After the Kiss

by Joan Johnston

  “I will be glad to inform our hostess of your delay,” Diebold offered.

  The last thing Marcus wanted was for word to get back to Alastair that he was heading to London all by himself with the twins. He wanted a chance to explain in person the series of catastrophes that had caused their roundabout journey. “Not necessary,” he told Diebold. “I have sent a note myself.”

  “Very well,” Diebold said. “I will see you—when?”

  “Soon,” Marcus said evasively.

  As Diebold drove away, Miss Sheringham glanced at Marcus with judgmental eyes. “You have a talent for telling clankers. I suppose one must expect that from a rake.”

  “You put me in an impossible situation, Miss Sheringham. What else could I have done?”

  “Let me answer for myself.”

  “How would you have introduced yourself?”

  “I would have made up a name.”

  He raised a supercilious brow. “You seem no stranger to Banbury tales yourself.”

  “I value honesty above all things,” she retorted.

  “Then why this charade?” he asked in a steely voice.

  She was caught off guard by his attack and stared at him a moment too long, long enough for him to see the uncertainty, and fear, in her eyes. Miss Sheringham was not nearly so confident as she wanted him to think.

  He wished she had not revealed the depths of her vulnerability. It brought out his protective instincts and made him ask, “What are you running away from, my dear?”

  Chapter 5

  “I must speak to my ward!” nigel sheringham ranted. “I know she is here. Why are you keeping her from me?”

  Charlotte, Countess of Denbigh, had been unable to placate the ill-humored man. She stood by the mantel in the Duke of Braddock’s drawing room, her hands clasped tightly before her, resisting the urge to shout back. “Miss Sheringham never arrived, my lord. The duchess and I expected her yesterday, but as you can see, she is not among the company here this evening.”

  “You’re hiding her from me!”

  “Why would I do such a thing?”

  The Earl of Ravenwood’s face turned from red to purple, and he sputtered, but no answer was forthcoming. “I am staying here until she arrives … or until she appears,” he said, emphasizing the last word, as though Charlotte could produce Eliza Sheringham from thin air.

  “I am sure the duke and duchess will make you welcome,” she said in a frigid voice.

  Charlotte left the drawing room without another word. She headed straight upstairs to Olivia’s bedroom, where she found the duchess sitting in a wooden rocking chair beside a gold brocade-canopied bed nursing her son.

  Olivia cried out in alarm when the door burst open.

  “It is only me,” Charlotte said, closing the door behind her. “I know I should knock,” she said as Olivia hastily rearranged the wool blanket to completely cover her bared breast, “but I could not wait.”

  “What is it?” Olivia asked.

  “I am afraid something terrible has happened to Eliza. Her guardian is here looking for her. She left home the night before last without a word to him and without requesting a carriage. Ravenwood checked at the White Ball Inn and discovered that Mephistopheles is missing. It sounds to me as though Eliza might be running away. That dastard must have done something to make her flee without a word to anyone.”

  “Now, Charlie, we do not know that.”

  Charlotte dropped to her knees beside the rocking chair and gripped the wooden arm, stopping its movement. “Eliza should have been here by now, Livy, unless she met with disaster somewhere on the road. What if Mephistopheles threw her? I will never forgive myself.”

  Olivia shook her head. “You told me you watched her on Mephistopheles, and she rides like a centaur. However, there is something odd …” Olivia’s lips pursed, and her brow furrowed.

  “What is it?”

  “I was with Reeve when the Duke of Blackthorne asked to speak with him. The duke’s brother, Lord Marcus, was supposed to have arrived yesterday with Blackthorne’s twin daughters, Lady Regina and Lady Rebecca. They seem to have disappeared, as well.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Their whereabouts are presently unknown.”

  “Oh, no! What if a highwayman has kidnapped them all? I must go search for Eliza. I—”

  Olivia grasped Charlotte’s wrist to keep her in place. “You cannot go haring off after Miss Sheringham, Charlie. There is someone else who must be considered first.”

  “What do you mean? I—” Charlotte met Olivia’s shrewd gaze and realized her secret was out. “How did you know?”

  Olivia let go of Charlotte and readjusted the blanket around William, letting her hand drift through his fine blond hair. “I cannot think of another reason why you would willingly give up riding Mephistopheles.”

  Charlotte put her hands to her rosy cheeks. “Does it show? Do you think Lion knows?”

  “You look very happy,” Olivia said with a smile. “But I doubt Lion suspects the truth. Men are oblivious to the signs until they are hit on the head with them.”

  Charlotte relaxed back onto her heels. “Thank goodness. I want to tell him myself—after the house party.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Olivia said. “Once I became enceinte, Reeve would not allow me to do anything for myself. It was nice for a while, but it soon became quite distracting.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I am almost ashamed to say.”

  “I will need help educating Lion,” Charlotte said. “Please tell me.”

  Olivia’s cheeks caught fire, and she lowered her eyes to avoid Charlotte’s intent look. “I took him on a picnic and … and made such passionate love to him that there was no question of my stamina.”

  Charlotte gave a surprised laugh. “What a wonderful idea!”

  “You do see you must allow someone else to go after Miss Sheringham.”

  Charlotte grimaced. “I suppose I must.”

  “Blackthorne is leaving within the hour to search for his brother and his daughters. I suppose he is the most logical person to ask for help.”

  “Where does he plan to start looking?”

  “Viscount Diebold told Blackthorne that he met Lord Marcus on the road, but heading in the wrong direction. The twins were with Lord Marcus at the time, as well as a young man, a stranger to Diebold. Lord Marcus told Diebold he was taking a short detour to London. Even so, he has had time to reach London and travel back to Sussex.”

  “Why would Lord Marcus be going the other way?” Charlotte asked.

  Olivia smiled. “That is not difficult to guess. A confirmed bachelor might be expected to avoid a house party laden with eligible young misses for as long as possible.” The smile faded. “However, Blackthorne knew of no compelling reason why his brother should have gone to London without informing him of his direction first.”

  “Maybe the young man traveling with him holds the key to the mystery,” Charlotte mused. “Who was he?”

  “Lord Marcus introduced him to Diebold as ‘a friend from home.’ Blackthorne says he has no idea who it could be.”

  “Did Diebold give a description of the young man?”

  Olivia gasped. “Oh, dear.”

  “What is it? Are you all right?”

  “Diebold said he hardly noticed the young man—except for his strange golden eyes—because he was too busy admiring the truly magnificent black stallion he was riding. I never made the connection until now. It must be—”

  “Eliza! On Mephistopheles!” Charlotte rose and began pacing. “She must have dressed in men’s clothing to ride astride. But if she is running away from her guardian, why did she not come straight here? She must have known I would protect her. Why would she go to London?”

  “More importantly,” Olivia said, “how did she meet up with the Beau? And why has he not brought her here? It cannot be quite the thing for them to be traveling together without a proper chaperon.”

&nb
sp; Charlotte stopped dead. “If they have been together overnight, Eliza has been compromised, even if the Beau did not …” Charlotte shivered at the thought of what fate her friend might have met at the hands of such a notorious rake. “He will have to propose.”

  “Do not get your hopes too high. If I know the Beau, he will find a way to squeak out of parson’s mousetrap.”

  Charlotte’s jaw jutted. “Not if I can help it.” She headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Olivia called after her.

  “To tell Blackthorne what we have figured out. He will make his brother do the honorable thing.”

  Eliza had felt off balance ever since she laid eyes on the Beau that morning. Riding beside him, it was impossible not to be impressed by the man. He was dazzling, too perfect to be real. His eyes were stunningly blue, his thick blond hair fell attractively over his brow, and his smile—when he graced the world with one—revealed even, pearly white teeth. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his stomach flat, his hips narrow. His muscular legs showed to advantage in skintight buckskins. Best of all, he was several inches taller than her.

  She kept reminding herself that he was a man who used his looks to seduce, that there was no honor in him. Eliza’s lips curled wryly. More to the point, she must resist the temptation to fall into his arms.

  That was why she had asked the Beau such pointed questions. She wanted to hear from his own lips what a dastardly character he was. She wanted to hear proof that his beauty hid a dark soul.

  He had not disappointed her.

  Yet he had allowed her to make the trip on horseback despite his misgivings. He was, in fact, taking her where she wanted to go. And he had lied to protect her.

  What are you running away from, my dear?

  Did she dare trust an infamous rake with the truth about why she had left Ravenwood? Would he take her home if he knew she had run away from her guardian? Or would he take advantage of her lack of protection to further his seduction?

  She had known she would have to tell Julian about Cousin Nigel’s lecherous behavior, but she was not sure she could explain the situation to anyone else. Especially not to a man with his own reputation for debauchery. The Beau would probably laugh at Cousin Nigel’s antics.

  She glanced at him and saw he was watting for her answer. He looked trustworthy. But she did not dare trust him. “I have my reasons for leaving home,” she said.

  “What are they?” he persisted.

  “I would rather not say.”

  “You don’t trust me,” he said flatly.

  “Why should I?” she replied, her temper flaring. “You have confessed behavior that no honorable man would pursue. I do not intend to become another of your victims.”

  She thought she heard his teeth grinding. A muscle jerked in his cheek. He did not look so much attractive now, as powerfully dangerous, like he could snap her neck in his bare hands. She wondered if the thought had crossed his mind.

  His hands tightened on the reins, and his horse began curvetting nervously.

  She resisted the urge to apologize. Better to have him angry with her than practicing his seductive wiles. “My reasons for going to London are my own, Captain.”

  “Very well, Miss Sheringham. I will not pursue the subject further.”

  Four hours later she realized he did not intend to speak to her on any subject. The twins had asked to stop for lemonade at least once every hour, but their uncle had been adamant in his refusal to break their journey before the horses needed to be changed. At noon they stopped at the Bull and Bear, a posting inn on the fringes of London.

  Eliza could see the great houses crowded in upon each other in the distance, could actually smell the mass of humanity that teemed in the thoroughfares and hear a cacophony of sounds: hooves on cobblestones, fishmongers bartering their wares, water splashing, costermongers swearing at one another, coal sliding into chutes.

  “You will wait here with the twins while I locate Major Sheringham,” the Beau said.

  It was an order, one which he expected her to obey. She opened her mouth to remind him she did not take orders and snapped it shut again. All she had to do was let the Beau go without her. She would then be perfectly free to set off on her own. Now that she was close enough to spit at London, she was certain it would not be very difficult to find Julian on her own. Especially since she had more idea of his direction than she had admitted to the Beau.

  “Very well,” she said demurely. “I will wait here until you return.”

  The Beau’s eyes narrowed on her momentarily, and she thought she might have given away the game by acting too docile. That could be easily remedied.

  “Unless, of course, you intend for me to be responsible for the twins, in which case, I would rather come with you. They drink entirely too much lemonade. I would likely spend the entire time running up and down the stairs fetching more and then taking them to the necessary.”

  He gave her a baleful look and said, “I will see that you have a room to yourself.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Captain.”

  He made arrangements with his batman to watch over the twins, and while they all waited in a private dining room, he procured rooms for them at the inn.

  When he was ready to leave, the twins followed him out onto the porch, insistent upon bidding him farewell.

  And seeing more of London, Eliza speculated.

  “I should be back long before supper,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Marcus. We will keep Eliza company,” Reggie promised.

  “Shh,” he hissed. “Remember Miss Sheringham is disguised as a man.”

  “Not for much longer,” Eliza assured him. “Now that we have arrived in London, I can give up my disguise.”

  “I will feel more comfortable if you keep it a little longer.”

  “I cannot allow Julian to see me like this!” she protested.

  “You will have warning enough to change, I promise you,” he said as he mounted his Thoroughbred. He waved one last time before he kneed his horse into the busy thoroughfare.

  “Let’s go inside now, ladies,” Griggs said. “Time to eat.”

  “I will be right in, Griggs,” Eliza said. “As soon as I check on Mephistopheles.”

  Griggs scratched his head. “I don’t know, miss. Captain said I wasn’t to let you out of my sight.”

  Eliza bit back an oath. So the captain thought she would disappear if given the chance, did he? She chuckled. Well, he was right. “Order me some bread and soup,” she cheerfully told Griggs. “I will be back before it is served.”

  The sergeant’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  But there was nothing he could do, Eliza thought. Unless he planned to follow her around like a faithful hound. She gave him a smile that was the soul of innocence.

  Reggie’s stomach growled. She grabbed the sergeant’s hand and tugged him toward the door to the inn. “I’m hungry, Griggs.”

  He looked down at her and smiled. “Very well, lass.”

  By the time he looked up again, Eliza was gone.

  She led Mephistopheles out of the stable from a side door and asked the first person she saw for directions to Stephen’s Hotel on Bond Street. It was a frequent haunt of army officers on leave, and she knew Julian was staying there while in London.

  Eliza had brought along her traveling bag, which she had made sure was left in the stable when they went into the inn, so that she could change into her dress if she had the chance. But she had decided it would be easier to gain admittance to Julian’s rooms as his younger brother, than as a single young lady. Julian would understand why she was dressed in his clothes once she explained why she had fled Ravenwood.

  When she arrived at Stephen’s Hotel, Eliza was grateful for her disguise. The only females she saw wore daring décolletages, too much rouge, and heavy black kohl on their eyes. She knew right away what they were, even though she was not even supposed to know such women existed.
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  Eliza only wished she had thought to bring one of Julian’s old uniforms. She was nearly the only gentleman in the hotel parlor dressed as a civilian. The riot of scarlet and Clarence blue and Cossack green uniforms was splendid. The colors were reflected back a dozen times in the soldiers’ patent leather boots and plumed shako hats. The last time Eliza had seen so many colorful ostrich plumes in one place, the Dowager Marchioness of Montcrief had donned them for a musicale in Kent.

  Eliza explained at the desk that she was Julian Sheringham’s younger brother, come to London to visit him. To her dismay, she discovered Julian was not in. She looked around and realized she would surely end up being discovered if she sat waiting among the soldiers. She could hear enough of their conversations from where she stood to know she did not have a large enough vocabulary of oaths.

  “Is it possible for me to wait for my brother in his rooms?” she asked.

  “I dunno, sir,” the narrow-faced clerk said, appraising her down a very long nose. “Major Sheringham didn’t say nothin’ ’bout a brother.”

  “As you can see, I am here,” Eliza said, taking care to keep her gravelly voice low. “I have not seen my—” She caught herself before she could say cousin. “Brother in two years. I want to surprise him.”

  “Guess that’d be all right. Major Sheringham can throw you out as well as I can, if you ain’t who you say.”

  A porter let her into Julian’s suite of rooms and set her traveling bag on the floor. When he held out his hand, she shook it and said, “Thank you.”

  He scowled, muttered, “Clutch-fisted gentry,” set the key on a table inside the door, and left, closing the door behind him.

  By the time Eliza realized the porter had been waiting for a coin, it was too late to call him back. She clasped her hands behind her and strode around the suite of rooms, looking for signs of Julian.

  His hairbrush sat on the washstand, along with his shaving equipment. His beaver shaving brush was still damp, and she could see a puddle of water on his—she sniffed—sandalwood shaving soap. Perhaps he had only gone somewhere for breakfast and would be back soon.