“What is it, Clara?”
The girl turned, her blonde curls whirling about her head as she did so, and retrieved a letter on the small circular table between the chairs.
“I received this letter from Emma today.” She passed it over.
Hettie opened it with haste and scanned the words without really taking them in. She re-read it, forcing herself to take it slowly and absorb the information.
Clara,
Do not worry for me, I am safe. I am in Edinburgh. I have to ask you to do me a favour. Will you make it known to Brandon where I am? I am sure he shall want to find me soon. But, Clara, you must not tell anyone else. Do not make it known to my aunt. If she comes after me, she shall ruin everything.
I shall see you soon, no doubt, and hopefully by then Brandon shall be at my side.
Your dearest friend,
Emma
Hettie drew in a breath and eyed the letter for a few moments. Edinburgh. Brandon. Was this...? “Is she in love with this Brandon?”
Clara bit her bottom lip and nodded.
Hettie was going to elope with this man, whoever he was. But for the moment she was alone. Oh, what a disaster. Her little sister alone in Scotland waiting for a man who could not be of decent character if he had let her sister go off unaccompanied and wished for them to elope. Why, a good man would have waited to ask for their father’s permission. They must have anticipated they wouldn’t get it. She loathed the man already.
“Do you know where she might have gone?”
Clara shook her head. “I had no idea she’d gone to Edinburgh. She never mentioned leaving at all, I promise.”
“You have not exactly been honest with me, Clara,” Hettie scolded.
“I know. I am sorry. I was ashamed of my behaviour and for encouraging Emma to behave the same.”
“Do you know where I can find Brandon?”
“I do not think he is even in town. Maybe he has already gone after her?”
“But why would she ask you to tell him where she is?”
“Oh.” Clara looked defeated. “I don’t know. She must have written to him too, surely?”
“If she even knows where he is.” Hettie pinched the bridge of her nose. It did not sound to her as though this man had any intention of joining her. Would her sister give up and return home or had she already found herself in trouble? Regardless, Hettie had to get to her.
“If Brandon comes back to London, I am trusting you to let me know,” she told Clara. “I shall go to Edinburgh and track her down. Once I’m there, I shall send a telegram so you can keep me informed.”
“Emma will hate me for telling you about her letter.”
Hettie sighed. “Clara, if my sister does not come home safely, you will have more to worry about than a falling out with a friend.”
The young girl clasped her hands together and her skin paled. Hettie might have regretted her bluntness except it was better the girl understand now that her behaviour had repercussions. Maybe it would prevent her from doing anything foolish in future.
She hurried home and packed her travel bag before finding her aunt in the drawing room. Aunt Flora glanced up at her from her embroidery. “Aunt, I am going to Scotland,” Hettie declared.
“Scotland? Whatever for?”
“I have reason to believe Emma is there.”
She didn’t mention that it was likely Emma was hoping to elope with some no-good blackguard. It wouldn’t do to distress her aunt who, from her shaking fingers, was already feeling the strain of Emma’s disappearance. It was up to Hettie to ensure her sister returned home safely and that none of her family suffered because of her sister’s thoughtlessness.
Aunt Flora peered at the travel bag in her hand. “You’re going now?”
“I see no reason to waste any time. I intend to catch a sleeper train. I heard they ran on Wednesdays.”
“Well, my dear, why not have some tea and sandwiches before you go? You may have to wait around quite a while. I’m sure it doesn’t leave until four o’ clock. Nora took the sleeper train to Glasgow if I remember rightly.”
Hettie had little intention of waiting around and listening to tales of Aunt Flora’s friend and her trip to Glasgow. “The sooner I get a ticket the better. It might be fully booked.”
“Yes, you are right I suppose.”
“It will take me three days. I will send word when I arrive safely.”
Her aunt studied the embroidery in her hand carefully before drawing in a sniff. Hettie took a step forward and awkwardly patted the older woman on the back. Emma had been the one to do hugs and kisses and comforting, not her. Her family relied on her to be the sensible, calm one, so a pat to the back was the best she could do.
“I will bring her home, Aunt, do not worry.”
Aunt Flora put a hand over hers and nodded with a thin smile. “I know you will, Henrietta. You always keep your word.”
Before her aunt burst into a flood of tears, Hettie withdrew her hand and retrieved her luggage. She would have to catch a carriage to the station and the ticket to Scotland would not be cheap. She was using up her limited savings for this. The allowance from her father was more generous than many girls of her station and she earned a little money helping out around the village with the children but chasing after her sister was going to leave her poor indeed. Frustrating, as she was intending to help pay for new linens for the orphanage.
It took her a good twenty minutes to find a cab. She supposed if she was more striking and wearing a gown like the one Jasper had given her, she might be more likely to catch a driver’s attention. Blast. That gown. She had meant to ask her aunt’s maid to have it cleaned and returned.
Oh well, it wasn’t like he’d miss it. He had a whole collection, maybe one for every woman he’d bedded. A twisting sensation pulled at her gut when she climbed into the carriage and considered the other woman who had worn that dress. The chances were, she had looked far prettier than Hettie in it. She probably knew exactly how to wear it to charm a man like Jasper. That lady was probably an expert in enticing men.
Not that she had ever wanted to entice a man. Particularly one like Jasper. Aside from a few kisses when she was younger, Hettie had never had time for men. As far as she could tell, they were fickle creatures, kissing one girl one day before moving onto another. Her family, the village, and the orphanage kept her busy. Why bother with a man who was likely to hurt her?
Why bother indeed? Why bother thinking of Lord Jasper’s cognac eyes? Why bother considering how perfectly cut his jaw was? Or how his nose would make statues envious? Why bother wondering if his wavy hair felt as soft as it looked?
She forced her attention on the passing vehicles and the bikes weaving recklessly between them. Why, then, was he back in her mind again?
Perhaps because she’d never met a man like him. Admittedly she hadn’t met many men but he was a rarity. Rakes were not uncommon in London but he had such a quick tongue and then there was that book...She’d spied it on his desk but hadn’t been able to read it properly. However, it had his name and it was something to do with the study of astronomy. She shouldn’t even let herself believe it but she suspected Lord Jasper had hidden depths.
Blast. She curled her fingertips over the edge of the open window and leaned closer to let the breeze cool her heated face. This was getting silly. Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Him.
Except maybe she should have visited to let him know what she’d found out. He had offered to help, after all, and now he might be running about London asking questions for no reason. However, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to see the man again and she did not know if he had been serious. Why would a man like him wish to help her?
The vehicle came to a stop outside of the train station and she paid the driver before heading to the ticket office. The queue stretched for some distance and it was all she could do not to tap her feet on the pavement. Once she had purchased her ticket, she found that her aunt had been right and she would
have to wait several hours for the train.
Hettie occupied herself with buying some crumpets from a street vendor, purchasing a newspaper, and watching the passengers come and go. She certainly didn’t waste any time thinking of a certain lord.
With another hour to wait, she turned her attention back to the newspaper. She never normally bothered reading the ladies’ pages but she couldn’t help herself. And sure enough, there was even a mention of him.
One of seven brothers was seen only yesterday stealing away from a party with an unknown woman.
Hettie’s jaw dropped open.
With this lord’s reputation, no doubt the lady found herself made comfortable at his home. As to whom the lady is, it shall remain a mystery. Nothing could be said for her but that she looked ravished. Knowing Lord J, he was impatient to get started and could not restrain himself. We only hope she was offered a new gown.
Scalding heat rushed into her face. Someone had seen them and assumed he was taking her home to bed her! She of all people! Whoever had spotted them could not have seen her very clearly or else they would have known she was not Lord Jasper’s sort at all.
She folded the paper and slapped it onto the bench next to her.
“Bad news?”
Hettie jerked up her chin. Her insides shrivelled at the same time as doing an odd sort of dance. “What are you doing here?”
She’d thought she had said that in her head until he came to sit next to her and grinned.
“Finding your sister. What about you?”
“The same. But how...?”
“I called upon Clara Thornberry earlier today. I thought she might be a little more open with me. But then I discovered you had already called and that Clara had received a letter.”
“She should never have told you,” Hettie muttered.
“Considering I offered to help you, I’d have rather hoped you might have said something.”
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, still hot and bothered from the words in the paper and now by his proximity. She drew in a breath. “I do appreciate your help but I can do this by myself.”
His lips curved into a tilted smile and Hettie couldn’t help watch the movement with far too much fascination.
“Somehow I expected as much, which was why I took the liberty of purchasing a ticket to Edinburgh.”
“You do not need to come.”
“Face it, Miss Foster, you are stuck with me.”
She shook her head. “This is ridiculous. You hardly know me and this is none of your business. I am simply not allowing you to come.”
“I hardly think you can stop me. Besides, you don’t even have your umbrella.”
Must he always remind her of how she’d had to wield her umbrella? She already felt a fool enough.
“It’s in my travel bag,” she muttered.
The train came into the station with a screech of wheels and hiss of steam.
“You. Are. Not. Coming,” Hettie said through clenched teeth.
How could she stand having him around? He was everything that was wrong with the world, and now she was in a gossip column thanks to him! She hoped he turned around and she would never have to see him again.
Lord Jasper glanced at his ticket. “I’m cabin twelve. If you need anything...”
“I won’t.”
“Miss Foster, have I done something to upset you?”
“I do not need your help, my lord.” She stood and waved the newspaper at him. “I particularly do not need help from men of your ilk whose names are splashed about the news on a daily basis.”
He lifted a brow. “What have they said now? You really shouldn’t believe everything you read, you know.”
“I should when it is about me. We were spotted last night.” She flung the paper into his lap. “Now I am immortalised in print as another of your conquests. I certainly don’t want to risk tainting my name so again.”
With that she turned away, aware of his chuckle following her. The guardsman had opened the doors so she stepped on board and began to walk down the corridor in search of her carriage. Hettie walked past number twelve and pointedly ignored it. He would only be three compartments away from her...
Maybe he would change his mind. She glanced out of the train window at the bench and saw it had been vacated. And that he was walking toward the train.
Damn the man.
Chapter Five
Jasper peered out of the window and watched the dark hills roll by. The occasional flash of lit cottage windows broke up the countryside. He eased open the window to draw in the fresh air and let it ruffle his hair. A smile urged its way across his face as his thoughts inevitably turned to Miss Foster.
He hadn’t spotted her at dinner and he strongly suspected she was avoiding him. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected from her when he’d met her at the station but her utter disgust had taken him a little by surprise.
Really, her name wasn’t even mentioned in the newspaper. What was all the fuss about? That woman needed to loosen her corsets a little. His smile widened. Would he be able to unravel those strings a little? Teach her to enjoy life more?
He shook his head to himself and sat back on the bed to listen to the clack clack of the wheels. Why would he even want to do that? He’d made a promise to her and he’d see that through. There was no chance he would leave her to go searching Edinburgh alone, but he certainly did not need to waste his time trying to prove to that uptight miss he was something else. Which he wasn’t.
She was just as he’d expected though. He felt a little smug about how easily he’d figured out what she’d do after his discussion with Clara. Of course Miss Foster would go racing off to Scotland without a word. It was just so...her.
However, whether she liked it or not, he was coming along. Not just to ensure she didn’t get herself into trouble but because Emma had to be found. Lord knows what the girl was up to. He wished she’d come to him. She’d trusted him once, had she not? Now she could be in all sorts of danger.
Jasper curled a fist. He really wished he had punched Brandon.
Scrubbing a hand across his face, he loosened his necktie and settled on getting a stiff drink from the bar in the hopes of it easing him off to sleep. He didn’t feel the remotest bit tired but he’d need all his faculties if he was going to ensure Miss Foster didn’t do something reckless. He half-expected her to jump from the moving train just to avoid him. That was the sort of woman he was dealing with.
He made his way down to the bar and ordered a brandy. Only a few fellow passengers remained propped up on bar stools or sitting by windows. Most of them likely couldn’t sleep in strange beds or with the noise of the train in their ears. He didn’t blame them. What he wouldn’t give for his own bed, ideally accompanied by a soft female body.
Not a soft female body like Miss Foster’s, of course.
She really would throw herself off the train if she realised he’d had any inappropriate thoughts about her, and if he was going to help her find Emma, he needed to behave. Her sister had to be his priority. That, and keeping Henrietta Foster out of trouble.
Finishing his brandy, he resigned himself to heading back to his room and trying not to think about that bloody woman.
Except when he strolled up the corridor to his compartment, there she was, blocking his way.
In a long column of white that could only be described as remarkably tent-like, she cursed aloud and kicked her door. Jasper smothered a laugh and leaned against the wall. Miss Foster rattled the door and cursed again.
“Something wrong?”
She whirled, sending cotton billowing about her. “No,” she said through clenched teeth before fiddling with the door again. Her shoulders sagged. “Yes. My key broke off in the door. I’d only stepped out because I’d heard a knock and wanted to investigate...”She trailed off and the colour in her cheeks heightened.
He stepped forward, and she moved back. Bending to peer at the lock, he saw the key had in
deed broken clean off in the lock and there was no way of retrieving it. He glanced around and back at her.
“Come to my room.” Her mouth opened and he continued before she could protest. “Henrietta, you cannot very well stand around in your...your nightwear now, can you?”
Her lashes fluttered at the use of her name and her lips compressed while she seemed to mull over the truth of his words. The simple fact was, while all that fabric covered her from wrists to neck to ankles, there was no disguising the curve of her rear or her breasts. Not to mention her nipples were pointing directly at him and it was causing some issues in the trouser department.
“Hettie,” she replied finally.
“Pardon?”
“Hettie. I hate Henrietta.”
“Hettie,” he said, testing the sound on his tongue. It would sound good whispered against her skin. It was a sweet sort of name. Not glamorous or seductive but interesting, like her. “Will you not come to my room while I seek out help? As you can see, I am practically fully dressed.”
Her gaze fell on his collarbone where his necktie sat loose and even in the dim light of the lamps he saw her cheeks darken. Interesting that the tiniest glimpse of his neck could do that. But then was he not lusting over an imagined figure, considering most of her garments rivalled that of a nun’s?
She nodded and extended a hand. They both stared at it for a moment until she snatched it back into her and he ushered her forward. Had she expected him to take it? He couldn’t deny he’d wanted to.
When had he ever wanted to hold a woman’s hand? How bizarre. Now he was eaten up with the idea of pressing his palm to her lower back as he escorted her to his room. Her skin would be warm against the cotton and if he was careful, he could let his fingers slip low enough to feel the top of her rear. His mouth near watered at the idea.
“My lord? Your key?”
He eyed her for a moment and snapped back to a reality where he wasn’t feeling Hettie Foster’s arse.
“Of course.” He fished his key out of his pocket and opened the door. He had to clench his fist so as to resist the temptation of making his imaginings a reality. He motioned to the small armchair opposite the bed. “Won’t you sit? I shall go in search of a steward.”
The Cynfell Brothers Collection Page 35
