by Laura Beers
“What about the other conspirators?”
“You need not concern yourself with them.”
“Why not?”
Morton walked over to the door. “It matters not,” he remarked. “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”
Baldwin studied Morton. “What is it that you are not telling me?”
“Get a good night’s sleep and I will be in touch,” Morton said dismissively as he opened the door.
After Morton closed the door, Baldwin tossed the bread down and wiped the crumbs off his hands. He would wait for a moment before traveling to Hawthorne House for the rest of the evening. He needed a good soak and a proper meal.
Chapter Twelve
The following morning, Baldwin walked purposefully along the pavement as he covered the short distance to Miss Dowding’s townhouse. He found that he needed to reassure himself that she was safe after the staged abduction, even though Oliver had assured him that she was. But for some inexplicable reason that didn’t ease his mind. He wanted to see Miss Dowding for himself.
Unexpectedly, Corbyn appeared by his side, matching his stride. “I received your missive last night.”
Baldwin glanced over at him in surprise. “Where did you come from?”
Corbyn tsked. “I had correctly assumed you would be on your way to visit Miss Dowding this morning, so I just waited for the chance to speak to you.”
“Why would you have assumed that?”
“Call it a hunch,” Corbyn remarked.
Baldwin tipped his head politely at a gentleman passing him on the street before saying, “I can’t help but think that Morton believes me to be expendable.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He keeps promising to give me a new life in the Americas, but I believe that to be an empty promise.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time that someone used a scapegoat for their scheme.”
Baldwin nodded. “Regardless, I intend to see this through and stop their plan before it comes to fruition.”
“Do you have any leads on where Marie is?”
“Not at this time.”
Corbyn kept his gaze straight ahead as he remarked, “Until we get more information, I will hold off on warning Lord Liverpool, Lord Sidmouth, and Lord Desmond of the impending threat.”
“I think that is wise,” Baldwin agreed. “Furthermore, if what Morton said was true last night, then we need to start an investigation into Lord Desmond.”
“I agree, and I will assign an agent to the case.”
With a side glance at his friend, Baldwin remarked, “Thank you for your assistance yesterday at the pub.”
“You need not thank me,” Corbyn said. “I met a new group of friends.”
“You did?”
Corbyn chuckled. “They were all deeply in their cups, but they were a jovial group of men.”
“Did you discover why the blasted Runners took so long to raid the pub?”
“No, but I expected as much from them,” Corbyn muttered. “You can’t trust a Runner with even the simplest task.”
As they approached Miss Dowding’s townhouse, Baldwin reached up and adjusted his white cravat. “I did notice that the morning newspaper reported their heroics in rescuing those missing girls.”
“That should please the Bow Street magistrate.”
“I should hope so.”
Baldwin stopped outside of the black iron fence that surrounded the townhouse. “Would you care to call upon Miss Dowding with me?”
“Not in the least,” Corbyn said as he continued walking down the pavement.
Chuckling, Baldwin opened the gate and walked up to the door. He knocked on it and took a step back.
The door was opened, and the butler politely smiled at him. “Good morning, Lord Hawthorne,” he greeted, opening the door wide. “Please come in.”
“Is Miss Dowding available for callers this morning?”
The butler closed the door. “I shall inquire, milord.”
Baldwin watched as the butler walked across the entry hall and stepped into a side room. He turned his attention towards the blue wallpaper and ornate woodwork that ran the length of the hall.
The clip of the butler’s heel on the tile alerted Baldwin to his return. Stopping in front of him, the butler revealed, “I apologize, but Miss Dowding is not available for callers at the moment.”
“Will you kindly inform Miss Dowding that I will not leave until I have the opportunity to speak to her?” Baldwin pressed, not deterred by her rejection.
The butler’s face remained expressionless as he replied, “Yes, milord.”
Baldwin watched the butler walk across the entry hall again and disappear into the same room. After a moment, he reemerged and approached.
“Miss Dowding will see you. Please follow me to the drawing room.”
After Baldwin stepped into the drawing room, he walked over to the mantel that sat over the fireplace and admired the vases on display.
It was a long moment later when Miss Dowding stepped into the room, wearing a white gown with a green sash tied around her waist.
“Good morning, Lord Hawthorne,” she said, her words uncharacteristically soft.
He turned to face her, and he was surprised to see that she appeared tense. “Good morning, Miss Dowding,” he greeted. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“I’m afraid you left me very little choice in the matter.”
“That may be true, but I wanted to see how you are faring after yesterday’s ordeal.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “As you can see, I am well.”
“Are you?”
Her smile dimmed. “Why do you ask?”
“Pardon me, but I can’t help but notice that you seem rather out of sorts.”
Miss Dowding walked over to the settee and placed her hands on the back, creating more distance between them. She refused to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid yesterday was rather taxing, and I will need time to recover,” she said.
Liar.
Why is Miss Dowding lying to me, he wondered. He decided to pose another question. “Was Miss Hardy amongst the missing girls?”
She shook her head. “She was not.”
“Then I will keep searching for her.”
“I appreciate that,” Miss Dowding responded as she played with the fringe of a pillow.
Baldwin frowned as he tried to make sense of Miss Dowding’s odd behavior. “My brother informed me that he escorted you home last night,” he attempted.
“That he did,” Miss Dowding confirmed as she continued to avert her gaze from his. “I was most appreciative of that.”
Taking a step closer to her, he was astonished when she took a step back and a panicked look came to her face.
What in the blazes?
“Miss Dowding,” he started, “I must pose the question, were you harmed in any way yesterday?”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “I was not.”
“Then I must have done something to upset you,” he prodded gently. “Whatever it is, I am truly sorry.”
Baldwin could see the indecisiveness in Miss Dowding’s expression as she watched him. Finally, she spoke in a timid voice. “I thought you had deceived me.”
“Pardon?”
Miss Dowding remained stiff as she explained, “You informed me that the Bow Street Runners were going to rescue us right away, but it was hours before they finally saved us.”
“I am not entirely sure why the Runners were delayed, but—”
She spoke over him. “My hands were bound tightly, and my wrists are still reddened. I had to put powder on them this morning to hide the marks.”
“Again, I am sorry—”
“You did not prepare me adequately for being abducted.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh. “That is generally what happens when someone is abducted.”
Coming around the settee, she declared, “This is no laughing matter.”
>
Baldwin saw the seriousness on her face, and he realized that he was being rather unfair to discount her feelings. “I’m sorry for being insensitive,” he attempted.
Miss Dowding stopped in front of him, her eyes searching his. “And I watched as your eyes grew cold.”
He furrowed his brows. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“When you spoke to that man in the pub, I watched your demeanor change,” she explained. “It was as if you became a whole different person.”
Baldwin sighed. “I must apologize for that—”
She cut him off. “No more apologizing,” she declared. “I was in that room for hours and I began to lose hope that I would ever be saved. I saw the other girls give me looks of pity as I tried to convince them that the Runners were coming to save us.”
“The Runners were late, but you were in no real danger,” he assured her.
Her eyes grew fiery. “It certainly felt like I was.”
Baldwin put his hand up, and Miss Dowding flinched. He stared at her in bewilderment. “Did you think I was going to hit you?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to think,” she replied, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. “I can’t seem to determine who you truly are anymore.”
“I am the same man that you knew before the abduction.”
“You aren’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “I became frightened of you in that room in the pub.”
“Please don’t say that,” he murmured.
“How is it that you can be such vastly different versions of yourself?”
“I’m afraid I cannot say.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” she asked defiantly.
Baldwin ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t even know what you are asking me to confess,” he said.
“That may be true, but I can’t seem to come to terms with what I saw in that room,” she said. “Your cold eyes haunted me every time I closed my eyes last night.”
“I know what you saw in that room was confusing, but that is not a reflection of who I truly am,” he attempted.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, “Why are you even associating with those types of people?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“You are a marquess and should be above reproach. It looks suspect that you associate with such ruffians—”
He cut her off. “I am well aware of my responsibilities, and I don’t need you to lecture me on it.”
“Well, someone needs to.”
Baldwin shook his head. “You know not what you are speaking of.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand the depravities of men, my dear,” he mocked.
Madalene tensed at his remark, but she didn’t back down. “I believe I experienced a taste of it yesterday when I was abducted by you.”
Taking a step closer, he said, “Need I remind you that you willingly allowed yourself to be abducted in an attempt to save your friend?”
Madalene tilted her head to look up at him. “That is true, but—”
“Perhaps I misjudged you,” he stated, speaking over her.
“I am asking myself if I have misjudged you,” she declared.
Being this close to Miss Dowding, Baldwin had a sudden urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her until she came to her senses, which was ludicrous. The last thing he wanted to do was complicate his situation with Miss Dowding by kissing her.
Finding strength deep inside himself, Baldwin stepped back and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I am late for a meeting at the House of Lords.”
As he brushed past her, Miss Dowding spoke up. “Out of curiosity, are you voting in favor of Lord Desmond’s bill?”
“I am not.”
She frowned, appearing displeased by his response. “Are you not in favor of additional workhouses in the rookeries?”
“I am, but I do not believe that the Home Office should be responsible for overseeing the workhouses.”
“But the morning newspapers say—”
He cut her off. “I’m afraid I don’t have the energy or the right mindset to continue debating with you, Miss Dowding,” he said. “But you should be careful not to believe everything you read in the newspapers.”
“I suppose you make a good point,” she replied, albeit reluctantly.
“Good day, Miss Dowding.”
She tipped her head politely. “Good day, Lord Hawthorne.”
Baldwin continued to watch her for a moment before he departed from the room. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to her, but he found that Miss Dowding caused him to lose all rational thought. Something he hadn’t thought was possible.
Blasted woman!
Miss Dowding was proving to be a distraction, and he didn’t need any more distractions in his life.
“Will you see that coach is brought out front?” Madalene asked Graham as she put her gloves on.
“Yes, Miss,” Graham replied as he departed from the entry hall.
The butler had barely stepped out of the room when she heard her companion ask, “May I ask where you are going?”
Madalene turned around to face Mrs. Foster, who was descending the stairs. “I am going to call on Lady Jane.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
“No, I will be fine going alone.”
Mrs. Foster came to stand in front of her. “Do you think that is a good idea?”
“Why do you ask?”
With a pointed look, Mrs. Foster replied, “You haven’t seemed to be yourself since you came back from your extremely long carriage ride with Lord Hawthorne yesterday.”
“It was rather long, wasn’t it?”
Mrs. Foster didn’t appear fooled by her response. “You are keeping secrets from me again, my dear, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.”
“Lord Hawthorne and I had much to discuss, and it took longer than we anticipated,” she attempted.
“It appears that you and Lord Hawthorne are growing closer to one another.”
Madalene huffed. “Heavens, no. We are merely acquaintances.”
“I daresay that you are more than acquaintances if he is taking you on carriage rides through Hyde Park.”
“Trust me,” she started, “the more I learn about Lord Hawthorne, the more I realize that he is an insufferable man.”
Mrs. Foster clasped her hands in front of her. “Pray tell, why do you keep spending time with him if he is so ‘insufferable’?”
“If you recall, he offered to help find Edith.”
“I do, but he hasn’t been able to locate her yet.”
“That is true,” Madalene admitted, “but neither have the constable or the Bow Street Runner.”
Mrs. Foster stepped forward and tucked a wisp of Madalene’s brown hair behind her ear. “I just want you to be careful around men who use flowery words and offer promises they don’t intend to keep.”
“Lord Hawthorne isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t he?” her companion asked, the concern evident in her voice. “He keeps promising to find Edith, but what can a marquess truly do?”
Graham stepped back into the room. “The coach is waiting for you out front, Miss,” he announced, then approached the door and opened it.
Mrs. Foster placed a hand on her shoulder. “Just think about what I have said.”
“You know I always do,” Madalene replied before heading out the door.
After she was situated in the coach, Madalene rubbed her reddened wrists. They still continued to hurt, despite the lotion that she put on them when the powder had failed to help.
Her thoughts strayed back to earlier in the day when Lord Hawthorne had come to call. She recalled the hurt that was on his face when she flinched. She hadn’t thought he was going to hit her, but she had simply reacted. Frankly, she wasn’t entirely sure what Lord Hawthorne was capable of. All she knew was that he was so much more than he let on.
Which one is the real Lord Hawthorne, she wondered. The one who was starting to occupy her thoughts during the day, or the cold, unfeeling man from the pub who haunted her dreams at night? She wanted to believe the best of him, but she refused to be fooled.
The coach came to a stop in front of Hawthorne House, and the coach dipped as the footman stepped off his perch. He put the step down and then assisted Madalene out of the coach.
She approached the door and knocked. A moment later, it was opened by the butler, who had a kind smile on his lips. “Good afternoon, Miss Dowding,” he greeted, opening the door wide. “Lady Jane has been expecting you and is in the drawing room.”
As Madalene stepped into the entry hall, she asked, “Is Lord Hawthorne home?”
“He is not.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “That is wonderful news.”
The butler lifted his brow. “Miss?”
Realizing her blunder, Madalene turned and headed towards the drawing room. She stepped into the room, then closed the door behind her.
Jane gave her a curious look as she sat at the writing desk. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” Madalene replied honestly.
Placing the quill down, Jane shifted in her chair to face Madalene. “Then you must tell me what is going on.”
Madalene started pacing the small room. “Your brother is…” Her voice trailed off.
“Vexing!” Jane exclaimed. “Irritating!”
“Yes, to both of those things, but he is also…” Her voice stopped. Why couldn’t she think of the right word to describe Lord Hawthorne?
“Bothersome?” Jane attempted.
“Yes, that, too. But I am thinking of a specific word.”
Jane smiled mischievously. “I like this game,” she said. “What about devil’s spawn?”
“No, nothing that harsh.”
“I know,” Jane declared, her voice rising in excitement. “My brother is a nincompoop!”
