Could it be that he truly wants me to stay? If that is the case, why doesn’t he simply say so? Why is he making things so painfully confusing?
The realization should have pleased her, but it annoyed her instead. She’d spent the better part of this morning upset that he’d dared to bring up having her leave again, only to return to her bedchamber to find that he’d found ways to make her more comfortable. Just what was he doing playing with her emotions like this?
This simply cannot do. I must give him a piece of my mind.
“My Lady?” Minnie called as Elizabeth shot to her feet.
“Please, prepare a change of clothing for me, Minnie,” Elizabeth said as she made her way to the door. “I shall return shortly. There is a simple matter I need to take care of first.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Elizabeth left the bedchamber and made her way back the way she came, her steps determined. Paintings of somber-faced lords and ladies watched her go by, her feet almost stomping against the long dark-blue carpet that stretched throughout the length of the hallways. A part of her knew she was only using this as an excuse to see him again, but she didn’t care. When she was mad at him, happy with him, or otherwise, Elizabeth wanted to be in his presence.
You’re raving mad, Elizabeth, she spoke in her head. You are simply mad. If Father were to see you now, well…
If Lord Gillet were to see her now, she didn’t know how he would react. That uncertainty—and the guilt that trapped her whenever she thought of him—was the reason she tried to distract herself from it often. Lord Horenwall? She didn’t care quite as much about him.
Upon reaching the grand staircase, Elizabeth spotted Harold standing by the banister. He appeared to speaking with someone, but upon her approach, the person turned and left. Though she was certain she’d moved silently, Harold faced her and bowed his head slightly. “Is there a matter I can help you with, Lady Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth, a bit taken aback by his over-awareness, forgot what she’d planned to ask. It came back in a second. “Do you happen to know where His Grace is right now?” she asked.
“He is currently in the main parlor, My Lady, with his guest.”
Ah, yes, I’d forgotten he’d been called away by a guest.
Suddenly, something occurred to her. “It was my belief that His Grace had cut off contact with most people from his past. Is this person someone he met just recently?”
“That is not the case, My Lady,” Harold responded.
Elizabeth raised her brows. “Is that so? Could you tell me who it is?”
He bowed his head and again and Elizabeth instantly knew she wasn’t going to like his response. “I am afraid that information I am currently not allowed to speak about, Lady Elizabeth. If you wish to know, you will have to ask His Grace yourself.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Is that all you require of me, My Lady?”
Elizabeth nodded, already growing distracted by her curiosity. Harold’s reluctance to tell her anything didn’t strike her as very odd. It was clear this man was loyal to a fault and if he could not say who this guest was, then it was clear William did not want her to know. Which only made her more intrigued.
“I shall take my leave now.” Harold did just that, leaving Elizabeth with her thoughts.
Should I try to see who this guest is? It may very well be no one of interest. Now that he is the Duke of Brandon, I am sure there are gentlemen who were once conducting business with his father. If I go to see, I will only be intruding.
But a single thought echoed in her mind: what if it is not?
What if this person was someone like her, someone he’d tossed aside? Someone who had learned about him again now that he was the Duke of Brandon and could be more open to public scrutiny? She knew very well that she should not allow anyone to see her here, but perhaps she could simply sneak a peek without this guest noticing her watching. She’d done such things on numerous occasions whenever her parents would entertain friends during her youth. Certainly, her skills had not dulled.
Elizabeth’s curiosity had a mind of its own, and without stopping to think it through, she began to make her way to the parlor. She didn’t know what she would do once she was there, didn’t know how she would keep from coming off as rather rude. But the force of her need to know pushed her.
It wasn’t until she saw the door that she finally came to her senses. “Goodness, what are you doing, Elizabeth?” she asked herself, swiveling on her heels. “You’ve surely lost your mind. First you shout at him and now you are thinking of interrupting him while he’s—”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence when, behind her, the parlor door opened. Elizabeth froze. She couldn’t run, because she would have no chance to get out of sight, so she simply stood there, listening to the hearty laughter than spilled out into the hallway.
“One night, I tell you!” came a booming voice. “One voice and you’ll forget all about—”
Elizabeth cringed, sensing that the sentence had been cut short because she’d been spotted. She pretended to study the simple, yet ornate vase that sat atop a side table next to her.
“Beth!” William gasped behind her.
Elizabeth turned, feigning surprise at the sight of him. “Oh, William, I did not hear your approach,” she lied.
She knew he could sense that it was a lie as well. His face was unmoving, far too unexpressive for her to ascertain what he was thinking. But his eyes were narrowed slightly, his jaw tight. Before she attempted to study it a bit further, a man stepped in front of William.
He had a rather wide frame, tall and hairy enough to resemble a bear. He had rather large eyes as well, and a pert nose that oddly complemented the wide mouth currently stretched into a curious grin. He was dressed plainly, though not unattractively, in a white muslin shirt and cravat, his beige waistcoat matching his dark brown trousers and black boots.
“Well now, William,” the man said, running his gaze up and down Elizabeth. “You did not tell me you had a guest.”
“Because I did not think it was worth mentioning,” William responded dryly.
The man shook his head, not taking his eyes off Elizabeth for a second. She felt exposed all of a sudden and it took all her strength not to shy away from his gaze. It was rather unusual for a gentleman to stare so openly at a lady, and considering the way in which this man spoke, so loud and exaggerated, she doubted he was a part of the gentry. Even so, Elizabeth knew she’d just found herself in a precarious position because, gentry or no, this man could very well reveal her location to others.
He looked back at William, jerking his head towards Elizabeth. “Do you not plan on introducing us?” he asked.
William sighed softly. “I’d hope I wouldn’t have to, but I suppose I no longer have a choice. Nelson, allow me to introduce you to my guest, Lady Elizabeth Parsons. Lady Elizabeth, this man before you is Mr. Nelson Brawn.”
“Lady Elizabeth.” Mr. Brawn’s eyes sparkled as he dipped into a deep bow, swinging his hand out with a flourish. His hand shot out and caught hers, raising it his lips. Elizabeth felt a tremor of disgust rush through her when his lips brushed the back of her gloved hand.
In an instant, William was standing before her, knocking Mr. Brawn’s hand away. He positioned himself between them, growling, “Don’t touch her.”
Mr. Brawn’s grin didn’t diminish in the slightest as he straightened. With the same hand William had just knocked aside, Mr. Brawn patted William on the shoulder. “Fine, fine. I shan’t bother the lovely lady. Though I must ask,” he tilted his head to the side, raising his brows at Elizabeth, “are you the daughter of a Duke, Lady Elizabeth?”
“That,” William cut in before Elizabeth could think of a single thing to say, “is none of your business.”
“Mighty protective of her, aren’t you? I wonder why that is?” It seemed as if nothing William said or did bothered this man. His grin was constant, the bounce in his steps underscoring his happy mood.
“Very well. I must take my leave anyhow. It is a pity I could not stay for much longer. I would have greatly enjoyed finishing that decanter of aged whiskey in your parlor.”
“The next time you think to visit, Nelson,” William said, his tone much wearier than it had been before, “please send word beforehand.” The constant shifts in dynamics between the two men was fast confusing Elizabeth. She couldn’t tell if they were friends or not.
“Did I forget to do that this time? Not to worry. It will not happen again. I know you are quite busy now that things are different for you. Now,” Nelson clapped his hands loudly, “where is that butler of yours?”
“Right here, Mr. Brawn.”
Elizabeth’s heart leapt to her throat, whirling around to see Harold standing right behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach at all. He seemed to have come down the hallway adjacent to them, which would explain why Nelson had not seen him, either. Had he been waiting to be called?
Mr. Brawn did not seem surprised by Harold’s sudden appearance at all. If anything, he seemed amused by it. He laughed heartily, his booming voice echoing down the hallway. “As impressive as ever, my good man! Come, escort me out before William freezes me to the spot with his cold glare.”
“Right this way, sir,” Harold said, turning on his heels.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, My Lady,” Mr. Brawn said to her, tipping an imaginary hat. “I do wish that next time we’ll have the chance to speak longer. Perhaps without William here bothering us.”
“Leave, Nelson,” William growled, making Elizabeth’s heart jump.
Mr. Brawn straightened, saluted William and proceeded to follow Harold, whistling as he left. Elizabeth stared after him, not knowing what to think. She didn’t look away until Harold and Mr. Brawn were completely out of sight.
“Are you out of your mind, Beth?” William asked sharply. “Do you not realize that no one should know that you’re here?”
She cut him a glare without thinking twice, her shoulders straightening at his accusatory tone. “It is not my fault you two decided to leave the parlor at the same moment I was standing outside the door.”
His brows dipped into a confused and shocked frown. “Certainly, you do not mean to say that I am to be blamed for him seeing you?”
“No, but neither am I,” she shot back. Elizabeth watched him blink, watched his eyes cloud with surprise before she realized that she was raising her voice again. Feeling suddenly at odds with herself, she swallowed the sudden annoyance.
“Who was that, exactly?” she asked William, looking up at him.
“An old friend of mine.”
“A friend? It didn’t seem that way.”
“He simply enjoys getting on my nerves.” William sighed again. “Usually, I do not give in, but…”
Elizabeth frowned. “But what?”
He caught her look and shook her head. “Forget I said anything. Is there something you wanted with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were waiting outside for me to exit, were you not?” he asked.
Elizabeth’s entire face went hot. Usually, she would have no qualms with admitting such a thing, but considering she’d so shamelessly lied before made it difficult to get the truth past her lips.
Goodness, I surely have quite a knack for humiliating myself, don’t I?
“I was not waiting for you,” she continued to lie. “As I said before, I happened to be walking through the hallway when you two exited.”
“Is that the story you’ve decided to use?” William asked, his lips twitching. Elizabeth looked away, folding her lips back. He chuckled. “Very well, then. When you are ready to tell me, I shall be in my office.”
Elizabeth winced at her foolish words as he walked by, still chuckling. She was tempted to follow, but she’d done enough embarrassing things for one day. She would question him about the new gowns later, perhaps at dinner. For now, a little distance was needed.
Chapter 16
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson. Please, have a seat.”
James looked over his shoulder at the man who’d just entered his study, noting how broad-shouldered he was in the brief look he’d gotten. He refocused his attention at the task at hand, pouring two glasses of brandy before leaving the decanter on the sideboard and turning to face his guest.
Mr. Wilson had done as James had offered, choosing to sit in one of the plush, dark armchairs sitting at one end of the study. He sat with his back straight, the spectacles perched on his nose looked to be on the verge of sliding right off. He was glancing around room, each move of his head as sharp as a bird and James resisted the urge to grimace in displeasure when the man looked at him with that same jerking head movement.
“Thank you, My Lord,” Mr. Wilson said as he accepted the glass offered to him.
James said nothing. He sank into the chair opposite Mr. Wilson, reclining back comfortably and watching as the man sipped gingerly at the liquor. Mr. Wilson grimaced at first, then seemed pleasantly surprised a moment later. Even so, he set the barely-touched glass down and finally pushed his spectacles up his nose.
“I am pleased, Lord Horenwall, that you have chosen me to conduct this delicate business for you.”
“Yes, well, I have heard a great many things from a friend of mine,” James responded. He didn’t bother to hide his scrutiny of the man before him. It wasn’t as if he were a part of the nobility, so he had no reason to be proper to him. “Though I must say, Mr. Wilson, you are certainly not what I’d expected.”
Mr. Wilson huffed a laugh. “Yes, well, it would not be the first time that I’ve heard that. Looking the way that I do, I would be surprised if I do not inspire much confidence in you at first glance.”
Nor at second, nor at third. The man had a decent build, but that was where the manliness ended. His hair was completely bald in the very center and only a few wisps were hanging on for dear life near the front. He dressed rather decently, but somehow managed to look quite unkempt at the same time. His shirt and trousers appeared to be rather crushed, his cravat tied hastily and his waistcoat seemed to be missing a button. He’d brought in with him a satchel that looked tattered and he clutched it in his lap with both hands.
“Tell me, Mr. Wilson,” James said slowly, his confidence in this man—who had come highly recommended—slowly drifting away. “Why should I hire you for this task?”
Mr. Wilson looked taken aback by the question, but he was answering almost instantly. “It is quite simple, My Lord. You wish to learn about the whereabouts of someone, do you not? That reason alone should lead you to put your trust in me, since there is nothing I know better than how to find those who do not wish to be found.”
James sipped his brandy. “A rather lackluster response, Mr. Wilson.”
“I am quite lackluster in everything I do unless it deals with my profession as a private investigator.”
James stared at the man for a moment, not believing his ears. Then, he chuckled. “You are quite intent, so I shall put my trust in you. I suppose I do not have to tell you that you must act with your highest level of secrecy?”
“That goes without saying, My Lord,” Mr. Wilson said, nodding his head in that jerking manner.
James gritted his teeth, his good humor fleeing at the irritating sight. “Let’s get down to it then. The person I am looking for is a lady—Lady Elizabeth Parsons. I’m certain you must have seen our engagement announcement in the papers, considering it is your job to keep your ear to the ground. I would like for you to concentrate your search on London first. I have a feeling she is still within the city.”
“Yes, My Lord.” In a flash, Mr. Wilson whipped a crumpled piece of paper and a quill pen and pot from his satchel. He used his thigh to hold the paper. James caught sight of scribbles along the lower edge of the paper and assumed he was simply reusing it. “Please, tell me how she looks.”
“She has blonde hair that is quite light in color, almost white if caught in the right
lighting. Very unassuming brown eyes, with freckles dotting her nose.”
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Wilson’s scribbles were rapid. James watched as he crossed something out and rewrote it. “What of the rest of her?”
“She is a bit shorter than most ladies, not tall enough to match my height.”
Mr. Wilson glanced up, looking at James from over the rim of his spectacles. “You have quite the elegant physique, My Lord.”
“I am well aware, Mr. Wilson,” James responded with a smile, tossing the rest of his brandy to the back of his throat. He stood and approached the sideboard to pour himself another. “I’m afraid that is all the information I can remember.”
“This is all the information I need, My Lord.”
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