by Laura Landon
“The day we argued was the last time I saw my son alive. He eloped the following day. He died a few short months later.”
“Is that why you’ve come to see me? Do you suspect foul play in the death of your son?”
Penderly lifted his head. “No. Nothing like that. I sent my nephew, who is also my man of business, to gather the details of the accident. The local magistrate verified that Gregory died when his horse stepped into a hole and fell. There were witnesses.”
“Then what assistance do you need from me?” Austin realized at that moment that he would do anything Penderly needed. He owed him for the son he’d stolen from him in a French prison.
Penderly’s regal bearing came to the forefront and he faced Austin with firm determination. “I want you to find the woman my son gave up his inheritance to be with.”
Austin evaluated Penderly’s request. The man wanted him to find the woman who’d ruined his son’s life. The woman who’d stolen his son from him.
A hint of warning raced through him. “Would you mind telling me why?”
Penderly’s eyes opened wide. He knew what Austin’s question meant. “Not to do her harm,” he said. “Never that!”
“Then why?
“My reasons are personal.”
Austin leaned forward and leveled Penderly with an expression Gabe once told him could shrivel armor. “I want to know why you mean to find her. And I expect the truth.”
Penderly breathed a heavy sigh of resignation. “Of course you do. I wouldn’t expect a man my son thought so highly of to consider a task without being assured my motives were honorable.”
The earl lifted his shoulders and sat straight. “I want to take care of her the same as my son would have, had he lived. I want to make her a part of our family like Gregory asked me to. I know my actions have come too late to make my son happy, but I want to do what he asked of me —and I refused.”
Austin studied the earl for several long seconds. He’d always relied on his instincts to tell him when someone was lying to him. Penderly’s hooded expression gave him a moment’s pause.
“You’re deciding whether or not to believe me,” Penderly said. He leaned back against his chair. “Allow me to tell you about the first time I met my son’s mistress. I knew Gregory would be with her, so I went to her house fully intending to expose her for the Jezebel I believed her to be. I’d passed the point of anger and bordered on madness. I hated her. She was ruining my family, destroying Gregory’s future.”
A small smile lifted the corners of Penderly’s mouth. “Instead, I found I liked her. I was not only in awe of her beauty, but I discovered there was something special about her—her strength of character, her intelligence. I understood why Gregory loved her. But more importantly, I realized that she loved my son. It was so blatantly obvious that I reacted with a vehemence that was totally unlike me.”
The earl’s face lost a shade of color. “I was desperate to separate them, you see. When I met her, I realized she was a bigger threat than I’d imagined. I said several things I didn’t mean.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, neither she nor Gregory ever knew that.”
“You don’t think perhaps she was putting on an act?” Austin asked. “She had experience on the stage, you know.”
Penderly shook his head. “When I threatened to disown Gregory, she offered to give him up. She pleaded with me to reconsider, then pleaded with Gregory to leave and forget her.”
“You think she was serious?”
Penderly nodded. “She came to see me later that night. She wanted me to know that I had nothing to fear from her. That she intended to leave London. And Gregory.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t just saying that? She could have been—”
Penderly held up his hand and Austin stopped. “I offered her enough money to live in grand style for the rest of her life if she promised never to reenter Gregory’s life.” He shook his head and looked at Austin. The haunted look in his eyes was a mirror image of the look he’d seen in Lieutenant Dunstan’s eyes just before he died. “She refused to take any money from me. She said she’d be fine on her own, that she didn’t want Gregory’s money. And she didn’t want to ruin his life.”
“And you believed her?”
Penderly shut his eyes as if reliving his conversation with Collette Flemming. “Yes, Captain. I believed her. She kept her word. She left London that night. Left Gregory. Left the theater. Left everything. Just as she said she would.”
Austin leaned forward in his chair. “What happened then?”
“When Gregory realized she was gone, he came to the house. We had a terrible argument. He said he’d never forgive me for what I’d done. Then he left to follow her.” Penderly paused. “That night was the last time I saw my son.”
The earl didn’t speak for several long seconds. When he did, his voice had a quality to which Austin couldn’t quite give a name. There was a softness to it, a painful emptiness.
“Have you ever been in love, Captain?”
Austin hesitated. Finally he said, “No, sir. I haven’t.”
“Do you believe there’s such a thing?”
Austin knew there was. He even believed there was a love so consuming nothing would stop the people who were in love from moving heaven and earth to be together. His sister, Liddy, and his best friend, Gabe, had discovered a love that all-consuming. They’d moved heaven, and gone through hell to have that love.
He could hardly admit that to Penderly. He couldn’t even say the words out loud, because to admit it would mean acknowledging that he knew such a love was beyond his reach. No decent female could ever love him that completely. Not after the things he’d done. “Perhaps there is. I don’t know.”
A smile lifted the corners of Penderly’s mouth. “There is. That’s the kind of love my son and Collette Flemming shared.” He hesitated. “I know it’s not proper to admit such a fact, but that’s the same love my wife and I feel for each other. Which is the reason that I understand what drove my son to do what he did.”
The earl rose, then stepped close to Austin’s desk. “Find Miss Flemming—or Lady Fledgemont, if my son had the good sense to marry her—and bring her here so my wife and I can provide for her.”
Austin rose. They were of an equal height, he and the earl, and there was a look of honesty in the man’s eyes. “Society will never accept her,” Austin said as a warning. “She’ll always be an outcast.”
“I have no intention of throwing her to the wolves, if that’s what concerns you. I only want to talk to her. I want to offer her a place to live, either in London or in the country. I want to provide for her so she never goes without.”
Austin evaluated Penderly’s offer. He still had his doubts, and he wanted to be sure before he agreed to bring Miss Flemming back to London. Society may not be the only wolves the lady might have to face.
“I didn’t seek you out because you were with my younger son when he died,” Penderly continued. “I don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened to Jarrod in France. I came to you because you have a reputation for finding people who don’t want to be found.”
Austin raised his brows. Guilt consumed him and he turned from Penderly’s gaze. He was responsible for what had happened in France. He was responsible for Jarrod Dunstan’s death. He’d pulled the trigger that ended Dunstan’s life.
Austin turned back. “I’m not in the habit of finding people who are missing. I find criminals who are desperate not to be found.”
Penderly paused. “Perhaps that wasn’t an accurate comparison. But I’m desperate. My son would still be alive if I had reacted differently when he told me he wanted to marry Miss Flemming. I can’t live with the guilt any longer.”
The expression on Austin’s face must have altered. Penderly obviously misinterpreted the meaning. His next words said as much.
“I know, Captain. You have no idea what it’s like to wish something in your life had never happened, but believe me, the regr
ets that haunt me are not something I wish on anyone. I have nightmares that the woman Gregory loved is going without food and shelter, that she is unable to provide for herself. I can’t sleep because it’s my fault she’s alone in the world. I need to know that she’s all right.”
Penderly braced his hands atop Austin’s desk and leaned forward. “I’ll pay whatever you ask. The nightmares are getting worse. I’m haunted continuously. I have to find her, make sure she isn’t lacking the essentials to live.”
The air left Austin’s body. He knew what nightmares were like. Knew the oppressive fear that accompanied them. Knew the desperation.
He would find Collette Flemming and bring her back. If he could release Penderly from the dreaded nightmares that haunted him, he’d do it. If he could do one thing to repay Penderly for the son he’d taken from him, he had no choice but to do it.
“Where did your son and Miss Flemming make their home?”
The relief he saw on Penderly’s face gave Austin a moment’s respite. But only a moment’s.
No matter what the outcome, the end result would still be the same. It was his fault Penderly’s youngest son was dead, and nothing he did would bring him back.
…
Austin stood in the small churchyard cemetery outside the village of Wakemoor and stared at the wooden marker at the head of the grave.
Gregory Wallace Dunstan—Viscount Fledgemont
1826-1857
Beloved Husband
“The Earl of Penderly’s nephew was here after Lord Fledgemont died and said there would be a stone coming to mark the grave.”
Austin looked at the portly vicar who’d shown him to the graveyard. There was a solemnity about the wrought-iron fenced area, a peacefulness that overshadowed the sadness.
“Did you perform the ceremony for Fledgemont?”
“I did. All the surrounding area showed up for the service. To pay their respects, you know.”
“Was Fledgemont well liked, then?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone thought highly of him.”
Austin didn’t know why he’d asked the question. Perhaps because that’s what he did—ask questions. Even though Penderly had already informed him foul play wasn’t an issue, he needed to make sure.
“Everyone was quite taken with Lord Fledgemont and his bride,” the vicar added. “She was such a pretty thing. Had the sweetest smile. Everyone was on the receiving end of her smile after a Sunday service. More than one commented that just seeing her brightened their whole week.”
The vicar clasped his hands over his rounded belly and shook his head. “The day Fledgemont died was a sad day indeed. The lady took her husband’s death mighty hard, she did. Nearly inconsolable, she was.”
Austin shifted his gaze to the vicar. “Can you direct me to where Lady Fledgemont resides?”
“I could, but you won’t find her there. She left shortly after her husband died.”
“Alone?”
“Oh, no. She took Sarah with her.”
“Sarah?”
“Yes, she was Lady Fledgemont’s all-around maid. Sarah Bentley was her name.”
“Do you know where they went?”
The vicar shook his head. “I can’t imagine them going far. Lady Fledgemont was in a poor state. She hadn’t recovered from her husband’s death, and Sarah wouldn’t be brave enough to travel far. She’s never been but a few miles from Wakemoor.”
“Was Miss Bentley from here?”
“Oh, yes. Her father was the vicar before me.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
A broad smile lit the vicar’s face. “There isn’t a woman with a kinder soul. Near to a saint as anyone I’ve ever met. Never married, although everyone thought for sure she’d marry the widower Miller when his wife died last year. Left the poor man with six children, God rest her soul. And it would have been a good match for Sarah, too, considering her age and all.”
“She’s elderly, then?”
“Well, no. Past thirty, I should think.”
The vicar rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Austin had never seen anyone tip so far forward or backward and wondered how far in either direction he could tip before he landed on the ground.
“Instead of making a match when she was young and in her prime, Sarah spent her youth caring for those around her. First her mother when she became ill, then her father, then Lady Fledgemont. She was a godsend to anyone in need. It was Lady Fledgemont’s fortune to have found her. And Sarah’s to have found a position. Other than Hiram Miller, there wasn’t another prospect for Sarah.”
“And she left with Lady Fledgemont?”
“Yes. One day Sarah, Lady Fledgemont, and the baby were gone. They left during the night. No one knows where they went.”
Austin’s heart shifted in his chest. “Baby?”
“Why, yes. Didn’t I mention it? Lady Fledgemont gave birth to a baby a few weeks after her husband died. It was a boy.”
Chapter 2
Sarah tiptoed out of the baby’s room and down the stairs. She was in need of a cup of tea. Jonathan was usually such a good baby, but she thought he was cutting his first teeth. He’d kept her up a great deal of last night. And the night before.
She put the kettle on the stove, then sank down in a chair at the table to wait for the water to heat. It had been nearly three months since they’d left Wakemoor, and she was finally breathing easier. Maybe she and Jonathan had nothing more to fear.
She lowered her head to her crossed arms and closed her eyes. She hoped she’d been wise in bringing the baby to London. But surely she’d create less interest here than in the country where everyone knew their neighbor. After all, London was filled with widows with babies. She would just be another amongst the scores of them.
She breathed a heavy sigh and relaxed her tired muscles. What she wouldn’t give for a short nap.
A loud knock at the front door startled her.
Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t expecting guests. She hadn’t become familiar enough with anyone that they’d feel obligated to call on her. The only person who knew where she lived was the lad she’d hired to bring fresh milk each day. But he always came to the back. And he’d already been here today.
She stayed in the small kitchen for what seemed an eternity, praying that whoever was there would go away. But the banging didn’t stop.
Her legs trembled with each step she took to the opposite end of the house, even though she told herself she had nothing to fear. Surely, if the intruder meant her harm he wouldn’t knock on the door.
There was another knock, this time hard enough that the door shook on its hinges. Loud enough that if the banging continued, the babe would wake up.
She took a deep breath and stepped to the door. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. Maybe it was only someone who needed directions. She could dismiss them rapidly since she hadn’t lived here long enough to be of help.
She slowly turned the knob and opened the door enough to see who was there.
“Yes?”
She had to lift her gaze to look into the stranger’s eyes.
He was taller than most, and handsome in a rugged sort of way. His eyes were the vivid blue of a sky on a clear, summer day and she felt a connection to him even though they’d never met before.
What startled her, however, was the coldness in his gaze, a wintry frost suggesting he trusted no one, or that he was used to dealing with people who posed a threat to him. Not with someone like her—a vicar’s daughter who wore her naiveté like a placard hanging from her neck.
His harsh expression softened as if in that instance he decided she wasn’t that great a threat.
He studied her as intently as she evaluated him.
She wasn’t sure what conclusion to draw. He didn’t seem dangerous—exactly, yet…
His complexion was dark, as if he spent much of his time out of doors. He wore an air of authority, and looked at her with the noble lift to his chin
of a man accustomed to issuing orders—and being obeyed.
His dark blond hair was groomed and he held his hat in his hand. His attire issued the impression not of wealth, exactly, but of a good upbringing.
Her heart began a steady pounding in her chest.
She looked at his expression, hoping to see a hint of softness, or a gentleness to indicate his purpose for coming was innocent. What she saw caused a swelling of fear to consume her.
“Good morning.”
His voice was deep, rich, commanding.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Captain Austin Landwell. I’d like to speak with you in regard to a matter of importance.”
Another rush of fear raced through her. Every instinct with which she’d been born told her to fear this man. Fear what he might do to her. To Jonathan.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t imagine anything you and I might have to discuss.”
She pushed on the door, but before she could close it, his booted foot moved forward and stopped the door from closing.
“Please, leave,” she demanded as she held him off.
“As soon as we’ve talked, my lady.”
Sarah pushed on the door again but he shoved his way further into the house.
“No!”
Sarah knew fighting him was useless. He was too big, too strong. She needed something with which to protect herself.
She threw the chair that sat by the door into his path as he entered, then ran across the foyer. The kitchen was at the end of the hallway. If she could reach it, maybe she stood a chance of stopping him. But he was so big.
She raced to her small kitchen and pulled open the cutlery drawer. A knife. She needed a knife!
She grabbed her weapon by the handle and swirled around. Before she could focus, his powerful body slammed against hers. He pressed her against the wall and pinned her hands on either side of her head.
The knife fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
She tried to fight him but her efforts were useless. He was too strong, his grip on her wrists too confining. She thought of Jonathan in his room alone, unprotected, and her mind refused to allow her to submit without a fight.
