“Would you like me to cancel the event?” the housekeeper asked.
He hesitated.
But it didn’t make sense.
“She’ll be there,” he said confidently. “She must have gone off on a walk.”
“With all her attire?” the housekeeper asked.
Blast it.
“Perhaps she gave it to her brother, to–er–be cleaned.”
“Cleaned?” The housekeeper widened her eyes.
“You know women,” Hugh said. “After all, you’re–er–one yourself. And you’re always thinking about cleanliness too!”
“It’s my position, my lord,” his housekeeper said sternly.
“Well, there’s that,” he said, raking his hand through his hair.
Emma’s absence didn’t make much sense, but everyone always said women were strange creatures. Most likely this was simply the first sign Hugh had seen that they might have had somewhat of a point. “She could be shy about having you do her washing.”
“Perhaps,” the housekeeper said. Her tone was still uncertain, but she curtsied and left the room.
Hugh hesitated, wondering if he should run after her and tell her to cancel everything.
But that would be absurd.
That would mean Emma no longer wanted to marry him, no longer wanted to spend her life with him, and that was impossible to contemplate.
He wouldn’t worry about something so minor as some missing clothes. He would trust in her.
Soon they would be married, and they’d laugh at his uncertainty.
He finished getting ready and descended the steps to the reception room. Candlelight flickered from candles perched in elegant candelabras.
If Hugh hadn’t felt romantic before, he certainly would have been compelled to be romantic now.
But Hugh was feeling romantic. He wanted to tell Emma just how much he adored her. Life seemed too short to properly convey his feelings to her, and he wanted to see her soon, so he might begin properly cataloging his emotions.
Voices sounded.
The voices were high-pitched, and in the next moment he saw a flurry of ball gowns.
He relaxed.
The housekeeper had no doubt been mistaken. Perhaps Emma had simply changed rooms, aided by some new housemaid who hadn’t followed the proper hierarchical procedures of informing Mrs. Holland first. It would all be sorted soon.
He gazed at the women, smiling as he moved his gaze from face to face.
But he didn’t see Emma’s face.
He frowned.
Emma was not given to lateness. In fact, she’d lauded the importance of timeliness.
Why is she not here?
Jasper entered the room. His face was pale, and his lips were set in a determination that was unusual for him. “Let’s go onto the balcony, Beechmont.”
“The festivity is about to begin.”
“There’s something you need to know first,” Jasper said. He leaned toward him and whispered, “It’s about Miss Braunschweig.”
Hugh widened his eyes but allowed himself to be led outside.
The feeling of dread grew within him.
It was most odd that she wasn’t among the other women, and it was most odd that Mrs. Holland had said her clothes were gone from her room.
“I am afraid I have some unfortunate news,” Jasper said.
Jasper’s normal good humor and confidence had vanished and seemed to be replaced with an odd formality and a definite nervousness. Jasper’s voice never trembled. Jasper’s voice was strong and powerful.
But his voice certainly trembled now, and his eyes didn’t meet Hugh’s.
“Miss Braunschweig has left,” Jasper said.
“It’s not just her clothes that have disappeared?”
Jasper shot him a quizzical look. “I’ve been informed that a maid saw Miss Braunschweig entering Lady Letitia’s carriage. Apparently, they were heading to the continent.”
The words stung.
Why would Emma have left without telling him goodbye? And why would she have left England entirely?
It was just...
She couldn’t have left.
She’d told him she’d loved him, and they’d spent a glorious night in each other’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” Jasper said.
Hugh was silent.
He stared into the night. The view was the same as always. There was the row of chestnut trees, lit by the full moon and the sparkling stars. But this night, the floral scents that wafted through the air, the hum of animals moving about, and the opulence of the balcony itself did not make his heart surge with pride to be living here: rather, he realized how isolated he’d been.
He’d brought all these women here to find a wife, to find someone with whom he might take on the world. And the woman he’d chosen, the woman he’d loved, had decided to return to a homeland she’d previously shown no interest in returning to.
I’m alone.
His fingers felt numb and his heart ached.
“We can go after her, if you like. It can be...romantic,” Jasper said. “Though I’ll be the first to say that you have plenty of wonderful alternatives inside.”
Hugh shook his head. “No, Jasper.” He sighed. “I’ll go inside to make my apologies.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
SOMEWHERE ON THE ENGLISH Channel
“PLEASE PREPARE MY HAIR,” Lady Letitia said, arching her neck.
“Very well.” Emma removed a brush and approached Lady Letitia. The ship swayed awkwardly.
“Ouch,” Lady Letitia said. Her eyes, though, danced with mirth.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Emma said.
“Oh, I do wish the marquess could see us now,” Lady Letitia exclaimed. “I do so wish you’d expressed a desire for being a lady’s maid earlier. It would have been so delightful to see his face.”
“I’d rather not talk about him,” Emma said stiffly.
“My dear, you don’t have much choice,” Lady Letitia said. “Besides, ships can be so dull, do you not think? I think it would be far nicer to talk about your predicament.”
Personally, Emma did not find ships dull in the least. Ships tossed and turned. They were cramped and claustrophobic. They were everything Emma despised.
“Tell me,” Lady Letitia said. “Did the marquess do something quite dreadful? Is that why you’re in such a hurry to flee?”
“Nonsense,” Emma said, appalled. “Lord Metcalfe is a man of absolute honor.”
“Hmm...” Lady Letitia gave her a quizzical glance. “You do seem loyal to him.”
Her face paled. “I do hope you haven’t done anything dreadful. I rather would not have a scandal by taking you on. Mama would be quite appalled.”
“No,” Emma said, but perhaps her voice wasn’t exactly reassuring, for Lady Letitia continued to look at her skeptically.
“Perhaps I can brush my hair tonight,” Lady Letitia said. “You may go.”
Emma nodded and left the cabin.
She was making the right choice.
She was certain.
Perhaps the ship was moving farther and farther from England, but she would return to her own village, and live the life she was supposed to live, and not the life that her brother had dreamed of them having for both of them.
She would work for her aunt and uncle, and perhaps, if she were lucky, she might marry one of the local men. A baker or a blacksmith.
And perhaps, if she were truly lucky, she would forget the exact shade of Hugh’s eyes, and she would forget the feel of his hands on her skin, and she would forget the feel of his lips on hers.
SOMEBODY WAS KNOCKING on his door. Hugh glowered at it from the comfort of his bed.
Unfortunately, his glower did not suffice in stopping the knocking.
“Hugh, dearest?” His mother’s voice wafted through the door, and he groaned.
Insomnia had never raged through Hugh with more force, but he’d taken to padding through his estate during the
night and sleeping during the day, all the better to avoid sympathetic looks from his mother. His guests had long left, but it was the absence of only one, whom he mourned.
It seemed his mother was having difficulty taking a hint.
“Yes?” Hugh grumbled.
The door pushed open immediately, and his mother sauntered through the room.
“You really should rise,” his mother said.
“I’m experiencing chest pain.”
Her eyes softened, but then she shook her head. “Up. It’s been three weeks.”
“But I must experience a lifetime without her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I loved her,” Hugh wailed.
“I know.”
“How could she have hurt me like this? Going to the Austrian Empire? It’s absurd.”
His mother was silent for a moment, assessing him. “I’ve heard some intriguing information about her.”
“Oh? Who was your source of gossip this time?”
“Lady Agnes,” his mother said, frowning.
“She barely saw Miss Braunschweig,” Hugh said. “Hardly a fount of knowledge.”
“It seems that she had some information on the young lady’s brother,” Hugh’s mother said.
“She just wants me to marry her daughter,” Hugh said. “That will not happen. I shall be forever alone.” He gazed mournfully in the direction of the window.
“Have tea with Lady Agnes,” Hugh’s mother said firmly.
“I cannot leave this castle,” Hugh said dramatically.
“Yes, yes. Your heart will not allow it,” Hugh’s mother said. “I’ve heard it before. It is good then that Lady Agnes is in the drawing room.”
Hugh’s eyes widened. “And you’re not entertaining her?”
“She is aware of your...situation,” Hugh’s mother said.
“I hope you did not tell her.”
“She guessed. It is unlike you to not take part in any of the village activities.”
“And she knows I’m here?” Hugh asked.
His mother nodded.
“Bloody hell,” Hugh grumbled.
His mother widened her eyes. “Your vocabulary is atrocious.”
“It suits the occasion.”
“I think you will find that the woman you desired to marry was not nearly as perfect as you imagine.”
“That’s nonsense.”
His mother shrugged. “I’ll tell your valet to assist you.”
Hugh gave a tight smile as his mother left the room.
Soon he was dressed and heading to the drawing room. He blinked into the bright light.
It would be far more convenient if Lady Agnes were in London. Meddlesome aristocrats who lived nearby were unideal. Unfortunately, Parliament was not in session, and everyone was home with their families.
Emma was gone, and he hadn’t chased after her.
He should have scoured the countryside for her.
She must have realized he might be a marquess, but he wasn’t truly the sort of marquess that his father had been.
The castle had emptied, and he’d been alone with his servants.
Today though, he would have tea with Lady Agnes. He only hoped that she did not intend to thrust her daughter at him.
He’d realized he’d been far too insistent on the virtues of marriage.
Marrying the wrong person would be much worse than marrying no one, and Hugh was certain that anyone who was not Emma would be the wrong person.
He entered the parlor. His mother and Lady Agnes were having scones and tea.
Lady Agnes rose, and he bowed as she dipped into a curtsy.
“How nice to see you,” he lied.
She frowned. “I’d rather hoped you would look less forlorn. You appear as if your heart has been broken.”
“That is an apt description,” he said.
She leaned toward him. “Then I must assure you that the loss of the so-called baron’s sister is nothing to wallow over.”
“So-called?” He raised his eyebrows.
Lady Agnes nodded. “So-called.”
And then she leaned closer. “It is my great displeasure to share some utterly unfortunate news about her.”
Hugh stiffened.
Lady Henrietta’s mother leaned closer, and her lips turned up slightly, as if she were forcing herself to keep from smiling. “Her father was not a baron.”
Hugh blinked.
“She is a fraud,” Lady Agnes continued, evidently mistaking his silence for a desire for more information. “It is abhorrent that she was allowed entry to this home and considered to be a marchioness.”
“She is the woman I love,” Hugh said sternly.
Lady Agnes widened her eyes. “You knew about her family?”
“Indeed.”
Hugh’s mother stared at Lady Agnes. “You were alone with Miss Braunschweig on her final day.”
“What?” Hugh jerked his head toward Lady Agnes, whose complexion had pinkened.
“What precisely did you say to her?” Hugh growled.
“Merely that her brother is of horrible character.”
“That wasn’t your place to say.”
“I thought it vital she knew that he behaved most despicably toward a young lady at a ball. Most distressing. He is not accepted by society in London. Thus, she would make you a dreadful bride. Not like my Henrietta, naturally.”
Hugh blinked. No doubt this was why Emma’s brother did not want them to attend the season.
He frowned. “She should have told me.”
“I agree completely,” Lady Agnes said.
Hugh rose quickly. “Thank you, Lady Agnes. It has been a pleasure to see you.”
“Oh?” Lady Agnes rose, and a smile spread over her face. “I’m certain my daughter will be eager to see you now that you have recovered from your...indisposition.”
Hugh gave a tight smile. “I am afraid I will be out of the country for a while.”
His mother blinked. “What do you mean?”
“My dear friend, the Duke of Jevington, was eager to explore the continent with me. I am going to take him up on this offer.”
He gave a deep bow and exited the room rapidly, before his mother and neighbor could protest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ONE MONTH LATER IN the Austrian Empire
Hugh read the name of the town. Maiengarten. He’d wrangled the name from Emma’s brother. “That’s it.”
“This is where we went all the way from England?” Jasper stared, a baffled expression on his face. “But it’s just a village. A hamlet.”
“We have sufficient buildings in London for you to marvel over when we return.”
Jasper coughed. “Er–naturally. It just seems rather small.”
“Let’s go ask if anyone knows Emma,” Hugh said.
“How could they not?” Jasper grumbled. “There’s nowhere for people to hide.”
The village did seem to contain solely one street, though it was a pretty street with half-timbered houses with heavy wooden roofs on either side. It was possible that the buildings exceeded even Hugh’s castle in age.
This is where Emma was raised.
This is where she has walked.
This is where she’s laughed, where she’s cried, where she’s hoped...
Jasper frowned. “I do hope you’ll be rather less maudlin when you’re reunited with her.”
“If she’ll take me,” Hugh said, and his heart panged.
She’d already said no to him...without even saying goodbye.
“Let’s walk more quickly,” Jasper huffed. He flagged down a woman and spoke to her in halting German and asked if she’d seen an Englishwoman.
“There are no Englishwomen in this town,” the woman said sternly.
“She’s Austrian but speaks English,” Hugh said hastily.
Jasper translated reluctantly.
The other townspeople turned their gazes toward him, and he felt suddenly ridiculous. He
’d always been grateful that breeches were no longer in favor, particularly the pastel monstrosities paired with lace-ridden shirts that had been popular with his grandfather’s generation. He suddenly felt gauche in his trousers beside these men in their lederhosen. He should have brought his buckskin breeches. His dark trousers and tailcoat, though it met the requisite elegance that Brummel at his best would have advocated for, looked overly formal and...foreign.
“I’m sorry,” Jasper said. “Poor luck.”
Hugh sat down abruptly, ignoring the suddenly raised eyebrows of the other people in the tavern.
They could raise their eyebrows.
And they could whisper words he didn’t understand.
It didn’t matter what they thought of him.
All that mattered was Emma, and the fact that he hadn’t managed to find her.
“Or perhaps she’s still on her way,” Jasper said. “Perhaps she changed her mind about coming here.”
Hugh considered the possibility.
He thought of all the ways she could have got lost between here and this tiny town perched on an obscure hilltop. He thought of all the people who could have taken advantage of her.
The world was a dangerous place, and she’d decided not merely to venture out on her own, but to cross borders, channels and mountainous regions that seemed to have been formed just to keep stubborn people like Emma from traversing them.
She could be lost, she could be hurt, she could be...dead.
The thought thundered through his mind.
“Why don’t we go on our original journey?” Jasper suggested. “We’ll head down to Venice. You’ll be distracted in no time.”
Hugh flung a hard stare at his best friend, and the man had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.
Good.
He turned to the woman. “Is there an inn we could stay at?”
The woman nodded, looking rather less stern than before.
Most likely his lovesick agony was evident on his face, or perhaps she was simply happy that two men with a no doubt poor grasp of the currency and the sort of melancholic faces that indicated a person apt to attempt to soothe himself with ale, would be staying in her village.
“There is,” she said. “Down the road.”
A Kiss for the Marquess (Wedding Trouble, #5) Page 20
