Louisa fell into a settee. “But you do know where she is?”
“I have a good idea.”
“That’s not the same as knowing, is it?”
Willie took her seat at the small table in the front of the room. There she could look out the window and keep a watchful eye on the carriage. She hated to think he’d leave her, but wouldn’t put it past him. After all, he had a history of disappearing when times were rough.
“I have good reason to believe she’s at an estate in the north.” There, that was honest enough to help ease her conscience, but ambiguous enough to not incite her aunt’s ire.
“An estate in the north? Why we don’t know anyone north of Derby. Who is she with?”
“A friend,” she answered cautiously. “There’s no reason to suspect any sort of scandalous behavior, so don’t you worry any longer. I’ll take care of everything.”
Her aunt’s brow furrowed like a grey caterpillar stretching above her censorious stare. “You’re hiding something.”
“I’ll get her home.” Wilhelmina’s glance darted out the window. The carriage was still there. “I promise to make this right.”
“But who’s estate? With what friend? Why did she leave without telling anyone? If she was just taking a trip to the country then why ever didn’t she tell us?”
“All good questions that rightfully deserve equally good answers. But, I must ask you to trust me and give me just a little bit of time to get it all sorted out.”
Louisa stood up and hobbled toward the window. “Wilhelmina, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” Wilhelmina lied, her aunt’s line of questioning having quite the ill-effect on her confidence. “I have everything under control. Please don’t worry yourself. Your poor heart can’t handle it.” She already carried a tremendous amount of guilt for causing her aunt’s poor health in the first place, she couldn’t possibly handle the weight of her death on her shoulders as well.
Louisa peeled the heavy velvet curtain back and peered outside. She then abruptly swiped the curtain back into place and started walking toward the doorway.
“Winston, please gather two of our largest footmen and come see me straight away!” she yelled, down the hall, quite possibly the most improper thing her great aunt had ever done in her life. Aside from shooting George, of course.
Willie stood. “I can explain…”
“Really?” Louisa whirled around, her face flushed from exertion. “How dare you bring him to my place of residence? Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t recognize his crest on the side of his carriage? After all he’s done to this family?”
“Well, I had hoped.”
None to amused, her aunt stood, arms akimbo. “What is he doing here?”
“It’s a bit complicated. If you’d sit down, then perhaps I can explain it a bit better and what are those?” Wilhelmina pointed to the doorway, where Winston, her aunt’s butler of at least half a century, entered the room, flanked by two large, formidable footmen.
“Where did they come from?” Willie asked, having never seen them in her aunt’s employ before.
Louisa lowered herself back into the settee, dramatically draping her arm across her forehead. “I picked them up upon my return to London. I’m not as young as I used to be and with no husband to speak of and only an aging butler to protect me, I thought it would be nice to have a couple strapping young men around to help keep me safe. No offense, Winston.”
The older man, with thin gray hair and jowls resembling that of a bull dog’s, stepped forward and nodded his head. “None taken, my lady.”
Louisa nodded her approval. “Winston found these two from a boxing club somewhere in the city. I thought their particular skillset could someday prove quite useful in protecting my small brood. One never knows when they’re to be overtaken by highwaymen or other ruffians. Or in this particular case, a foul tempered marquess.”
Wilhelmina resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. “Of course. One can never be too sure of these Mayfair types.”
“You may mock me all you want. But just look at what happened to your sister. Had she my two footmen to have protected her, then none of this would have ever happened in the first place.”
“It’s not what you think,” Wilhelmina leaned into explain.
“Oh, it’s not?” Louisa shot up. She was surprisingly spry for her advanced age. “Because it looks an awful lot like Lord Petulance has struck again. This time selecting our Kitty as his prey. The louse! He probably thought you too old and was all too eager to try his hand with the younger version.”
Willie opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off. “That’s right. I read the gossip rags. That sorry excuse for a man is just as despicable as he always was. He’s nearly twice our Kitty’s age.”
Louisa turned to the men. “Would you be so kind as to bring me the gentleman in the carriage? I’d like to have a word with him.”
Willie didn’t try to stop them, knowing full well that she couldn’t. Hopefully, George had matured a bit from his younger days and wouldn’t put up much of a struggle…though her more base self wouldn’t mind seeing his cravat made a bit out of sorts. “I know what it looks like, but he’s not responsible,” she pleaded.
“Then why would you bring him here? Why would you ever speak to that man again? After everything he’s done? After he took everything from you?”
“Because he knows where she is,” Willie answered, taking a seat at the end of the settee.
“Then he did have something to do with it!”
“Just let me handle this.” This was her battle and she didn’t need Aunt Louisa to get her out of trouble again. She’d done quite enough of that already. “I promise, I’m only speaking to Lord Chesterton out of absolute necessity and just until I get Kitty back to London. Then, when it’s all been made right again, I’ll never have to see him again.”
Louisa spoke through her pinched expression. “You’ve proven yourself incapable of dealing with that man once before. I won’t let him ruin Kitty’s life like he did yours.”
Wilhelmina felt tears burn her eyes. “My life wasn’t ruined.” She didn’t need the memories, not now. “Did it turn out exactly as I’d planned – no, not at all. But it wasn’t ruined.” She’d struggled with that distinction for years, a wavering line between self-pity and acceptance. Still, she refused to render herself a lost cause due to one indiscretion.
“You almost died. Twice. Don’t you remember? I certainly haven’t forgotten.”
Willie shut her eyes tight. Her actions, her lapse in judgement, the entire ugly incident had acted as an earthquake, destroying all she’d worked to build and creating subsequent tremors that continued to cause damage for years after the initial impact.
The clamber of heavy footsteps from the entryway caught her attention, rescuing her before she fell too deep in the memory.
Chapter 5
George heard the knock at the carriage door and waited for his groomsman to open it.
Then came a second.
He leaned over and pushed the door open. A tall, lanky fellow – pale skin, thin, gray hair, and red-rimmed, gray eyes, greeted him with a thin-lipped smile. George marveled at just how closely he resembled a giant mouse, before noticing that the old man was flanked on either side by two considerably younger men, dressed like footman and built like walls.
He looked behind them and noticed his portly coachman standing over the crumpled figures of his two groomsmen, sprawled out upon the walkway. Not dead, hopefully, but obviously indisposed of at the moment. They must be Lady Whitehead’s new calling card.
“Greetings, my lord,” the old man greeted cheerfully. “Lady Whitehead has requested the presence of your company.”
George contemplated his options, which were considerably limited considering he had no alternate means of exiting the carriage, save for the door that was currently blocked by two fairly large, unsavory looking men. As an impetuous youth, he’d been fearless. It
never mattered if he was outnumbered, with enough drink he could take on any brood. But he was a different man now. He was too tired, too vane, too old, and too sober to come to blows with anything more than his mattress.
Having no choice, he simply smiled. “Let’s not keep her waiting, then.”
*
George watched the diminutive, old woman suddenly straighten and square her shoulders, the curvature of her crippled back suddenly made straight by sheer will and old hatred.
“Lady Whitehead. Pleasure to see you again.” He struggled free from the grasps of the giant men, then bowed deeply from the waist.
She returned his gesture with a slight nod. “Lord Chesterton, what a surprise. I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you.” Lady Whitehead walked toward him, her steps small but certain, her smile yellowed, but intact. She’d obviously weathered the years particularly well, considering she had celebrated more birthdays than he could ever hope to.
He supposed butting into other’s lives, causing havoc, and destroying people helped to keep one young.
George took her frail, spotted hand in his and planted a small kiss on the top. “I think we can both do without the pleasantries, don’t you Lady Whitehead? After all, you’ve never bothered to be pleasant before, why start now?”
She didn’t even blink. “Why don’t you join me for a drink?” she asked, her smile unwavering. “If I remember correctly, you were particularly fond of spirits. Shall I have my man bring us glasses or are you still partial to taking the entire bottle?”
Willie cleared her throat. “Though I’m sure you’d both like to catch up on things, perhaps we could do so at a later date? I’m afraid time is of the essence and we really must be going.”
“Wilhelmina, you couldn’t possibly leave now. Not when our guest has just arrived. We wouldn’t want to be rude.”
“Since when?” he asked through a forced smile.
“George!” Willie hissed. “Really, do show some respect.”
“He can’t help it,” Lady Whitehead sneered, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s just the kind of man he is.”
“This coming from the woman who found it perfectly acceptable to shoot me. I suppose that must be what you consider the epitome of good manners?” George turned his gaze from the old woman to Willie, who, after all these years, was still taking the side of her meddling aunt.
“I’m afraid we really must be leaving.” Willie started toward the door.
“Where is Katherine?” Lady Whitehead stepped up to him, her nose barely reaching the bottom of his breast bone. “I know you had something to do with it.”
George held his arms firmly at his side, determined not to pick up and relocate the nuisance despite the sudden inclination. He looked over at Willie, searching for direction. She must have sensed his distress, an uncanny skill she’d always possessed, usually to his detriment.
“Enough,” Willie snapped, stomping over and dragging the tiny woman back from him. “You,” she put a hand against his chest. “Sit over on that side of the room. And you…” She took her aunt by the elbow and led her to a nearby chair. “You stay here.”
George admired the display, ever impressed by her inherent ability to take control of any situation. She was always poised, able to handle herself with stoic grace, and others with a firm hand. She’d experienced such tragedy in her life, losing both her parents, and still he’d never seen her cry.
Until the day he had made her. It had been like watching an incredibly beautiful statue crumble before his eyes. After everything she’d been through, all it had taken was a few choice words from him to finally break her.
“I’ve had quite enough from the both of you,” Willie scolded. “We have a serious issue at hand and it won’t be made better by you two acting like fools. Leave the past in the past and for Kitty’s sake, let’s address the present problem.”
“Then tell me the truth,” Lady Whitehead jutted her chin, reminding him more of a child than the withered dowager she was.
He quickly scanned Willie’s face, hoping for some sort of indication as to what she was thinking. It wasn’t easy. She was a lovely woman, but she used that beauty as a mask, rarely revealing herself to anyone… but him. He couldn’t read her nearly as exactly as she could him, but he could sense when she was troubled. Even now, he knew she was holding back, and he knew why. It was Lady Whitehead who’d stepped in after her parent’s accident, helped to raise her and her sister, even though Katherine wasn’t even related by blood. She would never want to intentionally cause her distress, especially given their turbulent past.
“I believe Miss Marks has run away with my brother,” George declared. It wasn’t his place, but he couldn’t stand to watch Willie take the brunt of her aunt’s wrath…or disappointment.
Lady Whitehead clutched her hand to her chest. “Your brother?”
He nodded. “Yes. I can’t say for certain, but it looks that way. Henry’s been missing nearly as long as Miss Marks.”
She shook her head. “But how? They didn’t even know each other, I’m certain of it. I would know if she’d been consorting with a gentleman, let alone one related to the likes of you.”
“It appears as if they met shortly after we came to London,” Willie explained, stepping over to the side of George’s chair.
The gesture wasn’t lost on him. She was looking for his support. Willie wouldn’t have made such an effort had she not been desperate. She knew she couldn’t do it alone and was turning to him. Desperation or not, he was glad she did it. Suddenly, he wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, offer reassurance in whatever way he could. A simple touch, nothing more, nothing less.
“I only heard this morning. I’m as shocked as you are,” Willie continued. “A servant led me to Lord Chesterton. He honestly didn’t know Kitty was my sister. Why would he? We had different mothers, so our appearance is different enough and the name Marks is quite common. He had no reason to suspect Katherine was actually my Kitty.”
Lady Whitehead’s deportment began to falter. Her shoulders sunk and her chest deflated before his eyes. “I suppose he wouldn’t remember her. She was just a child then, no more than ten.”
“I want to help my brother just as badly as you want to help Miss Marks,” George reassured her. “I have reason to believe they might be in Chesterton. It’s located in a remote part of the country, near Scotland. We seldom use it, which is probably why it made an ideal location for them to run off to.”
Willie stepped forward. “We’ll need to depart soon if we hope to intervene before any permanent damage should occur.”
She didn’t need to paint the picture any clearer than that, they all clearly understood what the ramifications were.
“And,” she continued, her tone bright and deceivingly optimistic. “If we can do this quietly, then I’m quite confident we can avoid any type of scandal, and both Katherine and Lord Wainscott will be no worse off than they were yesterday.”
Lady Whitehead sunk down into her chair even further, her petite frame dwarfed by the massive arms and gothic detailing. “Our Kitty is at an estate near the Scottish border, within spitting distance of Gretna Greene, left to her own devices with a member of the opposite sex, who happens to be the younger brother of the man who nearly destroyed our family years ago. Exactly, which part of that particular narrative isn’t scandalous?”
The old woman had a point.
“I know how it looks, but if I can reach her…”
“If,” Lady Whitehead repeated, her voice small. “If you reach her.”
“When…” George stood up, in defense of Willie. “When we find her.” For all he disliked, even detested the woman, he couldn’t stand by and remain unaffected by her defeatist tone. After all, she wasn’t all evil. She had been the sole caregiver to Willie after the sudden death of her father and his wife, and for that he respected her. He’d even taken Willie’s half-sister in, despite not being a blood relation. When you got down to it, every egreg
ious thing she had done to him, she’d done for Willie. It was impossible to hate a person who’d staunchly defended the woman he loved, even if it had been to his detriment.
Willie stared up at him, her green eyes hopeful.
“Let’s go find your sister,” he said, meeting her gaze with fierce determination.
*
Willie looked away, breaking from the intensity of his stare. She knew it was a mistake to trust him, but she couldn’t tamp down the anticipation. “We will need to leave soon.” She nodded at the window where a small tree at the street was bowing in the wind. “The weather appears to be turning quite nasty.”
“Of course,” he answered, standing up.
“If it’s cold, Kitty will need her cape. I’d hate for her to catch a chill. Could you take it to her?” Louisa spoke softly, as if still trying to wrap her mind around the events that had just transpired.
Willie wanted to tell her aunt that catching a chill was the least of her sister’s problems at this point, but quickly bit her lip. She was powerless after all, offering her the only protection she could at this point.
“Of course.” She nodded. “I’ll get her cape and gather a small bag of my own. Can I trust you two to not kill each other while I’m gone?”
George cocked one eyebrow and stared in her aunt’s direction. “That depends. Is she armed?”
She quickly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You’ll have no issues from me. Just do what you must to see to Kitty’s safety.”
Willie walked briskly toward the stairs. Kitty’s room was the first one she came across, stationed directly at the top of the staircase. She opened the door and quickly scanned the furniture for her sister’s cape. She’d never been a tidy girl by any means and tended to keep most of her wardrobe haphazardly draped across her furniture, instead of properly hanging in her wardrobe.
Willie recognized the bright blue cape with the fox fur lining around the hood immediately. It was strewn across the chair by the fireplace, which pleased her not to have found it carelessly tossed on the floor like most of her other possessions. This was a particularly fine piece and her sister knew better than to be careless with something so expensive.
Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Page 3
