The Rogue's Flower

by Rose Pearson

  “Let me go.”

  Her words were whispered yet fierce, her heart clamoring within her chest. Elsbeth felt her hands clench, her fingers biting into the soft skin of her palms as tears formed in her eyes as the hackney rolled forward. She was not about to give in and simply allow the Duke to get his way, even if he was her family.

  “Now, now, Elsbeth, now is not the time to be demanding anything,” the Duke replied, lazily. “Haven’t you learned by now that I am not to be trifled with?”

  Swallowing the ache in her throat and forcing her tears back, Elsbeth lifted her chin. “This is not right. I am to marry Lord Radford.”

  The Duke snorted in derision. “I think not. A viscount is too far below you, Elsbeth, whereas the next Duke of Broadshore is more than perfect.”

  “And it gets you what you want,” she retorted, angrily. “I am not to be used in such a way, your grace! I will not do this. I will not marry your stepson.”

  He looked back at her almost lazily, as though he had been expecting her to say such things and found her predictable.

  “I am sure that, in time, you will come to see things my way,” he replied, softly, one hand now gesturing to the seat beside him. “My stepson will be your husband and you will bring back the Dukedom to my family line.”

  Elsbeth caught her breath as she saw the pistol sitting on the seat next to the Duke. He had not left anything to chance and would use this weapon to force her to obey him. It would be either that or death.

  Swallowing her tears and her anger, Elsbeth sat back in her seat and felt her strength ebb away. The hackney continued on through the gardens, until it came to a hidden entrance in the wall, making its way carefully through it. She had not even known such a path existed.

  There was nothing she could do. The hackney would continue to take her further and further away from the Radford Estate, away from the man she loved, and all she could do was sit there and allow it to happen. Either that or face death. Closing her eyes, Elsbeth tried her best to build her strength, telling herself that, somehow, she would find a way out of this situation, but her pain and her helplessness increased all the more. Opposite her, she heard the Duke laugh softly, as though he were aware of her pain and somehow, in his own twisted way, saw it as a victory.

  Elsbeth fought tears, refusing to let a single one fall to her cheek as the sound of the Duke’s laughter rang in her ears. Fixing her mind on Lord Radford, she kept him in her thoughts as the hackney continued on, praying that somehow, Miss Amy would have found him and told him about the strange man in the garden.

  It was the only flicker of hope she had left.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Miss Amy?”

  “Grandmama!”

  Andrew chuckled as he saw the child hurry towards the Dowager, aware that his mother was still not quite used to being referred as such. They had both come out of the drawing room together, having looked over the menus for the week, and had seen the girl come in from the gardens.

  “My goodness, child, you are looking rather windswept,” the Dowager commented, as the young girl beamed up at her. “Do not tell me that Miss Blakely has been allowing you to run around like a mad thing?”

  Chuckling quietly at the slight smile on his mother’s face, Andrew made to turn away to leave them to converse, only to come to a sudden stop as Miss Amy spoke again.

  “Miss Blakely was with a man.”

  Slowly, Andrew turned around, seeing his mother look back at him with a sudden, sharp look.

  “A man?” she asked, as Andrew came back to them. “Is that so? Where is Miss Blakely?”

  The girl shrugged. “She went with the man.”

  Aware that there could be staff listening and trying to ignore the worry tightening in his chest, Andrew beckoned his mother back towards the drawing room.

  “Come in here, Miss Amy, and you can tell me everything,” the Dowager replied, in a warm tone so as not to frighten the girl. “I confess I am very interested to discover who this man might be.”

  Closing the door to the drawing room tightly, Andrew leaned back against it for a moment as the Dowager led Miss Amy to sit down on one of the comfortable sofas.

  “Now, who is this man?” she asked softly, as soon as the girl was settled. “Had you seen him before?”

  Miss Amy shook her head, a frown on her face. “I don’t think so. I thought he might have been one of the gardeners.”

  “Why would you think that?” Andrew asked, coming towards her and bending down on his haunches to look into her eyes. “Did he say he was?”

  Miss Amy paused for a moment before shaking her head. “No, but Miss Blakely said they were going to pick some flowers for the table. She said he was going to show her where the prettiest flowers in the gardens were.”

  “I see.” Andrew tried to smile as Miss Amy looked back at him, clearly very concerned. He knew in an instant that there was something grievously wrong, although he could not quite say what it was.

  “And did Miss Blakely send you inside?” the Dowager asked softly, as he got to his feet to lean on the mantlepiece, his eyes gazing down into the flickering flames in the grate below. “Is that why you came inside on your own?”

  Glancing behind him, Andrew saw Miss Amy nod, her eyes widening. Walking over to the bell, Andrew tugged it twice, aware that he would need his butler.

  “She said she would be inside very soon,” she said softly, her chin beginning to wobble a little. “I didn’t like the man, but Miss Blakely was very insistent that I go inside. Did I do something wrong?”

  Andrew turned back to face her, seeing his mother put one arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Of course not,” he said, gently. “I think Miss Blakely was trying to keep you safe, Miss Amy. Now, can you tell me what this man looked like?”

  A bubble of frustration broke open as the girl told him about what the man looked like, for it was such a simple description that he could not exactly narrow it down. The man was, according to Miss Amy, tall with dark hair, a dirty face and terribly crooked teeth. She had never seen him before, which meant that, most likely, Andrew had never seen him before either. However, the one thing the girl could tell him was that, just before she’d come inside, she’d looked back over her shoulder and seen the man walking with Miss Blakely towards the other end of the gardens, towards the trees.

  “Thank you, Miss Amy, you’ve been very helpful,” he said, patting her hand. “Now, why don’t you run along to find Nurse? Make sure to tell her that you’re to have some cocoa; won’t that taste good?”

  The child’s face brightened at once, still clearly unaware of exactly what had happened to Miss Blakely and, with another smile, she made her way to the door, only to be met by the butler.

  “Have one of the footmen escort Miss Amy to the nurse,” Andrew said firmly. “Then come back here. I have need of you.”

  The butler nodded at once and followed Miss Amy out of the door, leaving Andrew to let out a long breath, sink into a chair and put his head in his hands.

  “What do you think has become of her, Radford?”

  The Dowager’s voice was tired, yet pained, making Andrew aware of just how much his mother had come to appreciate Miss Blakely.

  “I think this can only be the Duke of Broadshore, Mother,” he said through his hands. “There is an old, overgrown path that leads to the edge of the estate down by those trees, although it has not been used for some time. I would suspect that Miss Blakely has been forcibly removed from the premises so that the Duke might get what he wishes.

  Looking up at his mother, Andrew saw her nod slowly, her eyes widening as she looked back at him.

  “Then what do we do?”

  He opened his mouth only to find that there was no easy answer. He wanted to tell her that they would simply go after her, only to realize that he had no idea in which direction she had gone nor where the Duke of Broadshore had headed. He could be going to his own estate, or to the estate of his stepson. Perhaps a church, o
r to London to fetch a special license so Miss Blakely could marry there. Andrew had little doubt as to what the Duke had planned for Miss Blakely, aware that she would somehow be forced into matrimony to the Duke’s stepson.

  “Andrew,” his mother said softly, using his Christian name in an attempt to encourage him. “What is it you are thinking of doing? I know you will not let Miss Blakely be so easily taken from you.”

  “I.....”

  The words died on his lips as he tried his best to think of what to do, finding that he could not come up with anything in particular.

  “I don’t know, Mother,” he admitted, lifting his face from his hands. “I must get her back, but I have no idea where I might start. If I go after her in one direction, then she might very well be traveling in the opposite direction. What do I do?”

  A quiet rap came to the door as Andrew looked back helplessly at his mother, calling for the butler to enter. Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw the butler come in and close the door quietly behind him, standing there stoically until Andrew spoke to him.

  “Miss Blakely has been taken,” he said, hollowly, his fear and frustration rising with almost every word he spoke. “I do not know where she has gone. Send the footmen out to search and have riders sent to the nearby inns to discover if anyone of importance is to reside there.”

  The butler’s eyes flared for a moment, and he nodded.

  “Miss Amy saw Miss Blakely being taken to the bottom of the gardens, so I think you might begin there,” he continued, not knowing what else to do. “And if there are tracks of any kind, I want them followed for as long as possible.”

  “Right away, my lord,” the butler said hastily, making to close the door. “Is there anything else?”

  Andrew made to shake his head, only for his mother to hold up one hand.

  “Have a bag made up for Lord Radford,” she said, glancing back at Andrew. “Nothing too much, just something he can take with him on horseback. He is, of course, going to fetch Miss Blakely home.”

  The butler nodded and disappeared, leaving Andrew to look back at his mother with nothing more than sheer helplessness burning in his soul.

  “How can I fetch her if I do not know where she is gone?” he asked, heavily. “Mother, I –”

  “If you go one way, then I shall go the other,” she interrupted, softly. “You are not in this alone, Andrew. I will do all I can to help.” Reaching forward, she touched his cheek gently, her eyes soft as he looked back at her. “My son, you have become the man I have always hoped you would be, and I can see that it is due to Miss Blakely’s support. I would not have her gone from this house, gone from your life. I know that she means more to you than you can say, and it is impossible not to see the love she has for you in her own heart. I have come to value her and I will not allow her to be simply taken away against her will when I know her place and her heart is here.” She smiled at him gently, her eyes filled with hope that, slowly, began to pierce Andrew’s heavy heart.

  “I hope so, Mother,” he admitted, quietly. “I feel as though I have lost her for good. I do not even know where to begin to look.”

  “Patience,” came the steady reply. “I know that it appears as though all is lost but give your staff some time. It is difficult to remain here when she is gone from you – I understand that, of course – but patience will be your guide. Let them find a path for you to follow first. Then your chances of returning Miss Blakely here increase tenfold.”

  It was agony to wait. For hours, Andrew was forced to either sit or stand as his staff made a thorough search of the grounds, as still others rode off in every direction to seek news from the nearby inns. His heart went from overwhelming hope to unspoken agony over and over again, whilst, all the time, his mother simply sat with her hands in her lap, silently praying.

  He could not lose Elsbeth, not now. Not when they had become so close, when they had started a life together that he could not imagine living without her. His mother was right to say that she had become more to him than he could say, for he had never known what it was to love another before with his whole heart. “My lord?”

  Andrew’s head jerked up as the butler opened the door, beckoning the man inside.

  “What have you found?”

  The butler cleared his throat and, for the first time, Andrew saw that he appeared to be rather pale.

  He swallowed hard. This did not bode well.

  “We found that a carriage or the like must have been in the gardens, my lord, making its way out of the small gap in the walls that is no longer used.”

  Andrew groaned and put his head in his hands.

  “However, there has come news from one of the riders, my lord,” the butler continued, his voice still grave. “One of the inns – the Winter Arms - is rather quiet – unusually so. The innkeeper was unwilling to take on any new guests but would not say why, which is rather strange given that it is so quiet.”

  Looking up, Andrew saw a flare of hope in his mother’s eyes, hope which was reflected in his own heart.

  “Another rider has returned with some items he found along the road as he rode out from the house, which he thought to bring back with him, just in case they belonged to Miss Blakely.”

  Andrew got to his feet, seeing the five small items on a tray that was passed to the butler by a footman still outside the door. His eyes took in the three bits of torn material, not understanding what they were until he saw the initials embroidered on one of them.

  “This was her handkerchief?” he whispered, taking in the ‘E.B’ emblazoned on one of the corners. “And these two pieces....?” He picked up a scrap of dark grey material, seeing a small button still attached.

  His mother hurried towards him in a flurry of skirts. “Oh, Radford,” she breathed, taking it from him. “Is that not a cuff from her gown?”

  It made sense. It was the same color as Miss Blakely’s governess dresses and given that he also held the pieces of her handkerchief in his hand, it could only mean one thing.

  “And this rider did not see a carriage on the road?” he asked, seeing the butler shake his head. His flare of hope began to fade as he set the pieces of material back on the tray, confused as to where he might be.

  “No, he did not, but I believe he chose to return with these items rather than continue along the road in search of Miss Blakely and the carriage.”

  Andrew nodded slowly, his heart beginning to quicken. “I see. And does the road lead towards the inn?”

  The butler paused. “It could very well do, my lord. The man who went to the inn took the shortest route, crossing through fields and the like, whereas the road would take a little more time but, from what I know of the land, would lead there eventually.”

  “Then I must start there,” Andrew replied, catching his mother’s eye and seeing her nod. “The man will need to show me the road where he found these,” he continued, gesturing towards the tray. “And I intend to leave at once.”

  The butler nodded. “Of course, my lord. I will have your horse readied at once.”

  Andrew drew in a long breath and caught his mother’s hands as she stepped closer, aware of the worry in her eyes.

  “I pray I will find her, Mother,” he whispered softly, pressing her hands. “I do not think I will be able to return without her.”

  She paused and nodded, her lips trembling just a little. “I am afraid of what that man will do to you, should you find her,” she admitted eventually, her hands tightening on his. “You must be careful, Radford. The Duke is not a man to be crossed.”

  “I will not be afraid of him,” Andrew replied, firmly, his jaw set. “He may be a Duke, but I will not allow him to do just as he pleases with Miss Blakely, nor with our family.”

  “Promise me you will be careful.”

  Bending to kiss her cheek, Andrew drew in a long, steadying breath against the anger and the fear churning wildly in his stomach. “Of course, I will, Mother,” he promised, as quietly and as calmly as
he could. “Might you ensure that Miss Amy is not distraught or upset in any way? I am sure she could do with some reassurance from you.”

  He saw his mother nod, aware that in sending her to speak to Miss Amy, he would be helping his mother to forget her anxiety somewhat. Miss Amy would keep his mother company as she waited for him to return, helping her not to watch the minutes or the hours pass by.

  Pressing her hands again gently, Andrew walked towards the door, his shoulders set and jaw clenched. He was resolute in his determination to find Miss Blakely, even if it took him hours, days, or weeks. He would have her back in his home, back by his side, back as the love of his life. Life without her was unthinkable.

  “I am coming for you, Elsbeth,” he whispered to himself, as he mounted his horse, feeling it dance with anticipation. “Just hold on a little longer. I will be with you again very soon.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elsbeth stared down at her torn cuffs, wondering if Radford had found her clues that she had surreptitiously managed to throw out of the window. The Duke had not appeared to notice, his eyes closed as the hackney had continued to move forward along the road, although the pistol had been firmly held in one hand, pointed in her direction.

  It had taken all her courage to tear her handkerchief into three pieces, cringing as the sound of it ripping bouncing around the hackney – but the Duke had not stirred. She had not dared throw anything more than those five pieces out of the window, realizing that she had nothing else to discard even if she’d wanted to.

  She had no idea how long they’d traveled for, but eventually they’d come to a stop at some inn or other, where she’d been warned not to make a sound, a knife point pressed into her back again as they’d walked towards the inn.

  And now here she was, in a small room in some unknown inn, left in peace to eat and drink to refresh herself for what was to come.

  Her heart ached for Radford. She wanted to go to him, wanted to hurry away from this place and return to his arms, but there was nowhere for her to go. She could not exactly climb out of the window, given that it was much too high up since they were on the second floor of the inn. Swallowing her tears, Elsbeth tried her best to think calmly, trying to come up with some way of escaping, only for her mind to refuse to do anything other than cry out for Radford.