by Julia London
“But he’s not a stranger! He is my friend, Captain Lockhart!” she insisted again.
“If he’s such a dear friend of yours, why hasn’t he presented himself to your mother?” Penny demanded, folding her arms across her middle and glaring down at the girl.
“Oh, he will,” she assured her, nodding eagerly. “But he said it will be a surprise.” And with that, the girl was off again, leaving a bewildered Penny Peckinpaugh to wonder if there was even one ounce of truth to her story.
Twenty-three
Finding Ellie was remarkably easy; one would think she’d have taken more care to cover her tracks.
Follifoot, for all his timidity, was really rather resourceful when given a ten-pound note. Though that had depleted Liam’s funds to a contemptibly paltry thirty pounds, it seemed just the thing to spur Follifoot into eagerly confessing that as he had been collecting the post for several years, he had, quite by chance, naturally, noticed that Miss Farnsworth often received letters from a Lady Peasedown of Peasedown Park, near King’s Lynn.
“King’s Lynn?” Liam asked. “And where might that be?”
“North, sir. One might say in the midst of Cambridge, Norwich, and Peterborough.”
Liam blinked.
“Rather near the sea,” Follifoot added helpfully.
The sea. Of course! The lass had planned a rather grand escape with her treasure, hadn’t she? Nonetheless, Liam peppered Follifoot with enough questions to assure himself that there were no other friends or relatives (just as Ellie had told him) until he was convinced there was really no other place she might have gone, save her sister Eva’s. But that possibility he immediately discounted—it would be far too easy for him to track her there, and besides, from what he had observed that afternoon at Vauxhall, her sister was none too fond of his Ellie—perhaps because his darling angel had trussed up her young sister way back when and had stolen a frock or a piece of jewelry. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her.
He packed up his things, stuffed the kerchief with the delicate in his pocket, and cursed her beneath his breath for having taken his plaid, too, the loss of which, to his way of thinking, was a grave insult on top of an obvious injury.
Liam arrived at King’s Lynn a day after Ellie. This he knew courtesy of the clerk at the transferring station, who laughed when Liam asked him for directions to Peasedown, mentioning the sudden parade of visitors. As a point of fact, however, after asking several pointed questions as he loomed menacingly over the man, Liam learned that the parade actually consisted of only two other visitors—a woman and a young girl, who had walked to Peasedown just a day previous to his arrival.
Lovely. Liam could almost smell the scent of lavender bathwater in the air. He flashed a cold smile, thanked the clerk for his help, then asked where he might find an affordable inn, one that could be had for a few shillings. He was not intent on seeing Ellie straightaway, oh, no. He’d give the lass time to settle in and be comfortable in her new surroundings. Then he would surprise her as she had surprised him.
At the down-at-the-heels inn the clerk directed him to, Liam put his things aside, took out his last sheet of vellum, and dashed off a letter:
Dearest Mother, I pray this finds you well. As for me—quite cross, for London had me all in knots.
I am now unbound and destined for home. I’ve just one spot of trouble to address, but I shall string it all up straightaway, on my word. Might I impose on you to ask the Douglas to be so kind and give over a lamb? English food is rotten gruel and I am craving stew. L.
After sleeping astonishingly well that night, Liam was up at dawn, walking the long road east.
He was, like most travelers, taken aback by the considerable size of Peasedown Park. It was grand, to be sure, and he could imagine Ellie there, could even imagine her mistress of such a grand place. Upon further reflection, he decided the enormous size of the house and grounds were to his advantage, as he could quietly observe the little thief from a variety of vantage points in the wooded area that surrounded the main house.
And he did exactly that over the next few days, noting with some irritation that Ellie seemed quite at home and completely unrepentant. Fortunately, the weather was cool but bearable, and the thief was often out-of-doors, looking as if she were on some bloody holiday, strolling about the grounds with her friend, or reading a book beneath the arbor, or even more outrageously, participating in a game of lawn bowling, over which she grew quite enthusiastic, jumping and whirling about with each bowl.
Unrepentant was she? Before he was through with her, she’d be begging for mercy.
Safely hidden in the woods, Liam watched Ellie and the Peasedowns, and he became increasingly annoyed. He wondered just how long she intended to stay so comfortably quartered here? Had she disposed of the beastie yet? Did she suspect he had followed her or thought herself so very clever as to have eluded him completely? Did she think of him at all? Had she ever loved him as she had said, or had it been a ruse from the moment he had opened his fat gob and told her about the beastie? Was it possible that he, a trained soldier, a decorated officer of the British Army, could be so bloody gormless when it came to matters of the heart?
Gormless hardly began to describe his shortcoming—he was a goddamn fool, he was, for having, in the course of these few days, allowed his fury to subside a bit. A wee bit. Liam realized, much to his horror, that in thinking about Ellie and what she had done to him, he had, rather grudgingly, admitted that it had been a rather clever ploy. Bravo and all that, for he could not have thought of a better contrivance had his sorry life depended on it. Not that he was forgiving her betrayal by any means—never! God, no! He still bristled mightily at the recollection, still wanted to get his hands on her and teach her a lesson for playing with fire. But there was, regrettably, a part of him that understood her desperation, understood how she might have felt trapped by her predicament. Given what he knew about Natalie (the lass was awfully peculiar), he could, in a way, understand why Ellie had done what she did.
And perhaps, just perhaps, if he were a contemplative man—which he was not—but if he were, he might have realized that what bothered him most about the ordeal was that he had not given Ellie any cause for hope, and she had therefore felt forced into doing what she did. But everything had happened so fast! He might have worked his way through the maze of unfamiliar emotions and startlingly new feelings and cold hard facts, eventually he would have, and he would have found a way to care for her, even from afar.
Aye, but it was pure fancy now, wasn’t it? She’d ruined any chance of it, and he’d done enough damned pining. At present he was far more interested in getting his hands on the beastie, for if there was one thing he could not do, and would not do, it was to go home empty-handed, without that damned statue.
If only he didn’t miss her so terribly. If only he could go for a single moment of the day without thinking of her. If only he could stop recalling the feel of her lips against his, or her bloody brilliant smile. If only he could ignore the throbbing ache in his chest every time he thought of her, or the thing that lay like a lump of coal in the pit of his belly every time he saw her. Damn her.
It was so painful that he tried not to watch Ellie at all, tried to focus on Natalie, but he discovered that his feelings for the child, while wholly different, were just as strong as they were for her wretched, thieving mother. Nattie seemed happy enough—what child wouldn’t on such a grand estate? Yet Liam couldn’t help noticing that when she and the other children played outside, she played alone while the two Peasedown children were amused by their governess.
When he at last found the opportunity to approach Natalie one crisp morning, she was not in the least surprised to see him, but, rather oddly, seemed to expect him. “Have you come to rescue us?” she asked immediately, breathlessly.
Laria again. “Ah, Nattie, lass…we must be careful, eh? Wouldn’t want the king’s soldiers to find us and all that,” he blathered.
She looked very disappointed, and h
e quickly pressed on, eliciting her help. “As it happens, yer mother took something belonging to me—”
“Your skirt?” she asked brightly.
Liam sighed wearily. “’Tis no’ a skirt, ’tis a—never mind. Aye, she took the kilt and a…a trinket of sorts. Do ye think ye could find it, lass? Do ye think we might make a game of it?”
“Yes!” she said eagerly, “I’ll ask her!”
“No, no, ye mustn’t do that,” he said instantly, and put a finger to his lips, shaking his head.
“But why?”
“Why? Because…because it would ruin the surprise, it would!”
Natalie brightened. “Oooh, I adore surprises!”
Aye, but not this sort of surprise. Nonetheless, Liam succeeded in convincing Natalie to keep his presence a secret until he could surprise her lovely, perfidious mother. He did not, of course, tell her that he intended to catch the thief off-guard and bounce her right on to her pretty little arse. Or that when the circumstances were right, he’d bind her mother up much as she had done him, find the beastie and his kilt, then leave her every bit as aroused as she had left him, the evil, wicked temptress.
“But when shall we surprise her?” Natalie asked each day that he saw her, growing increasingly impatient.
“Soon, lass. Very soon,” was all he could say, for he wasn’t entirely certain how he would gain entry into the house. “Did ye find the trinket, then?”
“No,” she would say petulantly, tiring of their little game.
“Where did ye look, then? The drawing room?”
“They have thousands of drawing rooms!” she would protest, her arms flailing wide to demonstrate just how many rooms there were in that mammoth house.
“Then ye must try yer mother’s sitting room, and her bedroom. Have ye looked under her bed?”
“All right,” Natalie would say wearily, and with Liam’s urging she’d turn and march back to the mansion to have another look.
And then, one glorious day, Natalie said yes, she had found the plaid, wrapped around something and hidden behind a hatbox in her mother’s dressing room. He cuffed her chin, smiled proudly at his accomplice. “See there? I knew ye could do it, lass!”
“Now will you rescue us?” she demanded.
He paused, caught himself, struggled with an answer. At last he smiled. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and thank the saints, that seemed to satisfy Nattie for the time being.
Lord Peasedown was a true country gentleman, as defined by his habits as he was his title. Every morning at eleven o’clock he took his curricle to town, and while his horses munched on oats in the municipal stables, he munched on luncheon at the gentlemen’s club in the old part of town. Then he would repair to the common room to sip brandy, smoke a cheroot, and casually peruse the daily news dispatch from London.
One afternoon, he was pleased to be introduced to a Scotsman by Captain Pemberton, a local celebrity for his role in the Battle of Waterloo, for which he had received much acclaim. The Scotsman, also a captain, was purportedly a celebrated war hero himself (at least he was wearing several medals), and as not many visitors came to King’s Lynn, Peasedown found the man rather engaging, all in all. And he liked the lilt of his Scottish brogue.
When Captain Pemberton pardoned himself to converse with another gentleman, Peasedown remarked (lest he lose this rare audience), “There was quite a lot of praise for the Highland Regiments during the war.”
“Ah, ’tis kind of ye to say. But the men from King’s Lynn were the better soldiers. Learned quite a lot from them, I did.”
Peasedown knew this to be quite true, as he was very well acquainted with several of their fathers, and he sat a little higher in his winged-back leather chair. “I believe I can say, without equivocation, that our boys are unusually clever as a whole, and rather vigorous athletes, owing chiefly to the excellent weather here.”
“Very important attributes for a soldier to have. And the weather here is indeed right bonny.”
Smiling, Peasedown put down his paper. “Just passing through, then, sir? Or do you now call King’s Lynn home?”
“Aye, just passing through on me way home. I’ve been to call on cousins in London.”
“Indeed? I am to London quite often,” Peasedown said, offering a cheroot to the Scot and taking one for himself.
“Then perhaps ye are acquainted with the Lockharts of Mayfair,” the captain said as Peasedown lit his cheroot.
He brightened immediately. “The Lockharts!” he exclaimed. “I had the distinct pleasure of attending college with Drake!” he offered, omitting the small detail that he had not actually known Drake, just attended the same college at the same time.
“Did ye, now!” the captain exclaimed, just as happily. “Unfortunately, I’ve no’ had the pleasure of gaining introduction to Cousin Drake, as we seem to be in London’s Mayfair at odd times. But I should like to think that Cousin Nigel and I are quite good chums.”
Peasedown beamed, delighted to know the Scotsman had just come from Mayfair, as he rather fancied himself a man-about-town, too, even though he really very rarely got to London anymore. Nonetheless, he felt the need to impress on his new friend that he could if he so desired. “We’re often visited by our many friends from London. Mayfair in particular.”
“Indeed?”
“Why, we’ve a visitor just now! Not from Mayfair, but Belgravia. Miss Farnsworth, the daughter of Viscount Farnsworth. He’s rather prominent among the ton.”
“Miss Farnsworth? Surely ye jest with me, sir! I’m well acquainted with Miss Farnsworth! Quite pretty, is she no’, and so very agreeable!”
As Peasedown had not expected him to actually know Ellen, this bit of news tossed him for a small loop. “Well…ah, yes, she is quite lovely,” he mumbled. “You’ve made her acquaintance, you said?”
“Many times. Betwixt ye and me, sir, I had made it a point to make her acquaintance,” the captain said with a subtle wink.
“Ah!”
“Rather keeps to herself, unfortunately.”
“Well. I should think her going out into society is somewhat limited. She’s a mother and one can only imagine what all that entails. And she’s not really a debutante—a little old for that, I suppose.”
“Pity, really, for a kinder person I’ve no’ met. And so very thoughtful.” The captain looked away, sighed longingly, and Peasedown was instantly struck with the notion that he was rather smitten with Ellen. A bright idea took hold—granted, he usually left the matchmaking to Judith, but he did rather like Ellen, and thought that but for one unfortunate summer, she might have married an earl or such. It seemed to him rather sweet if Ellen were to find happiness; after all, Judith had assured him she had paid for her atrocious lack of judgment all those years ago.
On a whim, Peasedown set his cheroot aside. “If she’s a particular favorite, then you must come and pay a call to our Miss Farnsworth. She’s with us a fortnight or more, and I am quite certain she’d be delighted to receive an old friend!”
The Scotsman grinned and leaned forward, so close that Peasedown noticed a violent little twinkle in his green eyes. “That, sir, would delight me to no end, it would.”
As Liam intended to depart King’s Lynn soon, Peasedown figured there was no time like the present to renew the acquaintance between him and Ellie, and it wasn’t long thereafter that Liam found himself in the main salon at Peasedown Park, standing at the hearth, one arm propped on the mantel as he sipped a very fine brandy and took in the opulent surroundings while Peasedown droned on about the fishing industry in and around King’s Lynn. As frightfully boring as the man was proving to be, Liam relished every moment of his speech, for every moment brought him closer to confronting his little larcenist. The anticipation of it was all aglow in his gut; he felt downright cheerful for the first time in days.
And he could not have been happier when a door flew open, and Peasedown was instantly on his feet with a hearty “Here they are!” as a woman with
auburn hair and a bright smile came sailing toward her husband. And strolling languidly behind her, the unsuspecting thief who had stolen his beastie and his heart, her head down, fidgeting with her sleeve. It perturbed him greatly to see that she was even more beautiful than he had ever seen her, dressed in a beautiful gown of sea green and gold, her hair swept up in a lovely, fashionable style, walking into the room as if she had lived there a thousand years.
But then Lady Peasedown stopped and asked, “Why, Richard! Who have you brought to us?” Donning a charming smile, Ellie looked up—and froze, that lovely smile fading instantly.
Nearly bursting with satisfaction, Liam nodded politely. Ellie gaped at him, her expression one of confusion, and—oh, how delightful—cold hard fear.
“Darling, look at my great fortune! I had the opportunity to be introduced to a dear friend of our Ellen—Captain Lockhart! They were rather well acquainted in London.”
“They were?” Lady Peasedown exclaimed, happily stealing a quizzical glance at Ellie.
“Perhaps Miss Farnsworth does not recall our friendship quite as favorably as I do,” Liam said, pushing away from the mantel and striding forward to Lady Peasedown. “I merely hope to be counted among her many friends.”
Lady Peasedown’s smile returned with his deprecation; she cast a sly grin at Ellie. “Why, darling, how very cunning of you, neglecting to mention Captain Lockhart!” She twirled away from Ellie and marched forward, hand extended. “Welcome, Captain Lockhart. A friend of Ellen’s is most welcome in our home.”
“Thank ye,” he said, bowing low over her hand. “And a great pleasure it is to make yer acquaintance, Lady Peasedown,” he said, then straightened, letting his gaze shift to Ellie, where it landed, hard.
The blood had drained from her face; she held her hands clasped tightly before her, pressed against her stomach, and she looked so aghast that Liam wanted to laugh with perverted pleasure. He strolled forward and held out his palm to receive her hand. “Miss Farnsworth. We meet again.”
