Nobody's Lady

by Annabelle Anders

  She had believed when she’d given him her body, it had been something sacred. Did he remember it that way as well?

  He hadn’t married in all this time. Surely not for lack of opportunity. At one-and-twenty Michael had been heart-stoppingly handsome. Now, at thirty, he was devastatingly attractive and a duke to boot. His features were still just as striking, but his face now somewhat chiseled, the line of his jaw more defined, his beard coarse. He was sinewy, hardened by work or exercise. And his eyes, those beautiful eyes of his, held wisdom and more than a little cynicism. Her dear Michael was now every inch the aristocrat.

  Surely, he’d had mistresses? Likely, many of them since he’d remained unmarried. Or maybe one special lady…? This thought hurt more than contemplating the former.

  Stop it, Lilly! She chastised herself for even contemplating such unproductive thoughts. She would never know. By now, he’d experienced a lifetime of living in which she’d never been a part. She had no place in his future either.

  “Do you think, Your Grace”—yes, that’s what she must call him; he was no longer her Michael—“the highwaymen who attacked you were politically motivated?” Her question came out of the blue. She must think about something else. The mystery of the hijacking suited perfectly. “They very nearly succeeded in delaying your arrival in London and got away with all of those documents. That could have been their purpose, all along.”

  “A little drastic, don’t you think?” He raised one skeptical eyebrow.

  “More drastic measures have been taken for less, I’m sure. One never knows. Were the documents really so very important?”

  Michael had considered this possibility. “I’d arranged to present them to other members. I’ve gathered compelling evidence that could possibly sway a few to change their votes. Those few votes could make all the difference in the world. If I cannot show them our evidence, though, our arguments are considerably less convincing. And without those votes, the amendment will fail.”

  “Can you think of any political enemies who oppose you strongly enough to take such action?”

  Michael could almost laugh at that. “It could be anyone on either side of the issue. As a duke, I am required to live by the laws. And as we’ve discussed, the Corn Laws bring hardship to the poor. But as a member of Parliament, one who opposes the laws, I’ve already angered many who believe they are the answer to all of England’s economic woes.”

  “But has anyone in particular threatened you? Has any person given you misgivings as of late?”

  Michael had a few such gentlemen in mind. Normally, he would never speak of such things with a lady, but this was Lilly, and she obviously had some awareness of political issues. His mind taunted him with the notion that she’d discussed intellectual matters with her husband.

  She was no longer the naïve and innocent girl he’d once known.

  And now she wanted to help him. Good Lord! She was attempting to deduce who had held up his carriage.

  “The Earl of Hawthorn has sent me several letters imploring me to reconsider my position. At first, they were cordial, but his later missives have carried some venom.” He’d suspected Hawthorn the moment he’d stepped out of the carriage at gunpoint.

  “Have they included any threats?” she asked.

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Where does the earl reside when he is not in London?”

  “His home, Maple Hall, is just south of Reading.”

  Lilly raised both her brows upon hearing this. They were to pass through Reading within a matter of hours. “Wouldn’t you like to peek into his coach house to see if, by chance, your carriage is housed there? Perhaps you could recover your papers!”

  “Would Hawthorn be idiotic enough to keep evidence of the crime on his own property? Would he implicate himself so blatantly?” Michael was skeptical. It was too easy.

  “You tell me. I do not know the man. Would he?”

  The idea of investigating, possibly recovering his property, tempted him. Unfortunately, he no longer travelled alone. There were three women, two men, one small dog, and their boatload of luggage to consider. Still, though, he ought to take advantage of their proximity to the earl’s estate.

  “I could hire a mount at the next inn.” How could he not at least take a look? “Your idea has merit.”

  “You’ll need assistance. I can come along and be your lookout.” Lilly offered her services brazenly. Both Mary and Glenda looked at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted wings.

  Before the words were even out of her mouth, Michael was shaking his head. “Absolutely not.” His tone forbade contradictions.

  Best to cut ties with Lilly now, before she crawled any further under his skin. As it was, he already felt a renewed connection with her, and notions leading in that direction were impossible. He didn’t blame her any longer. At least he didn’t think he did. Blaming himself wasn’t useful either.

  He would part company with them in Reading.

  He’d spent months berating himself for not getting word to her despite the quarantine. For all intents and purposes, circumstances made it look as though he’d abandoned her. He’d taken her innocence and then not contacted her for nearly a month. Had there been repercussions from the night under the waterfall?

  There had not been.

  Michael had, in fact, made certain to discover this for himself. When informed that the Baroness Beauchamp was most definitely not with child, he had been greatly relieved.

  He’d also been irrationally disappointed.

  Lilly was his past. Lady Natalie was his future.

  ****

  With his luck changing, Michael acquired a respectable mount when they arrived at the Reading posting inn. He gave strict instructions for Arty to see the women to their lodgings in London and to be certain of their welfare before taking leave of them. The women had gone into the inn for lunch and to freshen up.

  He would say goodbye to Lilly with Glenda and the maid looking on. It would be for the best.

  Handing the mare off to Arty, Michael turned to go in search of the private dining parlor where they would be eating.

  Except, that would not be necessary.

  A flash of Miss Fussy out of the corner of his eyes, alerted him that Lillie had remained outside. She would care more about exercising her pup than dining in leisure. She played with the dog, unaware he was looking on.

  This time, he would tell her goodbye. There must have been smoke in the air nearby, for his eyes burned as he memorized her features.

  When he arrived at her side, he didn’t speak right away. A breeze carried a hint of her perfume in his direction. It was the same: hyacinth and citrus. Warm and delicate—like Lilly. A lump formed in his throat.

  “My outrider will continue with your party.” He spoke rather stiffly. He didn’t look directly at her.

  Lilly nodded, understanding his discomfort. She’d given him her body, once, but that was ancient history. He owed her nothing now. The promises they’d made to one another were null and void. They had been for years. It was best that they part.

  The fool! He planned on travelling to the Earl of Hawthorn’s estate alone!

  “That’s fine. Thank you, Your Grace.” She thought he should take somebody along with him but didn’t want to feel the sting of his rejection again. So, she simply responded evenly.

  But she had other ideas…

  “I do appreciate all you have done for me. You did not have to offer me conveyance along with your party. Your assistance has been invaluable.” His voice was distant, that of a stranger almost.

  “My pleasure,” she said, “Your Grace.” She didn’t mean to sound petulant. She wanted to be able to think they could remain friends, but that was impossible. There was too much sentiment left between them, for her anyway—to many memories for her to be friendly and cordial.

  As strong as she thought she had become over the past years, she would rather not watch him marry another woman. She was not a glutton
for punishment.

  She turned toward him and attempted a smile. “I do wish you luck in everything. I hope you recover your documents so you can pass your amendment, and I—well, I wish you happiness in your marriage.” She could say no more lest she make a fool of herself and allow her tears to come. She bent down and clapped her hands. “Come now, Miss Fussy. Come to Mummy!”

  The dog ignored her for a moment and then ran and jumped into her arms. Her legs shook as she rose to stand. She could not go back into the inn and make conversation with Glenda and Mary. Hopefully, they were nearly ready to depart.

  Michael bowed toward her. “Goodbye, Lilly.” No regret in his voice, only a steely determination to be on his way. This was worse than she could have imagined.

  Lilly nodded in his direction and then turned with her dog to climb into the carriage. She wished the carriage could whisk her away from him, leaving clouds of dust in their wake.

  But wishes were just that. Wishes.

  And her dignified exit was eclipsed by the fact that she had to sit in an unmoving carriage awaiting the arrival of the other occupants.

  In the end, it was she who watched Michael mount his horse and ride away from her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Recovering the Goods

  Michael had acquired directions to the earl’s estate while at the inn and was cheered to discover it was only a few miles south of Reading. And so, after less than an hour of riding at a comfortable pace, he found himself at the end of the long drive. What were the chances the earl was in residence? With the opening of Parliament a week away, it was possible he himself had not yet departed for London. Unless, that is, he had plans to court votes the same as Michael.

  Best to assume the earl was in residence.

  Michael dismounted and walked the horse into the trees so they would not be visible from the road. Damn, Lilly had a point. It would have been convenient to have a second along.

  He didn’t like leaving the horse alone.

  After securing his mount, Michael remained under cover of the trees as he edged around the perimeter of various sheds and outbuildings. The large brick structure was easily identifiable as the coach house. It was built adjacent to the stables.

  A back door was left open, and no servants were in sight. Again, Michael wished he had thought this endeavor through more ahead of time. He’d been too bloody distracted by Lilly to think critically. What if his carriage was, in fact, hidden inside the coach house?

  One couldn’t simply hop onto a carriage and drive it away. Horses required harnessing, and that took time. Time Michael wouldn’t necessarily be allowed. In those moments, he could likely be accosted by one or more of the henchman who’d attacked them yesterday.

  And yet the thought of locating his team and coach and then abandoning them once again did not sit well with him either. Michael had brought his pistols with him, but he was only one man. Albeit a damned irritated one!

  It took a moment for Michael’s eyes to adjust as he peered into the open doorway, but even in the shadowy building, there was no mistaking what he saw.

  Parked as though it had recently been out for a Sunday drive sat his very own personal carriage, the ducal insignia displayed prominently. Michael was tempted to march up to the main house and confront the earl. But…again…he was but one man, and already the earl had shown no qualms at resorting to violence.

  Creeping into the cool silence of the large structure, Michael quietly peeked into the windows of his coach. It appeared the contents had been untouched. His boots and greatcoat, along with the other men’s hijacked attire, were carelessly tossed on one of the leather benches inside.

  His valise and the papers lay on the other.

  Unwilling to risk losing the documents a second time, he hastily stuffed the loose papers into his valise and then turned to exit the building.

  He could not retrieve the carriage by himself. He was going to have to go back to Reading and return with a magistrate. Hawthorn must be insane! Horse theft was a hanging offence, by God.

  “I didn’t think we’d be so lucky as to actually find anything here.”

  Michael nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing Arty’s voice.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” Michael’s voice rasped. He’d given the man explicit instructions.

  Arty shrugged, sheepishly. “The baroness told me to follow you. She insisted you needed me more than they did and then ordered me off her carriage. Didn’t want to argue with the lady, Your Grace, though I’m sorry not to have been able to carry out your orders.”

  Michael tilted his head back and took a slow deep breath. Impertinent wench! Then he glanced over at the carriage again.

  “The team isn’t in here. Have you by chance checked the stables?”

  “I have, Your Grace, and our team is in there—your team—Your Grace,” he said. Up until the other day, he’d never had much reason to speak with his employer directly.

  “Did you see anybody?”

  “A couple of boys—grooms.”

  Most of the earl’s staff might have travelled with him to London. It was anybody’s guess as to the location of the stable master.

  Michael was a duke, however, and he planned to exploit this fact. He explained his idea to Arty, and the two of them marched to the stable.

  “You there, boys,” Michael called out. “Why isn’t my conveyance ready for travel? The earl said it would be in good repair and ready for departure today at noon. It’s now half past!”

  The boys looked at him in utter confusion and alarm. They then looked at each other.

  “Don’t you realize I am the Duke of Cortland, and that is my travelling coach in there?” He pointed at the coach house. “I want it ready for departure in fifteen minutes!”

  “The blacks inside are your team, Yer Grace?”

  “All four of them! Now move!” Unwilling to draw their employer’s ire, the boys scampered to the coach house. Cortland turned to Arty. “Better make sure they do it right,” he said.

  Arty smiled, sauntered into the coach house, and began issuing instruction to the boys.

  The conveyance was ready within one quarter of an hour.

  Before heading back toward town, Michael and Arty retrieved the hired mounts so they could return them to the posting inn. That was the only stop they would make. With a deadline awaiting them, Michael had no time to waste with magistrates.

  All in all, it had been quite a coup.

  For later that night, Michael and his footman rode into Mayfair, both of them sitting on the driver’s box, just after sunset. It was not so late, though, that he would miss the first of Danbury’s political dinners.

  ****

  Marveling at the events of the past forty-eight hours, Michael pondered the guests at Viscount Danbury’s table. Danbury, of course, sat at the head of the table while his mother, the viscountess, held up the other end. She was an eccentric woman, known by the colorful plumes she wore in her startling white hair. At times, the feathers added up to twenty-four inches of height and a similar number of inches to the girth of her head. Every time she stood near candles burning in wall sconces, he was fearful she would go up in flames. In that moment, she discoursed avidly with one of Lady Natalie’s older brothers. Michael was uncertain which one, however, as they were all similar in looks. He imagined once married to their sister, he would remember each of them by their given names.

  The Earl of Ravensdale had done well securing his line.

  Seated beside Danbury was Hector Crone, Baron Riverton. His baroness, Lady Riverton, and daughter, Penelope, sat at the other end, near Danbury’s mother. Riverton was an amiable fellow who hadn’t committed to either side of the issue. Michael and his allies hoped to win him over that evening.

  Lady Natalie sat to Michael’s right and her father on his left. He’d spent considerable time engaging his bride-to-be in pleasant conversation, only to find himself repeatedly comparing her to Lilly. It seemed every word Lady Nat
alie spoke had been rehearsed. Her ability to discuss the weather, fashion, and various events of the season would, nonetheless, keep her above any criticism as a duchess.

  He’d be bored to tears if, once married, their conversations remained so limited. Hopefully, after some time as his wife, she would speak what was on her mind and in her heart—to him at least. He intended to grow to love her eventually. He intended to have warmth in his marriage.

  His discussions with her father were a great deal more interesting. Lord Ravensdale, through hard work and thoughtful investments, had rejected the concept that aristocrats avoid trade and had successfully increased profits on all of his estates. He’d come into his title unexpectedly while employed as a barrister. Ravensdale’s own father had been a disowned younger son who, after marrying below his station, hadn’t maintained contact with his aristocratic roots.

  Michael had met Lord Ravensdale during the first year he’d become Cortland. Upon discovering the older man’s wisdom and strength of character, he’d come to value the earl’s mentorship.

  Although the men discussed some politics at the table, they did so only in a general sense. They would wait until the ladies removed themselves before going into any detail regarding their strategies and proposed alliances.

  Michael had been pondering what Hawthorn had wanted to accomplish with the highway robbery. It was no secret the man was something of a fanatic when it came to the separation of the classes. Many of his servants had left his employ for that very reason. He’d been labelled an eccentric, a strange character. Michael suspected the man belonged in Bedlam.

  Except he was an earl.

  Likely, the robbery was not going to be his only attempt to block them. Although neither Michael nor his servants had been injured, Hawthorn had proven he was not above using foul means to accomplish his ends. They would need to keep a watchful eye on the bastard.

  Had it not been for Lilly, Michael would have been considerably delayed and his agenda completely upended. He also would not have gone after Hawthorn and, without Arty’s help, would have been unable to recover his coach and team in such a timely fashion. It was difficult to keep his mind off her. He ought to call on her aunt tomorrow to assure himself of their safe arrival. She deserved no less than his gratitude.