The Disappearance of Lady Edith (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 1)

by Christina McKnight

  Shaking his head, Triston had to concentrate on the present, not the wounds from his past. They had healed, but if Esmee pulled the trigger on her pistol or caused him to fall from the cliffs, it would be the end of him…and Edith.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you and your little strumpet were up to?” Esmee waved her weapon before her, her grip so tight her knuckles were white. “There is no more time for talking, and I will not allow you to alter my course. The decision has been made.”

  The term strumpet incited Triston once more. Esmee, the woman who’s easily betrayed him and his father thought to use such a word when speaking of Lady Edith?

  She’d been seamlessly altering from composed to livid to a babbling mess making little sense. It had always been Triston’s belief Esmee was a determined, persistent lady. She knew what she wanted, and she went for it. The woman stalking him toward the cliff’s edge was not that woman.

  “You do not need to do this, Esmee,” he shouted to be heard above the growing noise of the waves at his back. “Lady Edith and I—“

  “Are trying to destroy me!” Her eyes grew wide with madness. “I will not allow it. I am Lady Downshire, a marchioness. I will give my husband an heir.”

  “But he has an heir.”

  “You?” Spittle flew, and Esmee threw her head back in laughter. “My son will be the next Marquis of Downshire, not you, Triston.”

  “You plan to kill me?”

  “Oh, no. You will jump from the cliff willingly.” Esmee halted, her lips curling into the innocent smile Triston remembered from years prior. “You will be so distraught over the news of my pregnancy. You brought me here to declare your love, you see, but I rebuffed your advances. In the end, you could not handle the rejection, and unrequited love made you take your own life.” She shrugged as if she’d painstakingly planned the entire situation and now only needed him to be the honorable gentleman and do as she said.

  Did she think him the sort of man to beg, either for his life or for her love?

  His chest tightened. He hadn’t fought or begged for Esmee before or now, but he would for Edith. He needed her, and she needed him. For that to happen, he must be alive.

  “Now, can we not get this over with?” she asked. “When I am done with you, I still have need to deal with your ladybird; though I am certain Samson has her occupied at the moment.”

  Triston focused on Esmee, not wanting his eyes to stray toward Edith and her friends, who were currently whispering amongst themselves. He only prayed the trio did nothing foolish to put them at risk. A wish he had a dreadful feeling would not go without frustration as the ladies had already proven themselves reckless.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Triston saw Samson starting to regain his wits, though he hadn’t managed a sitting position as yet.

  If the servant were able to rejoin Esmee in her endeavors, the odds would be less in Triston’s favor. He couldn’t allow this to happen.

  Bloody hell, Triston should have insisted his father make the journey with him, but there hadn’t been time to convince the marquis. Belatedly, Triston hadn’t even thought of the idea until London was far in their wake. The marquis would be hard-pressed to think his beloved wife capable of any of this.

  Triston took another small step back, the overspray from the cliffs hitting the back of his neck and saturating his jacket. The lip of the sheer drop could only be a few paces away…and he was no closer to getting Esmee to see reason.

  Edith and her friends fanned out behind his stepmother, moving slowly into a semi-circle of sorts as they blocked her in. They surrounded her on three sides with Triston taking the fourth position.

  He shook his head slightly, hoping they’d see his silent plea and find their own safety.

  Instead, the women only moved closer, trapping Esmee but also putting each of them at a greater risk of being the woman’s new target.

  Edith had taken the position directly behind Esmee—in Triston’s line of view.

  He took in the sight of her. Edith commanded all of his attention, holding him hostage. If these were his last moments, he would perish happily, knowing the images of Edith would be forever burned into his memory.

  The woman was beautiful, her appearance nothing but sunshine and brightness with her delicate skin, sun-kissed, pale locks, and honey eyes.

  He was helpless to do anything but watch as the trio shared a nod and all shouted in unison, their voices carrying high above the din of the ocean behind him, and echoing around them.

  Esmee halted her advance, her head twisting this way and that to find out where the noise had come from. Her hand clutching the pistol dipped to her side, and Triston took the opportunity to pounce into action.

  Triston leapt forward and took hold of Esmee’s hand, wrenching the weapon from her.

  Lucianna and Ophelia quickly stepped forward and grasped each of Esmee’s arms.

  Esmee’s eyes widened in utter shock as she looked from one woman holding her to the other and desperately tried to tug herself free. A long, black strand of hair fell over her eyes, and Triston reached forward to brush it aside.

  “It is over, Esmee,” he sighed, uncertain if she heard him over the crashing waves. “There is no use struggling.”

  Esmee crumpled to the ground, the two women struggling to keep her from completely falling.

  A deep, wrenching sob escaped her as her head fell forward and her damp, raven hair veiled her face from sight. Her shoulders shook, and her body trembled.

  Edith stepped forward and knelt next to the woman who’d had such nefarious plans for her, and laid her arm around Esmee’s heaving shoulders, leaning in close to whisper something in his stepmother’s ear.

  When Esmee nodded, Edith slipped her arm around the woman’s back and helped her to stand.

  Triston would have gladly taken Edith in his arms and walked away, but here she was, helping the woman who’d only an hour ago intended to push her off a cliff.

  His heart swelled, and the despair of the previous night dissipated.

  Edith led Esmee back toward the cottage with Lady Lucianna and Ophelia close behind. Her compassion for his stepmother baffled him. How could Edith want to be anywhere near Esmee?

  When the group disappeared into the cottage, Triston turned toward Samson, but the servant was being led away by Triston’s coachman.

  His carriage still waited in the drive, but another plume of dust traveled toward him, another carriage approaching. It must be Ames with the Hadleigh Magistrate.

  Bringing his arm to shield the sun from his eyes, Triston watched the coach’s harried approach with its four large, spotted horses pulling at the reins.

  “My lord?” He turned away from the approaching carriage to see that Edith had returned to his side. “You must be cold. Luci is starting a fire inside. I think you should warm yourself.”

  “You always think first of others.” He turned to her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

  Edith pulled back and stared up at him, her brow furrowed. “It is what I have always been taught. If I put others first, my happiness will naturally follow.”

  Triston remained silent, running his thumb along her hairline where a large lump was forming. She was so innocent and pure—and because of him, that was shattered. He stared into her eyes, waiting for the moment her innocence would disappear and be replaced by darkness. With that, Edith would turn away from him. She had no other option—she exposed scandal, she did not live it herself. Unfortunately, things were to become far more complicated, and the risk of society finding out grew more pressing as the carriage carrying Ames and the magistrate arrived.

  He doubted her coming happiness would include him.

  Chapter 16

  Edith heard, rather than saw, yet another carriage arrive at the tiny cottage on the cliffs. It was as if the sea had realized the danger had passed because the roar of the waves subsided, bringing an almost peaceful hum to the tiny y
ard in front of the cottage.

  There was nothing Edith wanted more than this moment.

  She’d thought only an hour before her time with Triston was forever at an end. The chance to tell him exactly how much she cared for him would be taken from her; however, here they stood.

  Both whole and safe.

  Which meant Edith would have plenty of time to express to Triston everything her heart held for him. Speaking of her heart, it raced as he continued to stare down at her, his look softening and holding a meaning she couldn’t quiet decipher.

  A mixture of sorrow…and what?

  Esmee and her loyal servant were being held inside the cottage with no danger of escape or chance of harming anyone else.

  There was no reason for sadness—or regret—which was what she saw in Triston’s eyes.

  They should celebrate.

  Without giving herself time to change her mind, Edith stood on her tiptoes, but his face was still out of reach. She encircled his neck with her arms, feeling that the hair at his nape was still damp, but this did not stop Edith from drawing Triston down to her.

  She peered into his eyes. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “I—“

  Her lips met his, silencing his reply. Edith would not be able to go on if he told her he’d come out of any other reason but love—for her. His warm lips banished the cold that had settled on her long before the morning sun had risen. As she’d sat tied to the chair, the hood over her head, Edith truly believed she’d be cold and overrun by shivers forevermore; however, when Triston’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, she knew, without a doubt, she’d never feel the icy tendrils of cold run through her again.

  “Triston!”

  He pulled back with the call of his name and set Edith back on the ground. However, their brief kiss was enough to give her hope there would be more to come. If not today, then tomorrow, or the day after. She was not allowing Triston to go.

  “Triston!” They both turned to see Triston’s father running toward them, his arms outstretched as if he did not touch his son, hold him quickly, he may disappear. “You are safe. Where is Esmee?”

  The man, so much like his son with his great height and strong jaw, stopped and placed his hands on Triston’s shoulders.

  Behind them, a haphazardly dressed man, likely the Hadleigh magistrate awoken from his slumber, and another man sauntered toward the open cottage door where Ophelia shouted for their attention.

  “She is inside, Father,” Triston confirmed, and his father relaxed, the strain of the long carriage ride draining from his shoulders. “She is unharmed, physically.”

  The marquis shook his head. “I do not understand…”

  Edith wanted to take Triston’s arm, give him someone to lean on when he told his father the damning truth, but to her surprise, it was he who stepped free of his father’s hold and pulled Edith close once more.

  “Esmee is not well. Her mind…it is addled.” The sorrow returned to him, and Edith thought maybe this was what had weighed on him since his stepmother was thwarted. “She, with Samson’s assistance, kidnapped Lady Edith and brought her here, thinking to lure me to my death. She says she is with child.”

  “It cannot be,” Lord Downshire mumbled, looking over Triston’s shoulder to the cottage. “I must go to her. Have a physician summoned. I cannot…I am sorry…it is too much…”

  “Go to her, my lord,” Edith whispered. “Having you near will calm her, I am certain.”

  The marquis looked down at her, as if noticing her for the first time, and his eyes widened.

  “Lady Edith… I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all this—“

  She held up her hand to stop him. “Do not worry over me, go to your Lady Downshire.”

  Edith suspected her dirty clothes, knotted hair, and the atrocious lump on her forehead made her appear far worse than she actually felt.

  With a nod, and another pat to Triston’s shoulder to confirm he was truly solid and well, the marquis dashed inside the cottage.

  Edith remained quiet and still at Triston’s side as he watched his father go.

  “I cannot believe he came,” Triston mumbled.

  “He loves you. You are his son, after all.” Edith was only privy to the one exchange Triston had shared with his father at his boarding house before she was taken. The man did not seem one to show his affection for his offspring, but the love was there. Edith was sure of it. “Shall we go inside and help?”

  “Heavens no,” Triston said, his hand caressing her cheek. “I think we have done our part for the day.”

  She held her breath, waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, Edith sighed. “I am sorry for causing you and your family so much trouble. If we hadn’t been so fixated on Abercorn, none of this would have happened.”

  Triston leaned down and placed his lips to her forehead, being sure to keep away from the knot. “No, I should have heeded your warnings about the man.”

  “You do not think us foolish for our continued persistence with Abercorn?” She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his mouth as it trailed from her forehead, to her cheek, to her jaw with an aching slowness until he reached her lips.

  He kissed her right there, not caring who saw their intimate moment—and her question dissipated. It no longer mattered as he lifted her from the ground, and Edith ran her hand through his hair, pulling him ever closer to her.

  Chapter 17

  Edith allowed her eyes to drift closed, the sway of the moving carriage tempting her to sleep, safely tucked against Triston’s side. She was exhausted, yet it had taken nearly an hour for her nerves to settle enough for the tension to drain from her. Her head still ached, throbbing in time with her hip.

  However, she was unharmed.

  Both she and Triston were unscathed, while they’d left Lady Downshire in the care of her husband, the Hadleigh magistrate, and a local physician. Samson had confessed all—including his own tryst with his mistress. Edith despised watching the hurt in the marquis’ eyes as he learned of his wife’s treachery firsthand.

  Esmee was a gently bred lady of the ton, married to a wealthy, influential lord.

  Which meant, if Triston’s father did not deem her actions worthy of punishment, then Lady Downshire could very well return to her place among society with impunity for her deeds.

  She was obviously demented and in need of a physician’s care, especially if she were with child. Seeing as how Triston’s father—at Prudence’s and Chastity’s insistence—had accompanied Ames to Lady Downshire’s home in Essex, she doubted the woman would continue as she had before—or planned to after doing away with Edith and Triston. At the very least, she’d be removed from London to the Downshire country estate, Carlton Curlieu Hall in Leicestershire, until after the babe was born. Triston had reassured her of this after handing her, Luci, and Ophelia into their carriage.

  As they’d started back toward London, they’d each fallen into their own silent musings as the miles passed. Luci and Ophelia were tucked tightly under a woolen blanket on the opposite seat, while Edith had selected to sit beside Triston as opposed to between her friends.

  Yet, neither woman seemed to judge her harshly for the choice.

  Triston was ever so warm, giving her the heat she’d lacked after the cold night she suffered. He pulled her a bit closer at that moment, and Edith couldn’t stop her smile.

  Unexpectedly, his lips pressed to her forehead.

  Edith couldn’t prevent her sigh of contentment from escaping.

  “We will be back in London before we know it,” Triston mumbled to no one in particular.

  “And how are we to explain our disappearance to our parents?” It was unnecessary for Edith to open her eyes to know Luci sat across from her, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “And arriving home in your carriage…we will all be ruined.”

  “Better ruined and alive than dead and forgotten at the bottom of a cliff,” Ophelia chimed in. />
  Edith giggled at Ophelia’s impertinent comment, knowing it would only further inflame Luci.

  Her friend only huffed. Cracking her eyes, Edith watched as Luci turned to stare out the window, her arms—as suspected—crossed.

  “Do not fear, ladies,” Triston replied.

  “We have everything to fear, Lord Torrington.” Luci’s cool demeanor broke wide. “We cannot trust you to fix all of this for us.”

  “Did I not tell you to have faith I would rescue Edith?”

  “Yes,” Luci reluctantly agreed. “But—“

  “And did I not follow through on that promise?”

  “Oh, my lord, you certainly did…with our assistance!” Ophelia exclaimed, tugging the blanket away from Luci to cover her own legs. “You were quite dashing and a regular white knight. You must admit, Lucianna, Lord Torrington did know where to find Edith, and he kept that madwoman distracted long enough for us to bash the poor coachman over the head.”

  Luci snorted. “I will admit nothing of the sort.”

  “Then I suppose I should direct my driver to head for Gretna Green.” Triston shrugged.

  Edith’s shoulders straightened. There was only one reason for a person to travel to Gretna Green, and Edith could not entertain the very notion for fear it would lead to her disappointment.

  “Gretna Green!” Ophelia sat up straight, her eyes as wide as tea saucers, mirroring Edith’s own startled look. “Why would we journey to Scotland?”

  “To avoid scandal—I will wed Lady Edith, and you two will be our witnesses.” He spoke as if the idea weren’t completely outlandish. “When we return to London, it will be as husband and wife, and you two will be properly chaperoned.”

  Husband and wife? Edith allowed the preposterous notion to settle within her. To have Triston by her side for all eternity? It seemed too much for her to hope for.