by Lynda Hurst
“Mr. Denby, that is all I ask. I thank you for indulging my search.” Faith handed him his regular payment, and he took his leave with a tip of his hat.
Faust appeared at her side when Mr. Denby rode off on his mount to claim, “I’m beginning to feel less optimistic about your relentless search for the countess. It’s been years, and we still haven’t come up with new clues.”
“It’s odd, Faust,” Faith pondered. “If the search continues to turn up nothing, then that tells me that the two of them have literally fallen off the face of the earth. I refuse to believe that that’s what happened as that’s an impossibility I’m not yet willing to accept. They can’t have vanished into thin air. Something must have happened to them.”
“With that being said, what do you think might have happened to them?” Faust asked.
“I don’t know. So many years have passed and still no word from either of them? Everyone in town knows how much the duke doted on his only son. He hasn’t sent Devlin any letters just as Mother hasn’t tried to contact me. Even when Father was alive, she still wrote once in a while.”
“Just as you said, it has been many years,” Faust agreed. “But what if they are no longer of this earth? What if they were involved in an accident and it hadn’t been reported?”
“Two people of the peerage and no newspapers snatching up that story?” Faith countered. “That’d be hard to pass up as a juicy story for the reporters and gossip columnists.”
“Then what about foul play?”
Faith permitted a few heartbeats of silence to pass. Of course she had thought of that possibility, but once she entertained it, it wasn’t hard to imagine who could have done it. A jealous former lover of either her mother’s or the Duke’s? Her father? Devlin himself to obtain a dukedom? The first option seemed the most likely, the second option less so, and the last? Faith found it doubtful that a son who had loved his father that deeply wouldn’t be the most eligible candidate as his father’s murderer. If not either of these, then who? And why?
Devlin had mentioned his sister Margaret had been deeply torn by their father’s disappearance and had fallen ill as a result. Would she have been capable of doing the deed? Just as quickly, Faith discounted his sister as she too doted on her father significantly.
She tried to imagine what could have befallen her mother and the duke, but there were too many scenarios, all of them horrific, that were most likely. Highwaymen could have accosted them and done away with their bodies; drowning; a broken carriage wheel causing them to fall over a cliff; or poison. The pictures she drew up in her mind’s eye were too vivid for her to seriously consider as real-life possibilities. No matter how large her imagination, it didn’t serve as well as would the truth she desperately sought.
She was silent a moment too long for Faust’s liking, and he prodded, “Faith? Are you still here?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. Of course, I’m still here. I’m standing right next to you, aren’t I?”
“I meant to say, what were you thinking?”
Embarrassed at the direction her thoughts had taken, Faith blushed. “I’m sorry, Faust. You mentioned foul play and my imagination ran away with me. It had crossed my mind, and all I accomplished in that futile exercise was more questions. If foul play is suspected, then I’m not sure where to even begin to start a search for answers.”
Faust thoughtfully tapped his index finger against his lips. A light that cried ‘Eureka’ crept up in his eyes and a smile curved his mouth. “I think I know where you could start.”
“Really?” Faith quirked a brow at how quickly he came up with an idea. “Where do you propose we look? London?”
His smile grew even wider. “Not where. Whom?”
Puzzled, Faith wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m not following.”
“The other side of the coin in this story. Go ask the Duke of Prestonridge himself. He might at least have something else in his story that we haven’t yet heard.”
Faith’s heart dropped at the thought of seeking Devlin for his help. She hadn’t seen or talked to him in years. Not since the day he’d left them alone with her father’s body sprawled in their front hall at Revelstoke Place. She commiserated a little with how Juliet must have felt in proclaiming, my only love sprung from my only hate, but in Faith’s case, the order was reversed. Her childhood infatuation with him still held strong in her heart, but the memory of his callous treatment of her and her family was an open wound that might never be remedied. Nevertheless, her determination to gain headway in her quest for answers about her mother far outweighed her reluctance to meet him face-to-face once again.
“You know I won’t give up on Mother. I’ll do whatever necessary to find out what’s become of her and the duke. I’ll write Devlin and see if he’ll be willing to see me. Will you do me the favor of delivering it to him personally?”
5
Not far from Atwell Cottage, Devlin was in residence at Prestonridge Manor along with his twenty-two-year-old sister, Margaret, and his father’s cousin, Lord Hamish Avery, having breakfast in the family’s private dining room. Devlin was glad to see his sister chatting merrily with Uncle Hamish, both in good spirits. After she had fallen gravely ill due to the devastation of losing Father, Margaret hadn’t lost the melancholy look in her eyes that hurt his heart. Over time, Margaret slowly re-integrated herself into her former happier activities and had ventured to visit the town and old friends more frequently. Her former self was re-emerging, and Devlin was heartened to see her so.
Uncle Hamish had been of great help when Father had run off with Eugenia Revelstoke. His London connections with the banks and an attorney friend were extremely beneficial in securing Devlin’s position as the new duke and ensuring their finances were safe. With his premature succession to the title, Devlin hadn’t been yet fully knowledgeable of how to run such a large estate, and Uncle Hamish proficiently stepped in to help him learn the intricacies of his ducal duties. Devlin owed their uncle more than he could ever repay and when he brought up the subject, Uncle Hamish brushed off the subject in saying, “You are family. Isn’t it our duty as family to look out for each other?” Grateful was a mild word for what Devlin felt then.
Tuning back into the conversation surrounding him, Devlin perked up his ears when he heard his sister allude to a familiar person. “I was in town the other day to shop for a new book,” she began. “You wouldn’t dare to guess who crossed my path on her way to the posting office! Faith Revelstoke! At first, I thought it was the mother, but I remembered that the mother was taller and more buxom than the girl I had seen yesterday.”
“Oh?” Hamish said with mild interest, before lifting his teacup to his lips. After a short sip, he continued, “I hadn’t realized any of the Revelstokes were still about in these parts. Was she alone? I can’t imagine any of her family would be with her after the boys had sailed for the Colonies and the older sister had married and left England.”
“That’s the scandalous part, Uncle,” Margaret declared, sounding every bit like a gossip-hungry female to Devlin’s slight displeasure. He had thought of Faith every now and then, accepting that she must have accompanied one of her siblings away from England. He had worried how she fared, and then summarily dismissed his concern with the assumption that she would have married by now. To hear that she was nearby significantly surprised him.
Margaret continued, “She wasn’t aware I was but across the street from her, but she entered the posting office with a stack of wrapped papers. As I watched, she was met at the entrance on her way out by a strange gentleman, dressed smartly but in dusty riding clothes. I had never seen him before, but he handed her a packet of something I couldn’t quite see, and she had seized one of his hands with one of hers, looking, for all the world to see, quite adoringly up at him.” There was no reason for Devlin to be bothered by it, but he felt uncomfortable with hearing of a stranger and Faith together.
“Her beau, perhaps,” Hamish guessed. “Maybe he is from the next tow
n over?”
“I can’t be sure, but they did walk together, with her hand tucked on his arm, over to the side of the posting office to talk more privately. They were engaged in a long conversation, that seemed highly improper as she had no escort with her when she arrived in town. I hadn’t realized I watched them so long until my maid had cleared her throat and mentioned the time. When I turned to look back at Faith, the gentleman was kissing her hand and took his leave.”
Devlin shouldn’t be upset that a strange man was kissing Faith’s hand on a public street. Margaret had been hurt deeply at losing their father and made no secret of the scorn she had for anyone with the Revelstoke name. If she had an inkling that he harbored any tender sentiments for Faith, he feared his sister would regress back to the despondent state he had worked so hard to bring her back from. He could not allow himself to entertain any kind of warm feelings towards the very girl who twisted his guts in knots since she was ten.
Hamish, in an offhand manner, suggested, “In my opinion and given what details you mentioned, I’m led to believe that man may have been her protector, and she his mistress.” Margaret nodded her agreement, feeding her personal partiality for juicy gossip. While his family continued their assumptions regarding Faith’s character, Devlin inwardly strained to rein in his temper. Faith as someone’s mistress? Over his dead body!
It took a colossal effort to keep his temper under control before he could calmly ask, “Anyone know of Faith’s direction?”
Surprised at her brother’s question, Margaret replied, “Why? Are you planning to pay her a social call?”
A stony look from him made Margaret widen her eyes at his demeanor and answered instead, “Mary Ellesmere’s maid told my maid that Faith had never left the area even after you had tossed the Revelstokes out on their ears. She instead took up residence on Ellesmere land, renting out Atwell Cottage there with her younger brother, but he is currently away at school.” Hamish hummed at her answer, dismissing the information as trivial and resumed his breakfast.
Atwell Cottage? Alone? Devlin could not surrender the idea of Faith as a kept woman with his sister’s disclosure, and neither could he reconcile the fact that the little girl he once worried himself over had found a protector who kept her comfortable. The girl should have been safely married without knowing a tarnished reputation as a mistress! Devlin seethed at the thought of her having to make use of her womanly charms to keep herself sheltered, clothed, and fed. It couldn’t be borne, and he resolved to do something about it.
“Uncle Hamish, Margaret, I’ll be paying her a call presently. She needs someone to talk some sense into her,” he said with steely determination. He stood up, intending to leave for Atwell Cottage straightaway.
“Er, Devlin,” Margaret cut in amidst his racing thoughts stopping him from making his exit. “Why do you have to be the one to rebuke her for her unseemly actions? You have no connection to her nor do you have any authority over her.”
Stupefied into silence, Devlin knew she was right. But his protective instincts concerning Faith had been provoked by his sister’s story; he needed to see for himself what his actions six years ago had done to affect the course of Faith’s life.
Hamish cleared his throat before Devlin could come up with a reply, and declared, “Actually, Devlin, there is a matter I’d like to discuss with you in private before you take your leave. I received communication from your father’s attorney that needs your attention.”
Devlin sighed, a little put out that he would have to postpone his plans for his sudden visit. “All right, we can talk in my office.” Devlin led the way as Hamish made his excuses to Margaret and promptly followed him out of the dining room, and unhurriedly swept into Devlin’s office. Devlin closed the door behind him as Hamish pulled out a letter from a drawer of his desk, a smaller version of Devlin’s.
Handing the sealed letter to Devlin, Hamish explained, “It’s a letter from your father, and was supposed to have been released to you six years ago. However, the doddering old fool of an attorney had misplaced the letter among a stack of other documents and had only found it while sweeping out old files.”
Devlin broke the seal and scanned the letter quickly. Seeing his father’s penmanship on the pages ripped open the feelings he hid away, and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat as he read his father’s words. As he read, his father apologized to his children for his actions and begged forgiveness for loving the countess to the degree that he did. He confessed that he was assisting the countess in finding a way to divorce the earl and take custody of her three younger children who still needed their mother. For his father, loving the countess extended to her own younger children, and had asked Devlin to look after them for him until they returned. So, they had plans to come home?
Reading on, the latter half of the letter changed from his father’s bold strokes of the pen to a smaller, more feminine hand at writing. Eugenia Revelstoke had written her own version of why the two of them had run off but had explained her actions in a different bent. One that Faith deserved to know for herself. The countess had wanted her children with her and far away from the earl, she explained, but the earl’s condition for her freedom and continued financial support was to keep the children under his roof. Otherwise, if she had thought to take them, he would divorce her without a penny or a roof over her head.
A smaller envelope lay nestled between the pages addressed to Faith and Ethan, the seal unbroken. Clutching it, Devlin realized that his visit to Atwell Cottage would now be for a two-fold reason.
“What does it say?” Hamish asked when Devlin looked up.
With a great sigh, Devlin said, “It seems that Father was assisting the countess with gaining a divorce from the earl. Before their disappearance, I was charged with looking after the two youngest Revelstokes. If I had gotten this letter when it was meant to be sent, would I have taken them in? As angry as I was then, I doubt it. But Father demanded my word to see to their welfare, and I would have given it, no question.” Guilt swamped Devlin, feeling low for subjecting a sixteen-year-old Faith and young Ethan to fate’s whims without the care of a proper guardian, no matter how late this letter had reached him.
Hamish gave him an incredulous look, and exclaimed, “That’s preposterous! For your Father and his mistress to expect you to look after her brats? It’s unheard of! With the countess as their mother, Faith Revelstoke has certainly followed in her mother’s slatternly footsteps, and I will not have you consider supporting Revelstoke filth! Think of how it would hurt your sister!”
Devlin turned an angry countenance on his father’s cousin, and rejoined, “Watch your mouth, Uncle! Out of that Revelstoke mess of a family, Faith was the only one who was not cut from the same cloth as them. She may not have had much choice till now but to take on a protector in order to survive. I can’t blame her for that as it’s my fault she has been living alone all of these years.”
Hamish stubbornly held his position in his attitude towards the Revelstokes, and wisely did not continue in that vein. He huffed instead, “Your position as the duke should see you better acquainted with people of quality. An association with the Revelstoke girl would only hurt your sister’s chances of making a good match this upcoming season.”
Devlin shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Hamish was right about how so-called polite society would view this situation, and Margaret deserved to find the best possible husband who would truly care for her. With the Revelstoke name still entangled with scandal, the list of potential husbands for Margaret would be reduced to the fortune-hunters and degenerates if he chose to aid Faith.
“I know this already, and I don’t need your blessing in this. Father had a desire to see Faith and Ethan looked after, and I’m going to see to it that they are,” Devlin said, determinedly.
A knock sounded at the door, and Devlin, glad of a distraction, rushed to open it. Hugo, the Prestonridge butler, stood there with a strange man standing just
a few steps behind him. “Ah, Hugo, what is it?” Devlin prodded, curious about the stranger.
Hugo properly announced, “Your Grace, Mr. Faust is here to personally deliver a message on behalf of Lady Faith Revelstoke.”
A message from Faith? Who was this man to Faith and why would Faith decide only now to correspond with him? Whatever the reason, Devlin supposed he should allow the man an audience to find out. He waved him through his office door as Hamish hastily made his exit, granting them privacy.
Noting the man’s appearance to be close to his own age, Devlin wondered if this man was Faith’s protector and lover. Feeling suddenly uncharitable towards the other man, Devlin barked out, “Who are you? And why have you come to see me?”
Unfazed by the duke’s rudeness, Faust said good-naturedly, “Your Grace, I am your humble servant, Faust, Lady Revelstoke’s valet. She has given me instructions to hand-deliver this message of great urgency.” Drawing out the missive from within his pocket, Faust handed it over with great aplomb.
A lady’s valet? That was most absurd; Devlin hadn’t realized that Faith’s faceless protector had paid handsomely for a servant as well. Snatching the note and hastily reading its contents, Devlin looked up at Faust with questions blooming left and right.
