As Tristan rode home, he vowed to find alternative ways to deal with his anger. He was tired of allowing that emotion to rule his behavior.
Looking forward to seeing Grace and Matthew, he left his horse with a groom and entered the house. “Where is Lady Grace?”
The footman’s eyes grew wide. “I—I—”
“What?” An uneasy feeling coursed through Tristan, quickly eliminating the newly found patience he’d tried to cultivate.
“Her ladyship ordered a carriage immediately after you left. She and her son departed.” The footman watched him with a worried look. Or was that fear in his eyes?
“A carriage? Whatever for?”
“I believe they were going to the train station.”
Snarling, Tristan flung out his arm to lash at a vase on the foyer table, only to stop short, his breath tight in his chest. Breaking things wasn’t the answer. He muttered an oath and threw open the door, then ran back down the steps, headed for the stable.
Why would they have left without telling him of their plans? Without saying goodbye? He’d offered to take them to London as soon as they were ready.
If he didn’t catch them at the train station prior to leaving, he wouldn’t know how to find them in London. His inquiries as to who they were had gained him nothing. His steps slowed as he neared the stable.
Was that Grace’s intent? To be certain he didn’t know where they’d gone? The hurt that thought caused had him slowly turning back to the house.
Perhaps this was for the best. He was engaged, and he couldn’t offer her more than a casual acquaintance. If he’d been with Grace any longer, she’d be looking at him with fear, the same way everyone else did. That was something he never wanted to see.
A weight he now doubted he could shed returned to settle on his shoulders.
Damn, but he missed them already.
Chapter Five
“Against sturdy beggars the law was especially severe. On his first conviction, he was whipped, the second led to the slicing-off of his right ear, and if after that he was deaf to the law’s tender admonitions, sentence of death was executed on him.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Grace tightened her grip on both Matthew’s hand and the bag that held their few belongings as she gazed about, feeling completely overwhelmed. The crowded, noisy train station in London was nothing like the quiet, country one from which they’d departed. Families, businessmen, and working-class people all bumped elbows as they threaded their way through the chaos of arrivals and departures.
People hurried by quickly. Why were they all in such a rush? It seemed as if everyone was late for an engagement except her. This was a far cry from her arrival in London with her husband six years ago. They’d traveled in their coach in fine style and arrived at his home in Grosvenor Square where servants greeted them. Crowds were something she’d only seen from a distance during their brief stay in the city.
The day of travel had been tiring, showing her she’d yet to regain her strength. Her side ached, making holding the bag a challenge.
She searched for a hansom cab that might deliver them to her cousin’s flat, unable to quell her regret. Would it have been so terrible to accept Tristan’s offer to bring them to London? She shook her head. No matter how many times she’d turned it over in her mind, she hadn’t determined a way to travel with him but still keep their destination a secret. Somehow she was certain he wouldn’t think her staying at her cousin’s small flat was a good idea, let alone her intent to find employment.
Added to that were her increasing feelings for the handsome earl. Though she’d reminded herself again and again that he was engaged, there was no denying her attraction to Tristan, not to mention how fond Matthew had become of him. No good could come from her growing too dependent on anyone, including the earl. How could he possibly aid her? They couldn’t stay with him. Charles would find them if they went to the townhouse on Grosvenor Square.
No, this was the best course of action she could take.
Or was she allowing her fear for Matthew to overshadow her judgment?
She shook her head again. She’d made it this far and needed to continue with her plan.
Had he received the message she’d left? Though she hadn’t written what was truly in her heart, she’d wanted him to look beyond her words and understand how much the time at his home had meant to her and Matthew.
Continuing on this journey on her own would prove to herself that she was capable of raising her son, regardless of his title. In her few years of marriage, she’d lost her identity, no longer certain who she was or what she could do. Before truly embracing her future, she had to find herself. This journey would not only save Matthew but her as well.
The prospect was terrifying. Failure had dire stakes. Matthew was depending on her. She needed to keep him safe yet prepare him for his responsibilities.
But first, she needed to find a way to her cousin’s flat.
Someone bumped her bag, muttering a quick apology as they hurried past. For a brief moment, she envied them their purposeful rush. How she despised the uncertainty that had been her companion so often of late.
“Where do we go now, Mama?”
A glance down showed the worry clearly visible in her son’s eyes. No words to reassure him came to mind, possibly because she was as worried as he. She felt completely out of her element here. While certain they’d gotten off at the correct stop, she had no idea how far her cousin lived from here or where exactly they were. She wasn’t familiar enough with the city to recognize landmarks.
“We’ll find a hansom cab to take us to Molly’s. I have the address right here.” She retrieved a tattered piece of paper from her handbag. “I would imagine we’ll arrive before supper.” At least she hoped they would. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, and Matthew’s must be as well. “Let us ask where we can find a cab.”
With luck, she’d have enough money to pay for one. Otherwise, they had a long walk ahead of them.
One of the railroad employees directed her to the nearest stand, which wasn’t far but a queue of people already waited. Grace watched those ahead of her to see how to proceed. She’d never ridden in a hansom before, let alone hired one.
She successfully made her request, negotiated the price, and breathed a sigh of relief as they settled into the cab. Soon, the driver wound through a maze of streets and neighborhoods, the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves easing her nerves.
Matthew was enthralled at the sights, pointing out places and people alike. He seemed oblivious to the coal-filled air and general grime and stench of the city.
She couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. Yet her pleasure dimmed as the cab traveled into a neighborhood that was less than desirable. The soot-covered buildings, the narrow dirty streets, and the tattered look to the people walking past caused her worry to swell. Surely Molly and her family didn’t live in this neighborhood. The last letter she’d received from her cousin had been filled with news of how much she liked the city and how well her family was faring.
“Excuse me,” she called up to the driver. “Did we take a wrong turn?”
“No, ma’am. The building you wanted is just ahead.”
Molly hadn’t mentioned living in an area that was obviously so poverty stricken. Then again, she hadn’t realized Grace would be coming to visit.
Within a few short moments, the cab driver pulled the horse to a stop. “Here ye be.”
Matthew frowned at her. “Are you sure this is Cousin Molly’s? Which building is hers?”
The driver pointed to one of the three-story lodging houses nearby. “That’s the address ye gave me.”
A few of the windows boasted stained lace curtains but many were bare. The building—rather the entire neighborhood—looked bleak.
“Thank you.” Grace took Matthew’s hand and stepped down from the cab.
“Ye certain ye want to stay?” The driver hopped down and retrieved their b
ag. His gaze shifted from them to the dilapidated building. “Perhaps I should wait for ye?”
“No, thank you.” Grace said the words with more confidence than she felt. She had no idea where else they’d go if Molly wasn’t here, nor did she have money to pay for another ride. “We’ll be on our way.”
The driver nodded as he set their bag on the walkway but waited until she and Matthew entered the building to which he’d pointed.
A long dimly lit hall was before them. Based on Molly’s letters, Grace knew they lived on the second floor.
“Up we go,” she told Matthew with a forced smile as he looked about with a frown. They started up the stairs only to come upon a man sleeping on them, his form curled in on itself, his jacket collar flipped up. As they stepped around him, the distinct smell of spirits wafted toward them.
“Mama, why is he sleeping on the stairs?” Matthew’s attention locked on the disheveled man as he whispered the question.
“He must’ve been too tired to climb them.” While she might be forced to have a more honest conversation with her son as to people’s choices and circumstances, now was not the time.
She led Matthew past several doors on the second floor until she found the one she sought. With determination, she set down their bag and knocked.
“Off with you,” a woman’s voice called out from inside.
Grace shared a puzzled look with Matthew then knocked again.
The door flew open before she’d had a chance to lower her hand.
“I said go—” The woman paused mid-order to stare at the pair of them.
Grace studied the tired looking woman, searching for the young girl she hadn’t seen for years. But this grim, pale woman didn’t look anything like the dear cousin she remembered. “Molly?”
The woman’s eyes went wide. “Grace?”
With a relieved laugh, Grace nodded and leaned forward to give her a hug. The woman’s stiff form gave her pause.
“Whatever are you doing here, Grace?” Molly asked as she leaned back to stare at her then Matthew, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I am sorry I wasn’t able to let you know prior to this, but your last letter said that if we were ever in London, we should contact you.”
“That was over a year ago. Soon after your husband died.” Molly’s assessing brown gaze took in the bag at Grace’s side then looked behind them as if expecting to see someone else as well. “The two of you are here by yourselves?”
“Yes. It is rather a long story.” Grace paused, wondering if Molly intended to invite them in. Curiosity had her looking over Molly’s shoulder into her small home. What she saw sent her heart sinking. It appeared as though there was hardly enough room for Molly’s family, let alone two more. Sparse furnishings that had seen better days were set about the room. But the place was clean and tidy. The smell of frying onions filled the air. “We’ve interrupted your meal.”
“Not at all.” Molly looked at her again as though puzzled. “I’ve only just started cooking dinner.” She opened the door wider at last. “Where are my manners? Come in, please.”
Grace sent an encouraging look at Matthew, and he took several cautious steps inside. Two girls, miniatures of their mother, stood near the window, their play interrupted as they stared at her son.
“This must be Alice and Eva.” Grace smiled as she approached them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Molly hurried forward. “Girls, this is my cousin, Lady Chivington and her son, er—Viscount Chivington. You should curtsy. I should’ve curtsied.” She turned back to Grace with a dismayed expression.
“That isn’t necessary,” Grace began, all too aware that Molly’s circumstances were far worse than she’d expected.
“Of course it is.”
As Molly spoke to Matthew, Grace studied the flat. The room was small with peeling paper on the walls—paper thin walls—based on the sounds coming from beyond them.
Oh dear heavens. What had she done by taking Matthew from Witley Manor? Fright left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. Surely this arrangement would only be for a few days until she found employment. Matthew deserved a good life, and she was determined to give him one. She just needed a few days to get on her feet.
Molly shifted her attention to Grace, following her gaze. At first it looked as if she intended to apologize but then she sighed. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
Grace searched her mind for something kind she might say. “It’s very clean.”
Molly laughed, reminding Grace of the girl she’d once known and enjoyed spending time with. The sound dissolved some of the tension between them. “Thank you. What brings you to London?”
Reluctant to tell her as she could clearly see how much of a burden their presence would be, Grace hesitated.
“Is something amiss?” Molly frowned, reaching out a hand toward her.
With tears clogging her throat, Grace reminded herself she had no choice. She needed somewhere to stay until she could determine her next course of action. “I am terribly sorry to barge in on you unannounced, but I need help.”
Two days later, Tristan eased through the crowd at the opera in Covent Garden. He was supposed to meet Samantha here but he was behind schedule, having returned to London later than he’d planned.
He hadn’t been able to curb the restlessness that filled him since Grace and Matthew’s departure. He’d re-read her message more times than he cared to count, trying to determine any hidden meaning. The formality of the words played in his mind, as did the feminine curves of her writing.
Dear Tristan,
Thank you ever so much for your kindness and hospitality. Matthew and I have proceeded with our journey to London. Your offer to take us is much appreciated, but we have taken advantage of your generosity far too much already.
Thank you again,
Grace
Her departure was no doubt the only option given the circumstances, yet he couldn’t quite convince himself of that. He could only guess that she was acting out of fear rather than logic. Her fear for her son was clouding her thinking.
The problem was, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Was there any chance she felt the same attraction he had and therefore determined it would be best to leave?
He nodded at several acquaintances but didn’t bother to speak with them. The last thing he felt like doing was making conversation. Luckily for him, Samantha rarely required him to say anything.
He knew the true reason she’d agreed to marry him. It had been no secret that her uncle hoped she’d make a good match—in fact, needed her to do so. She’d come close to landing several other lords, but her sharp tongue had landed her in trouble. While speaking her mind, a lady might be thought of as unique and clever. But Samantha seemed compelled to blatantly point out flaws in others.
Tristan found it amusing, most of the time. Compared to the simpering debutantes who couldn’t put two words together when spoken to, Samantha had no problem doing so. At some point, he supposed he’d have to encourage her to curb her tongue before she truly offended someone, including him. But then again, she might need it to defend herself from him.
The thought was more disturbing than he cared to admit.
The performance was about to start as he slid into the seat beside her and her mother.
Samantha’s eyes narrowed as her gaze met his. “I’d almost given up on you.”
He could see indecision in her dark eyes as to how much she should complain over his tardiness. While he didn’t think she was so comfortable in their relationship that she was willing to risk his anger, neither was she the type to remain silent.
Part of him wanted to simply ignore her and focus on the performance of Faust. But he reminded himself that if he wanted their marriage to be pleasant, he needed to make an effort to be considerate.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think he was capable of anything more.
Memories of his time in the garden with Grace and Matthew came to m
ind. How odd that it hadn’t taken any effort on his part to be friendly with them—a first for him.
No doubt it had only been because he’d felt sorry for them and their situation.
He clenched his jaw, acknowledging that was a total lie.
“I was delayed leaving my country estate earlier today,” he offered at last. He leaned forward to greet her mother then settled back into his seat.
“It seems as if you should be able to plan better.”
Irritation filled him. “You can be certain my delay was for a valid reason.” While he’d selected her as he knew she’d withstand his temper, it didn’t mean he’d allow her to berate him in any way.
He felt her glare but as the curtain rose, he didn’t bother to look at her.
Faust was one of the few operas he enjoyed with its large chorus and elaborate sets. The performance was excellent as was the music. Even the ballet in the fifth act was enjoyable.
But when Samantha shifted in her seat for the third time, he leaned closer. “Is something amiss?”
She waved her fan before her face. “I’ve seen better performances. Perhaps we should leave at the intermission.”
“I am finding it enjoyable and would prefer to remain.” The selfishness of her request didn’t go unnoticed. Did she truly expect him and her mother to leave in the middle simply because she wanted them to?
She lifted her chin, a sure sign that she intended to argue. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of test as to how far he’d go to do her bidding.
Before she could respond, applause rippled through the crowd as the curtain closed.
“I believe Lady Tathering is attempting to gain your attention,” Tristan told Samantha.
That perked her up immediately. He offered his hand to assist her in rising and was surprised when she wound her arm through his and tugged him forward. Had he been forgiven so easily?
They greeted several others they knew. Tristan had the distinct impression that she was showing him off as though he were a prize stallion. He had to remind himself that he’d chosen her.
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 6
