And yet, a small voice whispered, for all his icy calm, Travis had been unable to disguise the bleakness in his eyes as he all but admitted his culpability. Awareness stabbed her with a blade honed to keenness. For some reason, he wanted her to believe the worst of him.
She slid off the bed and paced to the window. Something in Ogden’s words, and in Travis’s replies, did not ring true. It almost seemed as if Travis used Ogden’s damning exposition as an excuse to avoid speaking the real truth.
Her breath fogged the window and she wiped the mist away. What did he have to gain by making so damning an admission if it was false? Her stomach plummeted. Was she being naïve? He’d made it pretty plain he wanted to marry her off to Deveril. Was he taking his revenge for ruining his plans for Cassandra? Well, she certainly wasn’t going to meekly let him hand her over to his drunken friend like a cast-off coat.
He could keep his money and his friend and she wished him joy with his new woman in Italy. She needed no one’s help to make her own way in the world.
The view of the square blurred, but it was not mist obscuring the glass this time. She dashed her hand across her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool pane. Fool. No doubt he’d be too busy enjoying himself to even notice she’d gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Today?” Julia stared at Victoria in disbelief.
Victoria sipped her tea. “Yes.”
“How can you possibly expect me to come up with something suitable in a few hours?”
Expect was too strong a word. Victoria slumped against the blue-striped sofa in the Lady Garforth’s drawing room. She gazed into Julia’s worried face. “More a forlorn hope, actually.”
Apple-green silk skirts rustling softly, Julia got up from behind the tea tray and came around to sit beside Victoria. “Why not wait a day or two? I’m sure I can find something better by then.”
“Better?”
“Dash it, Victoria. Mother mentioned one situation this morning as something she would not wish on anyone. The woman is a veritable tartar.”
Victoria grasped Julia’s hand. “I’ll take it. Maria is pressing me to marry Deveril and I cannot live with a man who drinks every time he has a problem. It’s what my father did and what Michael did. I won’t go through it with a husband.”
A strained expression passed across Julia’s face. “Deveril?”
“Yes.” She grimaced. “Travis put the idea in Maria’s head and she won’t think of anything else.”
Julia dropped her gaze to their joined hands. “I see.”
Victoria’s heart sank. If Julia agreed with Travis, she’d lose her only ally. “I’m afraid if I stay, they will wear me down. I’ve already spent too long enjoying a life of luxury. It’s getting harder all the time to face the prospect of earning a living.”
Julia winced. “You are positive it is what you want?”
“You know it is.”
Her hair a fiery halo against the light from the window, Julia stood, her movements jerky. “Wait here. I’ll get the address.”
While she waited, Victoria paced the elegant drawing room. She appreciated Julia’s concern, but saw no other choice. Any delay and she would once more be swept along by the irresistible force that was Travis.
She’d watched him from her bedroom window first thing this morning. Mounted on his stallion, his stern features satanic in the sharp, early sunlight, his control of the skittish stallion had emphasized his strength of will. He’d glanced up at her window. For a brief instant, their gazes had clashed. Strangely it had felt like a meeting of two lost souls. The feeling had gone as swiftly as it had arrived. Certainly nothing in his face or demeanor indicated he’d seen her at all as he rode away.
At breakfast, Benton announced that earl had left for St. John’s Hall prior to a visit to Europe and he wasn’t expected to return for months.
The hollow sensation in her chest was not caused by the news of his departure. Certainly not that. It was worry about her future. The idea that having issued an edict, he expected her to follow his orders without demure.
He clearly underestimated her strength of will. By leaving he had presented the perfect opportunity to go her own way and marriage to his friend was out of the question.
In anticipation of Julia’s return, she pasted a bright smile on her lips. The future awaited, a future she'd choose.
Moments later, a wooden-faced Julia returned and held out a slip of paper. “This is the address.”
“Thank you.” Victoria hugged her friend’s unyielding form. “Please don’t worry about me, Ju. I’ll do just fine.”
Julia’s bitter laugh struck a sour chord. “I’m sure you will.” Then, as if she regretted her brusqueness, she hesitated. “Do you need money?”
“No. I have a little. Enough to get me to—” Victoria glanced at the paper in her hand “—Selwick in Shropshire. Well, that’s certainly far enough away. Oh, Ju, I will miss you. I can’t thank you enough.”
Julia made a face and threw her arms around Victoria. “Take care of yourself. Write to me when you can.”
Unable to speak around her threatening tears, Victoria nodded. She doubted she would ever see her friend again. They would move in very different circles from now on.
She picked up her reticule, collected her hat and coat from the stolid Garforth butler and made her way out to the waiting carriage. All she had to do now was pack a small bag and slip out of Travis Place unnoticed.
“He’s doing better every day, my lord,” the St. John’s Hall stable master said from his perch on the top rail of the paddock fence.
In the center of the training paddock, Simon nodded in satisfaction. Diablo’s colt, his coat black like his sire’s, had improved by leaps and bounds these past few days. Holding the leading string taut and firm, Simon watched the yearling circle around him.
A fine colt, with an even gait and long legs, he had Diablo’s strength and the elegant lines of his mother’s Arabian bloodlines. Simon had named him Devil’s Spawn and he had the makings of a champion.
Simon wiped at the sweat running into his eyes on his shirtsleeve. After a cloudy start, the day had turned out hot and he’d been putting the young horse through his paces for more than an hour. Nothing like physical labor to clear the mind and tire the body. Unfortunately, exercise didn’t do anything thaw the frozen lump in his chest.
“Someone’s coming, my lord,” the stable master said.
Strange. Simon glanced up. Everyone thought he was in Italy.
“It’s the Marquess of Deveril, my lord.”
Dev? Unease stirred in his gut. Simon brought the colt to a stand. “Very well. That’s enough for today.” He threw the rein to the other man, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket then wiped his face and hands.
He vaulted the paddock fence as Deveril drew his horse alongside. Simon ran a hand down the chestnut’s sweating, foam-flecked neck. “Still riding this carthorse, I see. What brings you here? I thought you agreed to keep an eye on Miss Yelverton.”
Dev dismounted and one of the men ran forward to take the horse. “Thor is nothing like a carthorse. I need a big animal. Your lightweight racehorse would collapse under me in less than an hour.”
Dev’s red-rimmed eyes had a haunted quality. A rough stubble of fair beard shadowed his cheeks and chin. As usual, he appeared to need a drink to steady his nerves.
Panic slithered in Simon’s gut. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Miss Yelverton?”
“Bloody hell. How did you know?”
How? Nothing about Victoria escaped his attention. He glared at Deveril. “For God’s sake, tell me what is wrong.”
“She’s gone.”
The word roused his ire to a venomous rage. “Gone? Gone where?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
Unreasoning anger darkened his mind. Confident he’d left her protected in London, Simon had come here seeking a shred of peace. Dev had let him down again. “Damn you. You are a u
seless drunken idiot. I should have known better than to leave her in your care.”
Dev put up a hand. “Devil take it, Simon. Cut me some line. She disappeared along with one the men I had watching her. To find her, I need to ask you some questions.”
Excuses didn’t wash. The man had let her slip through his fingers. Simon curled his lip. “Don’t waste my time. I’ll return to London and sort out your mess myself.”
Dev sagged against the rail. “Simon, I’ve ridden for hours to get here, the least you could do is offer me some refreshment and hear what I have to say.”
Simon nodded grimly. The sot would answer his questions while they prepared his carriage. He gave the order to his head groom then led the way across the gravel courtyard to the side door. A scullery maid staggered out with a bucket of water and called greeting to a stable boy polishing a pile of tack. The smell of cooking announced the preparation of the evening meal.
Simon had always liked the business side of the house, its disorderly activity a stark contrast to its noble front. It reminded Simon of the human condition, a bland outer facade hiding the inner turmoil of the guts and the heart of the dwelling.
Today he did not pause in his stride. He swiftly ushered Dev into the small room at the back of the house he used for a study. He never set foot in the rooms his father had used.
Dev lowered his bulk into a padded armchair, a moth-eaten remnant from Simon’s grandfather’s days. Simon perched on the corner of his battle-scarred schoolroom desk, a relic of abuse by countless generations of young St. Johns.
“Brandy?” Simon asked.
Deveril stared at the bottle in Simon’s hand. Need licked at his expression. “No.”
“Something else?”
“Tea.” Deveril sounded as if he had swallowed grit.
If the man was battling his demon, Simon wasn’t about to comment. He didn’t actually care. He rang the bell and the footman appeared within moments to take the request.
“Out with it,” Simon said the moment they were alone.
“I haven’t seen Miss Yelverton since the night we went to the theater. You already know she cried off from Vauxhall. I was busy looking for your scar-faced attacker, so I was glad she refused my escort.”
“And?”
“And I left a friend of mine watching the house. I also told your sharp-witted footman, Wilson, my man was there, so he wouldn’t get suspicious while I spent my time visiting every tavern in the city looking for our villain.”
“No wonder you’re too sick for a brandy,” Simon said, unable to contain his contempt.
Dev winced. “I swear, I haven’t touched a drop since your carriage was held up.” He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his golden head bowed. “You could all have been killed and I would never have forgiven myself. I’m off it for good.”
Simon got to his feet. “Until next time.” He was finished with Dev’s self-absorption. Right now, Victoria could be in terrible danger. Bile rose to choke him.
“Jesus, Simon. You’re a hard bastard. You need my help.”
Leashing his desire to hurt someone—anyone—Simon exhaled, burying his anger deep, nurturing it for when it would serve his purpose. He’d give Deveril one last chance. Only one.
“Very well. I’m listening.”
Dev blew out a breath. “I learned the name of the fellow we are seeking. Quigley. But when I got back to my lodgings last night, a note awaited me from your cousin. Miss Yelverton left yesterday afternoon without a word. My man and Wilson are also missing.”
Simon swore savagely. Had someone taken Victoria to get back at him? He slammed his fist on the desk. “Damnation! I never should have left.” He glared at Dev. “I thought you could at least handle a simple task like guarding a woman.”
“Damn it, Simon. We assumed they wanted you, not Victoria.”
Once more, Simon reined in his anger. “You’re right. I thought I’d flush them out by coming here alone.”
“I guessed as much. I have a man here watching you, too.”
Simon ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. A man hanging about here probably frightened them off and sent them Victoria’s way. Either that or they are completely incompetent.”
Dev narrowed his eyes. “They might not be under my command anymore, but I would trust them with my life and the life of any friend of mine.”
At the footman’s knock, Simon got up and let him in, waiting in silence until he placed a silver tray with a pot of tea and two cups on the sideboard. Simon handed him the brandy decanter. “Put this in the library, please.” He might as well remove the temptation.
Dev got up and poured the tea.
Simon slouched against the desk. “Devil take it. What the hell do we do now?”
“Did Miss Yelverton have a reason to leave Travis Place?”
Simon bristled then caught Deveril’s shrewd gaze. Several good reasons for Victoria wishing to leave occurred to Simon. “She never wanted to be there in the first place.”
“If she left of her own free will, there may be nothing to worry about. My man followed her here to St John’s Hall four nights ago and reported back to me when she arrived back inreturned to Town. He’s probably following her now and will report in when she reaches her destination. Here, take your tea.”
The bone-china cup and saucer seemed doll-house-size in the large man’s hand. Simon took it mechanically. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
Dev sipped at his tea. “Any idea where she might have gone?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared without saying anything. She must have gone to Ogden. His gut twisted. He clenched his jaw. Better she was with Ogden than dead or hurt, he supposed. A little better. He took a deep breath.
Dev gave him a penetrating stare. “Strange she didn’t leave a note?”
“Perhaps she forgot. One thing is certain, she didn’t go to Harrogate.”
“Harrogate?” Wheels turned behind Dev’s questioning expression.
“She has an aunt there. She definitely wouldn’t go there.”
“Exceedingly helpful, that. One place we can cross off the list.”
Simon stared at the cup and saucer in his hand and took a mouthful. Disgusting pap. He put the cup on the desk. “I don’t have a clue where she would have gone.”
“The day before she disappeared, she visited the Garforth’s’ townhouse. Had tea with Lady Ju.”
“Lady Julia.” Simon rubbed his stubble-rough chin. A surge of hope stopped his breath as he recalled the wicked gleam in Julia’s eye when she sauntered out of Victoria’s bedroom. “Now that is interesting. Those two are as thick as thieves. I’ll bet a pony Lady Julia is involved somehow.” Simon leaped to his feet and strode to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To speak to Lady Ju.”
“I’d like a word with the man I left here first, if you don’t mind.”
“The sooner I have words with Lady Julia, the sooner I believe we will know Miss Yelverton’s whereabouts.”
“It won’t take long.” Deveril gave him a sly grin. “Ring the bell for the footman who brought the tea. He’s probably waiting right outside.”
The young man appeared the instant Simon dragged on the bell rope. Of average height and build, brownish hair and sort of brown eyes, he was most unremarkable. He paused in the doorway.
“It’s all right, James, his lordship knows,” Deveril said. “Have you learned anything while you’ve been here?”
Baffled, Simon shook his head. How could he not have realized Dev had planted this man inside his house? Because he’d been too busy trying not to think at all.
“I saw your man,” James said. “He drinks at the Bell and Cat. Came in two nights ago. Scar over his right eye, burly, balding with over long, brown hair. He’s the Marquess of Northdown’s gamekeeper.”
Ogden’s father. Simon cursed.
“Aye,” James agreed. “Seems Quigley is away from the estate quite a bit. Ofte
n accompanies Viscount Ogden on his travels. At the moment, the viscount has taken up residence at Du Plessy House. A repairing lease the servants say.”
“Pockets to let again, no doubt,” Simon muttered.
If Ogden was still here, he couldn’t be responsible for Victoria’s disappearance. Relief rushed though him. “Actually, Ogden arrived the same day Victoria was here,” Simon said. “Seems he and this Quigley have nothing to do with her disappearance.”
“There were at least five men at the hold up,” Dev pointed out. “Anything else, James?”
“Not really, my lord. Quigley had a couple of tankards with me and left the inn around midnight. Asked questions about the doings of his lordship here.” He gestured at Simon. “Asking who was at the Hall. That kind of thing. I followed him to a small cottage on the Du Plessy estate then returned here. He didn’t show up at the Bell last night.”
Simon exchanged a glance with Dev. Quigley might be involved then.
“Thank you, James.” Dev said. “You can head back to London now.”
“Right, Major.” The young man cut short a salute and grinned sheepishly.
“Not major any more, James. If you don’t mind.”
“Yes, my lord. Sorry.”
“Please continue to keep an eye on his lordship, until further notice.”
“Not necessary,” Simon protested. “What’s next?”
“Follow up on Quigley.”
“Then take James with you. I should be safe enough calling on Lady Ju.”
Dev nodded. “Very well. But meet me afterwards, at the club. You might want to enlist Garforth’s help when you interview the lady.”
“Ju’s brother? He might not take kindly to me questioning his sister.”
“He won’t mind if you tell him the full story.”
Dev set his cup and saucer on the tray. Despite his seedy appearance, the man had an air of purposefulness. He seemed more like the man Simon had grown to respect when he first met him, the man as he had been, before he ran aground on Genevieve Longbourne’s rocky shore.
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