Without a word, the ladies were assisted into the coach with Tom following. Dan was on the bench, and Atwater just about to step up into the darkness of the vehicle when a lantern shone from the door of the stable.
“What do we have here? Good evening gentlemen. It’s a bit late to go a-travelling now isn’t it?” The tall footman crossed the yard to the coach. Atwater turned around closing the coach door behind him.
“And you would be, good sir?”
“I am Duke Carlisle’s first footman. And I ask you, My Lord, where do you plan to go at this hour of the night?”
“I plan to go back to London, not that it’s any of your business, good man.”
“Oh, I believe anyone leaving my master’s property in the dark of night is my business, My Lord. Who might be leaving with you?”
Thomas poked his head out the window of the coach. “That would be me. Now, I would ask that a footman not detain the Duke of Atwater another minute. The Duke has important last minute business in London on the morrow.”
The footman’s cocky grin vanished. “Forgive me Your Grace, forgive me My Lord. I had no idea.”
“Maybe you should find out who the party is that’s leaving your master’s property in the dark of night next time. Before you accost them.” Atwater frowned at the man.
“Yes, Your Grace. Might I help you with anything?”
“No, that will not be necessary. You may, however, give your master my sincere thanks for a lovely evening.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will, Your Grace.” The footman stood as Dan walked the pair of horses across the yard and began down the drive. When they were a half mile from the house, Dan let the horses go. If they made good time, they’d be in London by midnight.
*******
Two hours later, they were moving at a good clip when they came upon a fallen tree in the road. The woods were too thick on either side to go around it, and Tom and Atwater were faced with the reality that they, with the help of Dan would have to move it. They alighted from the carriage and walked to and fro and around the log, ascertaining the best way to handle moving it.
Tom heard a sound like the cracking of a twig underfoot. He looked at Atwater who’d stopped moving and was listening intently. Dan also stopped and listened.
The full moon was of no assistance in ascertaining where the sound had come from. They waited a few minutes more, and hearing nothing, silently decided to continue. The women slept inside the carriage, and Tom entered as softly as he could. Dan had taken his place on the bench, and Atwater turned around to get back inside.
As he lifted his arms to hoist himself into the interior, he felt something press into his back. He straightened and saw a face at the opposite door window. In one motion, the face opened the door and flashed a knife while the pressure on Atwater’s back increased. Then he heard the cocking of a pistol.
“Come on, now. Step back down. Do it now or I’ll shoot. No one would hear anything. You’re in the deep woods,” a voice whispered. There was something oddly familiar in the voice that Atwater couldn’t place.
He stepped down and turned to face the man, dressed as a fine dandy but with a black silk mask across his face with only holes for the eyes to peer out. The other man brought Tom and the women forward.
“Look what we found Tully. Two wenches and another fop.”
“Bring them here. Let’s see. Have you any jewellery, ladies?”
“We have not, and I insist you remove that hideous face cover. I demand you identify yourself.”
Tully began to laugh, lifting his arm and slapping his thigh.
It was the moment Tom needed to whirl around and wrench the knife from the other man’s hand. Atwater heard the man with the pistol gasp. Then the two bandits ran for the cover of the forest.
Atwater turned to Tom, Phoebe, and Mary. “Is anyone hurt?”
“We’re fine. But that was strange.” Tom straightened his cravat.
“It most certainly was, but we seem to have made short work of them.” Atwater grinned.
“And I’ve acquired a new pen knife.” Tom grinned.
“I thought you most gallant. Both of you.” Mary looked from one to the other of them. Phoebe was curiously quiet.
“Has anyone seen Dan?” Tom tore his eyes from Mary’s and was looking around.
“I’m here, My Lord.” Dan stepped out of the deep woods and onto the road. I tried to trail them, but they got away. They had horses down that way by the river. I lost them, but it’s a curious thing. The moon is bright tonight. I was close behind them when the moon came out from behind a cloud. I was able to duck behind a tree in the nick of time. And the curious thing is, one of the bandits was a woman, Your Grace.”
“A woman. Are you sure, Dan?”
“As sure as I know it’s you I’m speaking to, Your Grace.”
“That is curious Dan. Quite curious. But it would explain the whispery voice of the one called Tully. Hmm.”
“I’m of the mind that we should get back to travel, Your Grace. Who knows but they might come back.”
“I don’t think they’ll be back. Not with the way they ran from us. I suppose I don’t think it so curious that one of them was a woman, after all. Men would never abandon a plan by running away. A woman, on the other hand, could be taken over by her fear. Although, she didn’t seem too taken over by fear when she had that pistol pressed against my spine.” Atwater laughed. “But you’re right, Dan. We should move on.
Phoebe and Mary thought the entire episode was a fascinating adventure. And they went on about it for the next hour until the excitement began to wear off and they fell asleep.
Atwater and Lord Thomas kept quiet so as not to disturb them, and when the carriage arrived at Wimpole Street, they gently shook the ladies awake.
They helped the women into the house and made their way to Phoebe’s bedchamber. Then they sat up in the library gazing into the fire Dan had built up and drinking sherry.
They knew when Carlisle awoke he would come looking for them. Atwater wondered if they should take the women over to Regent Street but then thought better of it. He was going to have to face Carlisle again at some point. There was no use in attempting to put it off.
Tom fell asleep after one glass of sherry. Atwater reached inside his waistcoat and extracted a small muff pistol. He set his chair squarely facing the door of the room and cocked the weapon.
Chapter 6
Lady Phoebe and Lady Mary were too exhausted to sleep any more. The emotional upheaval of the previous days had taken its toll.
Phoebe sat in a cozy chair wrapped in a shawl, and Mary reclined on the chaise with a blanket in front of a small fire. They were thankful it was summer. A trip like they’d just experienced would have been ghastly had it been winter. But still, they felt cold and tired.
Mary yawned. “His Grace was so brave tonight, My Lady.” Hearing no answer, she looked over at her mistress. Phoebe had tears in her eyes. “My Lady! What’s wrong? Carlisle won’t be here for hours. And Lord Tom and the Duke will handle him. Why are you crying?”
Phoebe sighed. “Oh Mary, I’m so confused. Lady Judith is my friend, and I know she has designs on the Duke. But she hated him. Now, what am I to do?”
Mary sat up. “I feel quite sure the Duke doesn’t return Lady Judith’s sentiments, My Lady.”
“You do? Oh, it doesn’t matter. I never imagined my life would take a turn such as this,” Phoebe continued. “I always thought I’d be married, maybe even with a child, by this point in my life. And now I’m doomed to spend the rest of my days away from everyone and everything I love.” Her tears spilled over.
“My Lady, you do not have to go to Scotland with Duke Carlisle.”
“But what’s to become of me if I don’t? What’s to become of you? And Mr Harris and Mrs Crabtree? What will they do? I’ve made a mess of everything. I was so selfish going to France for two years. I thought I’d fall in love with an intriguing Frenchman.”
“Oh, My
Lady. Please don’t talk that way. Another opportunity will present itself. You’re just tired and over emotional.”
“Do you really think that’s true, Mary? I don’t think my prospects are very good. It wouldn’t matter if Prince George himself were to court me, I … I,” she burst into tears, “I will never have the man I love.”
“There now, My Lady. What’s wrong? You can tell me. It’s Mary, remember?”
“I have no right to cry. I have somewhere to go. Look at poor Lady Judith, in a similar state to mine. And then with the scandal Atwater has caused her. My heart should go out to her.”
“Save your heart, My Lady. The Duke did not cause Lady Judith’s problems.”
“His chivalry of last night was moving. But, you must remember he broke his betrothal to Lady Judith. She’s nearly ruined.”
“I don’t believe Duke Atwater did anything of the sort.”
“You mean to say you, you don’t believe Lady Judith’s story?”
“No, My Lady. I do not.”
“But why?”
“Do you remember, My Lady, when Lady Anne Browning was betrothed to the Marquess Crauford?”
“Mary, we were little girls.”
“I was young, yes, but I still had ears and eyes.”
“I’m not following.”
“The Marquess Crauford broke the engagement with Lady Anne.”
“What? No! How did you come by that information? I never heard anything about it.”
“My point, My Lady. Most heard nothing about it. Earl Browning packed Lady Anne off on a tour of Europe. Five years later, she married a Spanish gentleman in Barcelona.”
“So the Earl hid the news. Why? Why protect the Duke that way?”
“It wasn’t to protect the Duke, My Lady. It was to protect Lady Anne. Her reputation was essentially ruined by being cast aside. The few gossips who found out were paid off by the Earl to keep quiet about it. He didn’t want the ton thinking his daughter was, somehow, inadequate. Of course, the Duke’s reputation was in question for a few weeks until the next juicy bit of gossip came up.”
“So the point here is that the broken betrothal was kept secret to spare those involved.”
“Exactly My Lady. But Lady Judith has told everyone and anyone who has ears about how she’s been mistreated by Duke Atwater. The busybodies have been so distracted with a good story they haven’t thought to think how odd it is that a woman would tell such personal news as if she were the town crier.”
Phoebe gasped. “Of course. Now I understand why you distrust Lady Judith.”
“Pardon my being blunt, My Lady, but I not only distrust her, I don’t like her. She is up to something. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I know she’s scheming ... something.”
“You don’t think she’s in love with Atwater?”
“If she is in love with him, why does she make his life miserable? Is that love, My Lady? Any woman would be hurt and angry to be put in a situation like the one she has stated she’s in. But have you ever known a lady, a real lady, to announce her sad predicament? Lady Judith is and has been, I’m sorry to say, not acting like the lady she purports to be.”
“Mary, you have a strong argument. Do you believe His Grace, Atwater, left Lady Judith?”
“No, My Lady.”
Phoebe fell back into the chair. Her tears started again.
“What is it My Lady?”
“I’ve been terrible to him, Mary. He must hate me. And Tom is angry with me as well. Our little dinner with Carlisle was hellish. The gentlemen barely spoke to me. I haven’t indulged in the gossip, but I have believed Lady Judith. How could I have been so foolish?”
“You haven’t been foolish, My Lady. You’ve been a caring friend to the lady. And it’s interesting to me that you haven’t seen her since the day of the funeral.”
Phoebe looked down. Her shoulder shook with sobs. “And she barely acknowledged me that day. I thought it might be her grief, but, Mary?”
“Yes.”
“It’s no use.”
“What is no use, My Lady.”
“Telling you what I’m about to tell you. It only adds to the mess.”
“Tell me anyway. It’s just you and I in this room.”
“It’s about Duke Atwater.”
“What about him, My Lady?”
“I think … I …” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I think I’m in love with him.”
*******
By the next afternoon, it was apparent to Lord Thomas and Atwater that Carlisle wouldn’t be coming to London anytime soon. At the very least, he would have sent one of his men to enquire about the whereabouts of Lady Phoebe. They felt it safe to leave Wimpole Street and go their separate ways.
They were in the foyer, getting ready to leave, when Mary came running from the back of the house. “Your Grace, may I speak with you?” Her words were for Atwater, but her eyes sought Lord Thomas.
“Yes, Mary, what is it? Is Lady Phoebe in need of something?”
“No Your Grace. I mean, yes.” Now that the moment was upon her, Mary’s nerve was failing her. She looked down and composed herself. “Lady Phoebe wishes to thank you, Your Grace.” She curtsied, glanced again at Lord Thomas, and then hurried back to where she’d come from.
Atwater looked at Lord Thomas who was shaking his head. “Women,” was all Tom said.
*******
“I want you to shop with me. I must pick out my trousseau. I can think of no one I’d rather have with me than you.”
Mary poured lemonade for her mistress and Lady Judith.
Phoebe thought that there was no one else for Judith to turn to. The ton had begun to question the idea that, not only had Lady Judith made public the story that Atwater had forsaken her, but she’d kept the rumours and gossip alive by bringing the situation up at every party, every visit, and every luncheon she attended. Even the gossips were tired of gossiping about it. Now they questioned why the lady would not let the whole thing go.
“I haven’t been feeling my best, Lady Judith. I don’t feel able.” Phoebe tried again to beg off. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Lady Judith than she absolutely had to. But there was etiquette to be followed. Lady Judith was the daughter of an Earl. Lady Phoebe would only make herself look bad if she were to cut Judith that way.
“Please? It would mean so much to me.” Judith smiled.
“When shall we go?”
“Let us go now, why not?”
“Mary?”
“Yes, My Lady, I will take care of everything here. Go along and have a nice time.”
“Thank you.” Phoebe smiled at Mary. “I’ll be back in a moment. I need my gloves. They’re in my room.” Phoebe left the sitting room to go to the main bedchamber.
Lady Judith turned and addressed the maid. “Mary.”
“Yes, Lady Judith?”
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 64
