My Elusive Countess

by Carolynn Carey

  He vaulted down, tossed the reins to his groom and bounded up the steps to the front door. Hammond appeared almost instantly, his expression grimmer than usual.

  “I wish to see Lady Willowvale,” Blackbourne said.

  “Lady Willowvale is not at home, my lord.”

  “Oh? Is Miss Thornton available then?”

  “I regret to inform his lordship that no one is at home.”

  Blackbourne was not surprised to discover that the ladies didn’t wish to see him. He hadn’t been overly polite to either of them the previous evening. Still, he was convinced his actions in the next few minutes would go far toward making amends for his previous behavior.

  He raised his brows and regarded Hammond with all the hauteur he could summon. “No one is at home? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “I do not presume to expect anything from you, my lord. I can only report the situation as it is.”

  Blast the man! He could at least act chastised. Blackbourne tried a different tack. “I appreciate your attitude, my good fellow, but I really need to see Lady Willowvale. May I come in and wait for her?”

  Hammond shook his head. “According to what I was told, Lady Willowvale and her companion will not be returning to London anytime soon.”

  Blackbourne regarded the butler closely. The man didn’t appear to be lying, but surely he was not telling the whole truth either. “What about Lady Willowvale’s guest? I had understood she was ill. Have they left her alone here?”

  “No, my lord. They took the guest with them in the coach.”

  “The coach? They left in the coach?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And where were they going?”

  “They did not share information about their destination with me, my lord. Now if you will excuse me?”

  Hammond stepped back and would have closed the door but Blackbourne’s hand shot out to hold it. “You won’t mind if I come in and look around for myself, I assume?”

  Hammond’s face flushed but he pulled the door open again. “As you wish, my lord.” He stepped to one side so Blackbourne could enter.

  The house was empty. He felt Amanda’s absence even before he located her bedchamber and determined that all her clothing had disappeared.

  Signs of haste were evident. A single glove lay crumpled forlornly in the corner of a bureau drawer. A pink silk rosebud that had once adorned the hem of one of Amanda’s ball gowns now rested under the edge of a bedside table as though its loss had not been noted. Half a cup of breakfast chocolate sat on the table under the window, waiting to be retrieved and taken below stairs by one of the maids.

  As Blackbourne looked around him, the acrid burn of guilt rose from his stomach into his throat. He was responsible for this. His actions had caused Amanda to run from him.

  But damned if he would allow himself to turn into his father. He’d find Amanda and beg her forgiveness. He’d make her understand that he would never have taken David away from her. Somehow he’d convince her that although he’d spoken out of remembered bitterness, he was capable of putting the past behind him and becoming a better man.

  Having reached that decision, he allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. Fortunately, he knew just where to find Amanda, so he’d give her a few days in hopes her anger with him would lessen, and then he’d follow her to Willow Place.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “A person is here to see you, my lord.” Dulaney stopped just inside the door of the library. His tone was as contemptuous as it had been the first time Blackbourne had hired the Bow Street runner to search for Amanda.

  Blackbourne pushed back his chair, stood and walked around his desk. “Show Sawyer in, Dulaney.”

  Truth be told, Blackbourne was no happier than his butler to have Sawyer working for him once more. He had never expected to call on the runner again because he’d been sure he’d be able to locate Amanda by himself this time.

  When he’d first discovered she had run from him, he’d been in no particular hurry to follow her. First of all, he’d wanted to allow her temper time to cool. Then, too, he’d felt sure she would head for the Willowvale estate.

  But when he’d traveled to Willow Place, he’d learned she wasn’t there. Not in the mansion. Not in the dower house. Not even in the old dower house.

  She had gone to the estate originally, of course. She’d stopped there long enough to collect David so she could take him with her. But apparently she’d told no one where she was going. Both the housekeeper and the butler swore she’d told them nothing of her plans and Blackbourne had no choice but to accept their word.

  Then he’d taken time to find Thomas Clappton, hoping the tutor had overheard something that would be of benefit in tracking Amanda. Unfortunately, Thomas was as baffled as Blackbourne, knowing only that the countess had arrived in haste, paid him an extra month of his salary and then had left within an hour of arriving.

  Sighing, Blackbourne leaned back against his desk while waiting for Dulaney to show the Bow Street runner in. He was well aware that by the time he’d given up on finding Amanda himself, her trail had grown cold.

  Even so, Sawyer had been pleased enough to undertake the task, no doubt because he recalled Blackbourne’s generosity the first time around. Unfortunately, up until this morning at least, the only thing he’d discovered was that she’d used a significant amount of money to bribe any innkeepers or grooms along the way who might have seen her coach leaving the vicinity of Willow Place. Blackbourne hoped the runner’s visit this morning meant he had learned something useful.

  A second later, Sawyer strutted into the room, his smile indicating that he was well pleased with himself. He paused in front of Blackbourne and his smile widened.

  “What have you found?” Blackbourne demanded.

  “Just a clue, your lordship. But I think it’s something that might lead us to her.”

  Blackbourne was astounded by the depth of relief that inundated him. “What clue?”

  “It’s come to my attention, ye might say, that a certain footman who worked at her ladyship’s house here in town was let go recently for imbibing on the job. I was able to locate that gentleman and, him being low on funds as a result of being without work, he seemed happy to exchange some information for a couple of pounds. He was on duty the day her ladyship left town so precipitously and he overheard her telling the butler that she had to get a message to a certain party.”

  Sawyer paused and glanced toward the sideboard, but Blackbourne was in no mood to share his brandy with the runner. “Well? I assume this footman told you something useful about the message.”

  The corners of Sawyer’s lips drooped, but he looked away from the sideboard and returned to his story. “Better than that, my lord. The butler gave the message to the footman to deliver, and he was told to wait for a reply at the other end. It’s a bit strange, to tell you the truth.”

  “Well, tell me, man.”

  “The message was to be delivered to a fellow who owns a foundry. The footman described him as a coarse, uneducated sort of man, but he didn’t seem surprised to be receiving a note from a countess. In fact, he took the message into another room, which the footman took to be an office, and the fellow returned a few minutes later with another message to be taken back to her ladyship.”

  “I don’t suppose the footman saw the contents of the message?”

  “No, my lord, for the missive was well sealed with wax. But when he got back to her ladyship’s house, the countess was waiting in the entrance hall and she opened the message with him standing there. Then she turned and said to that companion of hers, something along the lines of ‘It’s just as I thought, Becky.’ And then they left. The footman says he’ll lead me to the foundry, but he wants twenty pounds to do so and I wanted to clear that amount with your lordship before agreeing.”

  For the first time in days, Blackbourne did not feel as though a stone was resting on his heart. “That won’t be necessa
ry. I’ve been to that foundry before. I can give you the owner’s name.”

  Sawyer’s eyes widened. “Ye can?”

  “Yes. Although I’m fairly certain the fellow would refuse to give you any information about the countess. I would pay him a visit myself, but based on his demeanor the first time I met him, he wouldn’t tell me the time of day. I want you to investigate any properties he might own outside of London. I’d guess the man is well off financially, so perhaps he has a small estate or a house in the country.”

  Sawyer nodded. “I can do that, my lord. But it may take me a few days to discover anything without raising suspicions.”

  “Then take your time. I don’t want anyone warning the countess that I’m close to finding her. Just keep me informed. I want to hear from you at least every other day, even if you haven’t made any progress.”

  After casting a rather mournful glance toward the sideboard, Sawyer made his exit.

  * * * * *

  After a week with no progress on Sawyer’s part, Blackbourne was tempted to visit the foundry himself, but he feared he’d make bad matters worse. If Mr. Mason learned Blackbourne was actively searching for Amanda, he would be more inclined to try to hinder the search than to facilitate it.

  Another week passed and still Sawyer had found no records of other residences Mr. Mason might own. So, in hopes that Mason might communicate with Amanda, Blackbourne instructed Sawyer to hire more men to watch the foundry. What they discovered was that Mr. Mason’s schedule never varied. He went to work every morning and went home every evening, with an occasional visit to a nearby tavern. On Sundays he went to church. That was the extent of his social life.

  “I’m real sorry, yer lordship,” Sawyer said on his last scheduled visit. “If Mr. Mason knows where her ladyship is staying, he’s not sending any messages to her. Or if he is, he’s managing to do so without alerting my men. Do you want us to keep watching him?”

  Blackbourne sighed, then shook his head. Mason, obviously, was too canny to lead him to Amanda. Much as he hated the idea, he would have to visit the foundry owner himself and hope to convince the man that he intended Amanda no harm. Perhaps then Mason would either send word to Amanda or tell Blackbourne where to find her.

  Although he would rather have faced the French at Waterloo, Blackbourne prepared the following morning to pay a visit to Mason’s Foundry. He instructed Stephens to lay out one of his plainest coats and he tied his cravat in a simple style. He also decided to have his horse saddled rather than driving his curricle. The last thing he wanted was to arrive at Mr. Mason’s door looking as though he was trying to intimidate the foundry owner.

  He need not have worried. He was soon to discover, after arriving at the foundry and managing to talk his way into Mr. Mason’s presence, that the foundry owner was far from feeling intimidated. That gentleman stood toe to toe with him, looking Blackbourne straight in the eye, and listened to his tale with obvious impatience.

  When Blackbourne had finished making his case, Mr. Mason spoke. “I take leave to tell ye, yer lordship, that I’ve no use for you and never have had. Any man that was a friend to the Earl of Willowvale is not to be trusted and so I will tell ye to yer teeth.”

  Although Blackbourne had been admitted to Mr. Mason’s private office, he had not been invited to sit, so he clasped his hands behind his back and tried to appear at ease. He could not fault Mr. Mason for his loyalty to Amanda, but he did wish the fellow were a bit more open-minded.

  “I have explained, Mr. Mason, that I allowed myself to be prejudiced against Lady Willowvale before I met her. I have also confessed that I should never have threatened to take David away from her. Now I merely want to get word to her that I apologize and that she need not hide from me anymore.”

  Mr. Mason shook his head. “If ye think I’m passing along any messages to her, even assuming I might know where she is, ye’re far off the mark. I’ll have nothing to do with any efforts on yer part to track down Lady Willowvale. And I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

  Blackbourne inclined his head. “You have indeed, Mr. Mason. I wish you a good day.” He turned on his heel, exited the building and climbed back into the saddle. Never, since making his escape from his father and brothers, had he allowed a man to speak so roughly to him. But he had to admit that he deserved having Mr. Mason ring a peal over his head. He’d been wrong in his treatment of Amanda and now he must pay the price.

  The devil of it was that both Amanda and David were also paying the price, and they were not guilty of any wrong. While Blackbourne still wished that Amanda had not taken his mother in without at least consulting him, he could imagine how Cordelia had manipulated her.

  Unfortunately, he had realized too late the true extent of his aunt’s hatred of him. Cordelia had adored her brother and his two sons by his first marriage. And, no doubt following her brother’s lead, she had detested his second wife and his third son. Perhaps she now felt that with her brother and her older nephews dead, it fell to her to continue the campaign of hate against her sister-in-law and surviving nephew.

  And he, of course, had placed Amanda in Cordelia’s line of fire when he forced his aunt to introduce her to the ton. He should have known better, he supposed. He was beginning to think he had been mistaken about most of his judgments regarding other people in the last few years.

  Could that mean he’d been mistaken about his mother also?

  He’d been angry with her for so long that it was nearly impossible now to think rationally about her actions. He still found it impossible to understand how she could have deserted him, but he supposed he should give her a chance to tell her side of the story.

  Which he was determined to do, assuming he could find her.

  And the only way to find his mother was to find Amanda because he’d be willing to bet half of all he was worth that Amanda still sheltered his mother, wherever they might be.

  He was halfway home when he decided to turn around and confront Mr. Mason again. He had tried using reason with the man. Now he was prepared to use threats. After all, if Mason was cooperating in hiding David, Blackbourne’s legal ward, then he was breaking the law.

  Or at least Blackbourne thought that would be the case. He would certainly attempt to make Mason believe he was potentially in trouble. Perhaps then the man would at least send Amanda a message.

  Traffic increased as Blackbourne neared the foundry and he was forced to pull his horse to a halt nearly a block away from the business’s front door. While waiting impatiently for two overloaded wagons going in opposite directions to ease past each other and clear the road, Blackbourne saw a clerk step through the front door of the foundry, look around him as though assessing his surroundings and then quickly cross the street and cut into one of the alleys.

  “This looks promising,” Blackbourne murmured to himself. His hopes rising, he rode back a block and turned down a street that ran parallel with the alley. A couple of minutes later, the clerk stepped out of the alley and hurried toward a stable half a block away.

  Blackbourne found a spot in the shadows where he and his horse would be unobtrusive and waited until the clerk reappeared, this time driving a cart pulled by a single horse.

  The fellow was easy enough to follow as long as they were in the city, but after an hour, they had left the London traffic behind. Blackbourne was especially thankful then that he’d left his curricle behind today. Being on horseback allowed him to ride alongside the road and drop back whenever necessary to stay out of sight should Mason’s clerk look behind him.

  After another forty minutes, the clerk turned off the main highway and onto a trail that, according to the signpost, led toward the village of Saddlewarth. The cart was the only vehicle on this narrow stretch of road and Blackbourne was hard-pressed to hang back enough to stay out of sight.

  Fortunately, the clerk soon slowed, then turned his cart into a drive that led to the front of a solid-looking stone house set back from the road and sheltered by a stand of m
assive oaks.

  Blackbourne stopped and dismounted, leading his horse into the forest on the side of the road. After looping the reins around a tree branch, he made his way on foot toward the side garden of the stone house.

  The idea that he might soon be seeing Amanda filled him with such contradictory emotions that for a second, he hardly knew what to think. His heart hammered as though he’d run the last ten miles.

  What did it mean? True, in addition to desiring Amanda, he had grown quite fond of her. He admired her. He could even imagine spending a great deal of time with her in the future.

  And the attraction wasn’t merely physical. He wasn’t sure why, but he enjoyed her company even when his body wasn’t responding to her beauty.

  Too, this feeling of euphoria was something new. He’d never before experienced such joy at the mere thought of seeing a woman’s face, hearing the sound of her voice, watching her expression for the tiniest suggestion that she felt some degree of fondness for him.

  He realized there was a smile on his face when he paused behind a large shrub and peered through the branches toward the house. The cart and horse sat in front of a set of steps leading up to a covered porch, but the clerk was nowhere to be seen.

  Blackbourne stayed where he was, his eyes on the front door until, after a few minutes passed, the clerk exited, hurried down the steps and climbed into the cart. Without looking back, he guided the horse down the drive and turned back onto the lane leading to the main highway that would take him back to London.

  Clearly Mason had sent his clerk to warn Amanda that Blackbourne was close to finding her and perhaps he had even suggested that she move on to another hiding place. Before that could happen, Blackbourne was determined to confront her, to tell her she had nothing to fear from him.