by Laura Landon
"Give her time," Rachael said as they walked to the door. "This is a lot for someone her age to digest."
The Townsend butler held the door open and they entered Townsend Manor. Rachael stared in wide-eyed amazement at the beauty that surrounded her. She was about to comment on how magnificent she found his family home when the Duke of Townsend came forward. Ben's brother Gideon, Marquess of Sheffield followed, along with Eve, Marchioness of Sheffield, and finally Ben's sister Winnie. Anne wasn't there.
Ben's family greeted them with the warmth and concern of a family that truly cared for each other. They asked after little Claire, then His Grace ushered them toward a large receiving room. Eve entered first and Rachael followed, then Winnie. Ben stepped through the open doorway next, and stopped.
Anne stood on the far side of the room, her gaze searching for, then finding Ben.
His Grace and Lord Sheffield halted, one on either side of Ben.
Ben looked at his sister for several seconds, then lifted the corners of his mouth and smiled at her. "Come here, Annie," he said with open arms.
Anne uttered a small cry, then ran across the room and into Ben's welcoming arms. It was the most beautiful sight Rachael had ever witnessed.
Brother and sister stayed locked together for several moments before Anne lifted her chin and looked up at Ben. "I'm so sorry, Ben. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you,” he answered, holding her closer.
“I know you told me not to have anything to do with Mother, but I wouldn't listen. I can't believe she came with a pistol. I can’t believe she fired at you and Rachael, and little Claire. What's wrong with her, Ben?"
"She's sick, Annie. Terribly, terribly sick."
“What are we going to do?”
“That’s what we’re going to decide,” he said looking at his father.
"Come, children," the Duke of Townsend said, nodding toward the circle of chairs and sofas. He waited until his family was seated, then looked at Eve. “Eve, would you pour?"
"Of course." Eve poured, then handed everyone a cup of tea.
When they'd all been served, the talk revolved around nothing in particular. Finally, Ben asked the question that had brought them here. "Has Mack Wallace arrived yet?"
His Grace shook his head. "Not yet, but I expect him any moment."
His Grace had barely finished his sentence before the butler stepped into the room and announced the fellow’s presence.
"Show him in, Bentley," His Grace said, then Wallace entered the room. Another gentleman entered with him.
"Mr. Wallace," His Grace greeted.
"Your Grace."
Ben’s father introduced everyone, then Mr. Wallace introduced the man with him.
“Allow me to introduce Nick Stillman. He’s a new member of the Bedford Street Brigade, but new doesn’t mean inexperienced. He’s as proficient and qualified as any of my men.”
Rachael studied the two men while Wallace explained the steps they were taking to locate the duchess.
Ben had described Mack Wallace, and he was exactly as Rachael had pictured him. He was tall and broad shouldered. There was an intelligent look in his eyes, and he spoke with authority. He evaluated every word he said and the tone of command in his voice was reassuring.
Her confidence rose moment by moment.
He was bold and brash, and not afraid to ask questions whenever he found something he wanted answered. The man with him was the same, although different in subtle ways.
Nick Stillman sat beside Mr. Wallace and silently evaluated each of them. If Rachael hadn’t been so interested in what thoughts were going through the brigadesman’s mind, it would have been easy to ignore his presence. The only change she caught was the movement of his eyes. And his focus shifted when the speaker changed and there wasn’t a doubt that he was mentally storing ever word spoken.
Rachael didn’t doubt that his purpose in being here was to evaluate every expression on every face, and calculate every word spoken and the meaning beneath the words. Rachael felt confident of his abilities and the protection he would provide.
The conversation gradually shifted to more important points.
"What progress have you made so far?" the Duke of Townsend asked.
"I'm afraid I don't have anything concrete to report, Your Grace. My men discovered the hidden opening Her Grace used to enter the garden at Meadowmont. They also found tracks of a carriage she obviously used to escape the area. Unfortunately, we lost the tracks on a well-traveled road leading to London."
"Are you saying the duchess went to London?" Lord Sheffield asked.
"I'm only saying that the road she took leads to London. Whether or not that was her final destination is unclear. But, assuming that she did go to London, who would Her Grace most likely contact to assist her? Did she have a special friend or relative where she would go who would take her in? Or give her funds?"
All eyes focused on the duke. "She has an elderly aunt living in London. She would give her sanctuary. She raised Ernesta after her parents died."
"Where does she reside?"
The Duke of Townsend provided the address which Mr. Stillman entered into a notebook.
"I'd like to ask you a few more questions," Mr. Wallace said. "You mentioned when we talked earlier that your wife was guilty of a serious crime. I assume that this crime is serious enough that she could be arrested and prosecuted.”
The Duke of Townsend assumed his most regal bearing. "That would be correct. But because of harm it would do to my family, I prefer to handle this privately."
“I’m afraid that may not be possible, Your Grace.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. “And the reason you believe that?” His Grace asked.
Mr. Wallace faced the Duke of Townsend as if his title meant nothing to him. Without a doubt, it didn’t.
“Do you consider your wife dangerous, Your Grace?”
The duke’s features didn’t change. If Rachael hadn’t been watching for an indication of how he intended to answer, she wouldn’t have noticed the color that drained from his face.
“My wife is ill, Mr. Wallace.”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know if you consider your wife dangerous. Either to yourself or to the members of your family?”
The Duke of Townsend didn’t answer for several long moments, and Rachael realized how difficult it was for him to reveal something so personal.
Before anyone could answer Mr. Wallace’s question, Ben took the lead and answered for his father. “Yes, Mr. Wallace. My mother would be considered dangerous. Both to my father as well as the members of our family.”
“Another question,” Mr. Wallace said. “Does this have anything to do with the attempts that were made on Lord Sheffield’s life a little more than a year ago?”
Ben answered again. “Yes. My mother was responsible for the attempts on my brother’s life. She was also responsible for the murder of Lord Sheffield’s mother, and the doctor who was treating her.”
Mr. Wallace didn’t comment for several long moments. Mr. Stillman wrote word after word.
Rachael let her gaze shift to where Ben’s sisters sat. Their reactions differed in stark contrast. Tears filled Anne’s eyes and ran down her cheeks faster than she could blot them with her embroidered handkerchief.
Winnie, on the other hand, didn’t need a handkerchief. She’d assumed her role as caretaker, and had gathered her younger sister against her to offer comfort. The expression on her face was unreadable, and Rachael wasn’t sure what emotions were colliding inside her. It could be anger with her mother, or embarrassment for her mother, or a profound need to do something to erase the problem that devastated her family. Whatever it was, Rachael didn’t think she was the only one who wanted to discover what was going on inside Winnie’s mind.
The investigator with Mr. Wallace watched Winnie with the same interest.
Rachael didn’t have time to wonder what that might b
e. Mr. Wallace voiced his next statement.
“You do realize,” Mr. Wallace said, “that murder is a crime that should have involved the authorities?”
“I realize that,” the Duke of Townsend answered. “But my first responsibility is to my family. And their wellbeing. Making my wife’s crimes public would have destroyed my family’s reputation, and ruined any chance my daughters had to make good matches. I made the only decision I could to protect them.”
The Duke of Townsend lifted his gaze and leveled at Mr. Wallace a look Rachael considered lethal.
“Which is why I hired you,” he said for emphasis. “To find my wife. When you do, I will take care of her so that she doesn’t harm anyone ever again.”
Mr. Wallace nodded as if to answer that he understood his role. “What do you think your wife’s next move will be?” he asked.
Before anyone could answer Mr. Wallace’s question, the door opened and Bentley rushed in.
From the look on the butler’s face, Rachael realized something was wrong. But she didn’t realize how terribly wrong it could be until Bentley stepped aside and Milly rushed into the room.
“She has the babe! She appeared from nowhere, and took her!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The last twenty-four hours had been the longest of Rachael’s life. She’d shed more tears than she thought it was possible for anyone to shed. She’d paced every room on the main floor until she was certain she’d worn a path in the rugs in each room. She’d tried to sit as she waited for Ben to return, but found herself bolting to her feet and walking to the window to check for his return.
Although she tried to remain calm, she couldn’t. Although she tried to be confident that they would get Claire back soon, she wasn’t. The duchess had taken her child and they had no idea where she was. Or how she was.
Rachael tried not to think about how Claire was being cared for. Or if she was being cared for. Or by whom.
It had been more than twenty-four hours. What if she hadn’t been fed? What if she hadn’t been given anything to drink?
Rachael clutched her hands to her stomach and nearly doubled over from the pain.
“Why don’t you sit for a while?” Winnie said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest.”
Winnie and Anne had been with her since they’d received news that Claire had been taken. Eve had offered to come, too, but Rachael had refused her offer. After what had happened, she knew Eve’s place was near her own children. Although unlikely, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Ernesta would attempt to take one or both of the twins. Rachael didn’t wish this kind of torment on anyone else.
She focused her gaze on the drive out the window where she’d kept watch for the last several hours. “Ben should be here soon. He promised to come the moment he had any news.”
“Think positive thoughts,” Winnie said. “Mr. Wallace has ordered every available brigadesman to help in the search. If the other brigadesmen are as intimidating and ferocious as Mr. Stillman appears to be, they won’t give up until they find Mother.”
“I keep telling myself that,” Rachael admitted. “And your father and Ben and Lord Sheffield have an army of men with them, too. They’re searching the surrounding area. They don’t think she went. But Mr. Wallace dispatched two of his men to search any location in London where she might have gone, in the event that she took Claire there.”
“Don’t worry, Rachael,” Anne said, taking Rachael’s hand and holding it. “Mother won’t harm Claire. I know she won’t. I just know it.”
Rachael looked at Ben’s sister and saw the large pools of tears in her eyes. Rachael had been so concerned over Claire’s welfare that she hadn’t considered what it must be like for Winnie and Anne. To know that their mother had not only committed several murders, but had kidnapped an innocent child, was a burden she knew weighed heavily on them.
Rachael pulled Anne into her arms and held her, then led her and Winnie to the sofa and sat with one of Ben’s sisters on either side of her.
“The woman who did this can’t be our mother,” Anne said through her tears. “Something must have happened to change her so.”
“She’s ill, Anne,” Rachael said. “Terribly ill.”
“I know she is,” Anne cried. “And a part of me hates her for what she’s done. But another part of me…” Anne covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
“I feel the same as Anne does,” Winnie said. “I know I should hate her, but…” Winnie paused and swallowed several times. “She’s our mother, Rachael. How can we hate someone we’ve loved our whole lives?”
Rachael reached for Winnie’s hand and held it. “I understand,” Rachael assured them, and perhaps someday that would be true. But at this moment, she was filled with such bitter hatred for the woman who’d taken Claire, there wasn’t room inside her for anything that resembled sympathy or understanding.
“If I could undo what Mother did,” Winnie announced with the emotion she finally unleashed, “I would.”
“I know you would, Winnie. I also know that none of what happened is your fault. Nor yours Anne.”
“But I feel as if there was something I could have done. Something I should have seen, and prevented from happening,” Winnie added.
Rachael placed her hand over Winnie’s and gently squeezed her fingers. “There wasn’t. There wasn’t anything any of you could have done.”
Rachael sat with Winnie and Anne for a few more minutes, then couldn’t stand to be idle any longer and rose to keep her vigil at the window. Her heart raced in her chest when she saw Ben ride up. A stable boy rushed out to take his horse, and Ben made his way to the door.
Rachael raced to meet him. “Have you found her?” she asked the minute Ben stepped across the threshold.
Ben gathered her in his arms and held her close. “Not yet, sweetheart. But we will soon.”
Rachael couldn’t stop a cry from escaping. She refused to allow herself to think that they may never find Claire. That she might never be returned to them. But the longer it went without knowing where she was, the harder it was to remain hopeful.
“We have to do something,” she cried through the tears that ran unabashedly down her cheeks.
“We will,” Ben answered, then wrapped her in his arms and led her to the room where Winnie and Anne waited. He sat with her on the sofa and pulled her next to him.
“Why doesn’t she get in touch with us? Why is she waiting so long?”
“She’s doing it to make us suffer,” he answered. She heard the anger in his voice. And the frustration. “She wants us to become so frantic with worry that we’ll agree to anything she demands.”
“But we know what her demands will be,” Rachael answered. “She wants your father to take her back.” Rachael pulled out of Ben’s arms and looked into his eyes. “Will he?” she asked.
She was nearly frantic with worry. The possibility that His Grace would refuse was something she couldn’t consider.
“Hush, sweetheart. Father won’t let anything happen to Claire. You know he won’t.”
The front door opened and the Duke of Townsend entered with Gideon on his heels. Mack Wallace and Nick Stillman followed them.
“Did you discover anything, Benjamin?” the Duke of Townsend demanded as he entered the room.
“No. No one’s seen anyone that resembles Mother. Especially no one with a babe.”
“Where the hell could she have gone?” His Grace said.
His voice was loud enough to echo in the room, his words and tone harsh enough to cause Winnie and Anne to start. He was as uncontrolled as Rachael had ever seen him.
She’s got to be somewhere nearby,” His Grace said, pacing the floor in long, angry strides. “She isn’t that familiar with the countryside that she’d know anyplace remote to hide. She hated coming to the country, and the few times I could force her from London, she stayed mainly at Townsend Manor. She wasn’t one to call on the tenants. The only place she
ever went was—” The Duke of Townsend stopped short.
“Shadowdown,” Gideon filled in for him.
“Yes,” he said, as he was halfway to the door. Ben and Gideon were on his heels, as well as Mack Wallace and Nick Stillman. They stopped, however, when Henley entered.
“This just came for you, my lord.” Henley handed Ben a folded piece of paper.
Ben grabbed it from Henley’s hand and opened it. He read it, then handed it to his father.
“What does it say?” Rachael asked. She was desperate to know. Desperate for any clue as to where Ernesta had taken Claire.
Ben wrapped his arms around her as if she’d need his support upon hearing what his mother had written.
Rachael’s heart thundered louder, and her legs threatened to give out from beneath her.
“Read it, Father,” he said as he gathered her closer.
Benjamin – as you know, I have your daughter. She is well—so far, and will remain so if you bring your father so I can speak to him. I will wait for you on the cliffs near Shadowdown. Don’t disappoint me, or the child will die.
Rachael buried her face against Ben’s chest and let his closeness muffle her cry of anguish.
“Claire will be all right, Rachael,” he whispered. “Nothing will happen to her. We’ll bring her home safely.”
Rachael knew how empty Ben’s promise was. He couldn’t guarantee they would get Claire back unharmed because he couldn’t guarantee his father would take Ernesta back. How could he? She was a murderer. How could he allow things to go back to the way they used to be?
“What do you think she wants?” the Marquess of Sheffield asked. “Surely not to come back? Surely she knows it’s too late for that?”
“She doesn’t want to return,” Mack Wallace interrupted. It was the first time he’d spoken since he’d arrived. All eyes turned to him.
“She knows it’s impossible for her to come back. She won’t trust His Grace with her freedom now that he knows what she’s done.
“Then what does she want?” Ben asked.
“Everything,” the Duke of Townsend answered. “She’ll want everything.”
