest cough. It was never easy with her. But then, he was told that’s how some women were. And he married a beautiful one, weren’t those especially so?
Alexander’s horse reached the dark shade of the forest, and he welcomed coolness after racing in the sun. He had run some of the legs out from under his horse, and he decided they both deserved some water.
He dismounted and produced a water bladder, cupping some in his hands for his horse before taking a long sip himself. He saw through the trees that the sky in the west was darkening and lightning streaked across the clouds.
It was going to rain. The damp air made his shirt cling to his chest.
Finally, unable to decide what more he could do, he sat on a nearby rock and watched the grey clouds roll across the sky.
He had been in a pub because he and Eugenie had been barely talking for weeks. He never knew the mood she’d be in when he came home, but more often than not, it was prickly irritation. She became easily annoyed with tiny details, an invisible strand of fabric on the hem of her dress, the condition of the flowers in the sitting room, their seats at the opera. Nothing was ever quite good enough.
Alexander exhaled. No reason to recall how they hadn’t been happy. It didn’t matter now.
The line of clouds darkened into an angry gray band across the sky. His horse whinnied and nudged him, reminding him they should get back to the stables before the rain. Over the hills, he could see the line of a nasty storm already coming down in the north miles away.
In the north.
He stopped and looked again.
That was the direction Caroline and Mrs. Buffalo headed. A coach with a full team wouldn’t have gotten very far yet, particularly in the rain. His stomach sank. A coach would not do well in a heavy storm.
He swallowed and mounted his horse, turning the confused creature away from Howsham and north, toward the incoming storm.
He needed to make sure their coach hadn’t gotten stuck in rain or mud or worse. He knew Caroline would be upset that he followed, but he rationalized it because he’d only catch up to them if they, indeed, were stuck. If all went well, he needn’t stop and bother them. They wouldn’t even know he was there, he told himself. Just like Caroline didn’t know that the additional footman was a man he hired for safety.
Fat, wet raindrops spattered Alexander almost as soon as he set off.
Caroline began to wonder if she’d make a horrible mistake.
She, Mrs. Ruffalo, and Mr. Charles sat and sweated for three hours in the sw
aying carriage. At least she was sweating. She wasn’t as sure about Mrs. Ruffalo, who seemed comfortable enough. Mr. Charles, however, panted.
“Don’t you love traveling?” Mrs. Ruffalo said as they set off, seeming truly thrilled to be trapped inside the carriage. Apparently, she limited her conversation to a series of rhetorical questions.
“Isn’t the fresh air wonderful?” she mused an hour later.
Caroline was too concerned about Nelly to be enjoying the trip.
Nelly may already be married for all they knew. She felt as if her breath had been squeezed out of her lungs.
“It looks as though it may rain, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Ruffalo mused.
Caroline eyed the gathering clouds ahead nervously. Although sitting in a carriage all day was tedious, it was nothing compared to being in one while it rained. Or, worse, stuck in a storm.
Not for the first time today, Alexander appeared in Caroline’s thoughts. She chewed her lip. She was determined to prove that he was wrong and that she and Mrs. Ruffalo were traveling experts who couldn’t be slowed down by poor weather. The last thing she wanted to do was to have to stop because of a storm. She could imagine how he’d scoff if he heard they only made it to the second closest town to Howsham.
As if on cue, raindrops pinged the carriage roof.
“Oh, rain, already?” Mrs. Ruffalo pulled the curtains shut on the carriage door to keep the rain from pelting inside.
Caroline followed suit as the drops came faster and louder.
“Oh, dear.”
Caroline thought about the footmen on the top of the carriage. She didn’t like the idea of them being wet and uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want to stop.
She hit the roof of the carriage to signal a stop, and an unsmiling wet footman’s face appeared in the window. She rolled the window down quickly.
“How far is the next town ahead?”
“About two miles, miss.”
“Let’s stop there to get out of the rain.”
He nodded and disappeared as the carriage began moving again. Caroline hoped the miles would pass quickly.
Lord to Love Again: A Sweet and Clean Regency Romance Page 10
