* * *
Lord Crampton sat in the worn, overstuffed chair and stared at Lady Phoebe, stretched out on the bed in the posting inn they had stopped at a few hours before. She certainly was a beautiful young lady. An abundance of brown curls, highlighted with gold, were spread over the pillow. He’d removed her bonnet and took out her hairpins when he laid her down. He studied her face from her plump, deep pink lips to the lengthy lashes resting on her creamy white skin, hiding what he knew were deep blue eyes. The eyes of a siren.
The girl had spirit, too, and fought him quite hard before he was able to dose her with laudanum, which had spilled all over the coach and her person. Right now, he was admittedly a bit concerned about how long it was taking her to wake up from the drug. He didn’t want to kill the chit. Hell, he didn’t even want to be in her presence, couldn’t wait to be done with her, and on his way back to Greece with full pockets. The only way to accomplish that was to use her. She was no more than his means to that end.
Once her mother discovered her young chick missing, and in the company of a man with no maid or other chaperone, there would be no other solution but to marry her off to him. He would get the money, bed her—since he might as well enjoy what he’d paid for with his freedom—then leave her in the country while he spent the next few years in Greece before he had to return, settle down, and fill his nursery.
It was a wonderful plan, and one he couldn’t wait to see to its end.
He ran his finger around the inside of his cravat, tapped his fingertips on the arm of the chair, and wished she would wake up, so he didn’t have to worry about a murder charge.
Chapter 13
Selina rested her head against the back of the squab in Henry’s carriage as they lumbered along to Lord Crampton’s house. The only thing keeping her from crawling into her bed was the anxiety at Phoebe being in that horrible man’s hands. She agreed with Henry, though. For all the terrible things about Lord Crampton, she was certain he would not physically harm Phoebe.
“You do know if this becomes public, Phoebe will be ruined?” Selina turned her head from where she watched the carriage slowly making its way through the traffic. She wanted to scream and just jump from the vehicle and race the rest of the way to her old home.
“That is the key, my love,” Henry said as he took her hand in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Phoebe is not out yet and is not well-known. Lord Crampton has only just returned from Greece a few weeks ago and is not as notorious as others in the ton. They might not be seen together by anyone who matters.”
She sucked in a breath. “You don’t suppose he would physically compromise her, do you?”
“Again, I am guessing, but for all his faults, I feel underneath it all, he is a man of honor. You know Phoebe would fight him on that, and I don’t think he would force her.”
“Where are you getting these opinions, Henry?”
“I’ve learned a few things about him visiting my clubs. He is irresponsible with his estates, runs up bills with shopkeepers who he knows he can’t pay, and tried to ruin you with gossip.”
“Well, so far he sounds like the best of men.” She smirked, not necessarily feeling the humor.
“On the other hand, it seems he had planned to raise his tenants’ rent but relented when his steward pointed out the farmers would not be able to feed their families with a rent raise. He also found a young woman on the streets in Greece, bought her from her father, and she’s been Crampton’s mistress for several years, living quite well. Although that might not seem noble at first glance, he saved the girl from a life of misery.”
“Where did he get his money before he inherited Crampton’s estates?”
“He’d been the beneficiary of two very small estates in Cornwall from someone on his mother’s side.”
She grinned at him. “You certainly did glean a lot of information on the man. I thought it was only women who gossiped?”
“Not quite, my love. Men do just as much, only we don’t let it be known, and keep it behind the walls of our clubs.” He moved the curtain aside and peeked out the window. “It appears we are almost at Crampton’s townhouse.”
They left the carriage and climbed the stairs to the residence. A short drop of the knocker had the door opening. “Good afternoon, Stevens,” Selina said.
“My lady! What a pleasure to see you. Are you to see his lordship? Because if you are, he is not at home, and I believe not expected for a couple of days.”
“No, actually we are here to speak with some of the staff. May we be allowed to do that?”
He stared at her and considered the matter. It would be against procedure in all houses to allow outsiders to question the staff, but she had been their employer for years when she’d been married to Lord Crampton. “I would like to consult with Mr. Westfall.”
Westfall was the head butler, and that request made perfect sense. “Yes, please do. We shall wait in the drawing room.”
He bowed. “Very good. I will send in tea.”
Selina was grateful for tea. For as much as she couldn’t think of swallowing her tea this morning, now she found herself ravenous. Once Phoebe was back home, Selina needed to address these issues she’d been having. She most likely needed more rest. Especially if she were to be feeling her best when the girls made their come-outs. That would be a very strenuous time, and she needed her usual energy.
Perhaps she was not as young as she used to be as Henry so “lovingly” pointed out.
“Good afternoon, Lady Crampton.” Westfall entered the room and bowed. “May I say you are looking splendid, and it is a pleasure to see you once again.”
“Thank you, Westfall.” She hesitated, wanting to get the man’s cooperation but not wanting to disparage his employer, either. She decided honesty was the best approach. “It is imperative that we find out where Lord Crampton has gone. We must speak with him as quickly as possible.”
If her request seemed odd, the butler did not show it. But then, good butlers—which Westfall certainly was—didn’t allow their feelings to be visible. “Very good, my lady. I know you would not ask such a thing unless it was an absolute necessity. I will send in his lordship’s valet, Spencer.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as he quit the room, Selina turned to Henry. “Odd that Crampton didn’t take his valet.”
Henry nodded as a footman carried a tea tray in. She eyed the offerings, and her mouth actually watered. She quickly fixed tea for her and Henry and filled her plate with three small sandwiches and two tarts. She looked up at Henry who viewed her with raised brows. “Hungry, are we?”
“I don’t know why. But yes. Yet this morning, just the thought of food had my stomach roiling.” She shook her head as she took a bite of a cucumber and cheese spread sandwich.
The door opened, and a man, who was obviously Crampton’s valet, entered the room. He crossed the floor and stood before them.
“Please have a seat. Spencer, is it?” She smiled, trying to put the man at ease.
Henry took one look at the man and decided he had no information. He did not look at all anxious, rather more puzzled. But they put him through the normal questions while Selina ate like she’d seen her last meal days ago.
“Do you have any idea who his lordship’s driver might confide in?” Henry asked as he took the lemon tart from his plate and placed it on Selina’s now empty one. She grinned and nodded her thanks.
“While it is not well-known among the staff, John Coachman has had a fancy for Mollie, one of the scullery maids.”
Ah, possibly a break. “Thank you, Spencer. Can you please find Mollie and ask her to join us?”
The man stood, bowed, and left the room. Henry turned to Selina. “Shall I ask for another tray to be brought in?”
Instead of treating his words as a joke—which is how he meant them to be—she studied the tray for a minute, then shook her head. “No. I think I’ve had enough.”
While he pondered those word
s, Spencer returned. “My lady, my lord, Stevens tells me Mollie has gone to the market for Cook.”
“Thank you,” Selina said. She looked at Henry. “Now what?”
“I suggest we question some other servants until she returns.”
They interviewed Cook, the housekeeper, Mrs. Dennison, then two maids and a footman before Mollie entered the room, her face flushed and a concerned countenance. She dipped a curtsy. “My lady, my lord, Cook said you wished to speak with me?”
“Yes, Mollie.” Henry waved to the chair across from where they both sat on a settee. “Please have a seat.”
She gingerly took a seat, her face quite pale, her fingers twisting in her lap.
“Don’t be nervous, Mollie. We just want to ask you a few questions. You are not in trouble,” Henry said.
The girl did not relax, which seemed normal since being questioned by two members of the nobility in her employer’s house would throw any servant into a tizzy.
“I understand that you have a friendship with John Coachman?”
Her blush rose from the top of her very modest gown to her hairline. “No, my lord. I would never do anything improper.”
Selina held her hand up to Henry to stop him. “His lordship does not intend to indicate anything improper is going on, believe me. We just thought he might have shared things with you that will help us locate Lord Crampton.”
It was smart of Selina to not mention Phoebe or why they wanted to find Lord Crampton. Even the most loyal of servants gossiped.
“I don’t know too much, my lady. John did happen to mention to me”—she cast Selina a glance under lowered eyelids—"that he was taking his lordship to the shops and then he would be needed to drive him to an inn not far outside of town. He didn’t expect to return today, I don’t believe.”
At last they had information they could use. “You would not by any chance know which inn he was stopping at, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, my lord. He never said.”
Henry smiled at the young girl. “Thank you so much, Mollie. You have been a help.”
“May I go?” She looked more than anxious to leave their presence.
“Yes. You may return to your duties. And thank you again.”
The girl rose and scurried from the room. Henry turned to Selina. “At least we have a lead.”
“But, Henry, there are dozens of inns outside of London. We don’t even know in which direction they went.” The fatigue on her face was beginning to concern him.
He tapped his chin with his finger. “I have an idea.” He left the room and sought out the butler again. “Can you please summon Lord Crampton’s valet once again?”
“Yes. Of course.” The man made his way up the stairs as Henry returned to the drawing room.
Selina sat on the settee, her head resting on the back of the sofa, her hands loose in her lap, her eyes closed, and based on her heavy breathing, fast asleep. He allowed her the rest, and right before the door opened to admit Spencer, a thought raced through his mind that had his brows flying toward his hairline and his stomach twisting in knots.
“You wished to see me again, my lord?”
His head whipped toward the door as his heart thudded. “Yes.” He nudged Selina, who opened her eyes and looked around. “Spencer, please have a seat.” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t lose control now. Not until he spoke with Spencer and then had Selina alone.
“Do you happen to know what inn your employer prefers when he travels outside of London?”
The man didn’t take long to answer the question. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. We always stay at the White Horse Inn. It is not too far outside of London, but Lord Crampton seems to always be unable to leave early enough to put many hours in the first day when we travel, so we usually end up there.”
Henry hopped up and grabbed Selina’s hand. “Thank you, Spencer. You have been a great help.”
He dragged her out of the room, grabbed their belongings at the door from Stevens, and hurried down to his carriage.
“Henry, for heaven’s sake, you are dragging me along.”
Sweat dripped down his back as he helped Selina into the carriage, gave instructions to the driver, settled across from her, and slammed the door.
“Whatever is the matter with you, Henry?” She straightened her skirts and glared at him.
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Then he moved across the space and sat alongside her, taking her hand in his. “Selina, I must ask you a very personal question.”
“You are behaving quite strangely, Henry.”
“Indeed. I am feeling quite strange, truth be known.”
She shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a yawn. “What is your question?”
He swallowed a few times, then cupped her cheeks and looked her in the eye. “When was the last time you had your courses?”
Chapter 14
Selina stared at him. In a matter of moments her expression went from puzzled, to thoughtful, to surprised, to happy, to tears. “Oh, my goodness. I am ruined! My girls are ruined! I’ve ruined their lives. They will never make a successful match. They will die unhappy spinsters unless I bury myself in the country and let Lady Penrose see to their come-out. If she will, that is. She probably won’t because I’m ruined.”
She threw herself into his arms and sobbed. Then she pulled away and glared at him. “This is all your fault.”
“My apologies, madam, but how is this all my fault? The last time I gave this any consideration at all, it took two people to create a child.”
“A child, Henry!” She beat his chest. “How can I be having a child? I am too old.”
“Indeed? How old are you, Selina?”
“Five and thirty. Even you said,” she glowered at him, “that I am no longer young.” She took the handkerchief he handed her and blew her nose. She might be five and thirty, but at the moment she looked more like her daughters’ age.
She dropped her head into her hands. “What shall I do? This is terrible.”
“Pardon me, my dear, but I think the creation of a child is a wonderful thing.”
Raising her head, she scowled. “Not under these circumstances.”
He took her chin between his thumb and index finger. “Under any circumstances, a babe is a precious thing.”
“Oh, Henry, you are such a wonderful father.” She dropped her head into her hands again. “What will I do?”
Henry looked out the window. They had almost reached the end of town. It would be less than an hour before they reached their destination. “There is no ‘you,’ Selina. We are in this together, and we will solve the issue together. Now, you will calm yourself and be prepared to confront Crampton and get Phoebe back. Right now our biggest concern is making sure she is not ruined.”
“How can you say that? If what we suspect is true, I will give birth to a bastard.”
“No!” He took her ice-cold hands in his. “This child could very well be a boy, and therefore, my only heir. He will not be born a bastard.”
She flung herself into his arms again. He remembered from when his deceased wife carried his girls how unpredictable her behavior had been. Apparently, all women behaved in this mystifying manner when increasing.
He gathered her into his arms and rested her head on his chest. Within minutes, she was sound asleep. He smiled. Could not help it. This was a mess, true, but a child! At his age. Well, he wasn’t all that old, merely six and forty.
A bastard.
No child of his would be born with that moniker. He had no idea how this would be resolved, but Selina would not bear his child while unwed.
The carriage slowed and rocked as it rode over holes in the ground when they approached the White Horse Inn. Henry had not been to this inn before, but from the looks of how poorly the grounds were kept, it didn’t appear he had missed anything.
He tapped Selina on her cheek. “Wake up, sweetheart. We’re at the inn.”
<
br /> She smiled at him, her face flushed from sleep, and his heart turned over. He had no idea where they would go from here, but he loved her and would protect her from scandal. As well as their child.
* * *
Lord Crampton breathed a sigh of relief when Phoebe opened her eyes. Her lashes fluttered and she looked around the room with confusion. “Where am I?” She sat up, then pressed her hand to her head. “Goodness, I’m dizzy.”
“Perhaps you should lie back down again.”
She did as he suggested but scowled at him. “Whatever were you thinking? Do you presume kidnapping me will benefit you in some way?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do. Once we are discovered together, you will be ruined and forced to marry me. I will then have control of your money.”
She eased herself back up, leaning on the headboard. “What money? I have none, and you received it all when Papa died.”
He snorted. “I received the entailed properties but no money.”
She looked genuinely surprised. “Where did it all go?”
“To you. And your sister.”
“That is not possible.” She shrugged. “Mama had to work as a chaperone to support us after Papa died. If you have no money, then there is no money,”
“If you think you are so sure of yourself, perhaps you might look into it further. That is why you must marry me.”
“I have no intention of marrying you.”
“You will once word gets out. And I will make sure it does.”
Phoebe waved her hand. “You are delusional. No matter how horrible this looks, I will not marry you.”
Crampton leaned forward. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t he kidnapped the more timid sister? But then he knew why. This scheme of his would lead to marriage, and he felt a more spirited girl would be a better idea for when he had to leave Greece and return to start his nursery. “You mother will not allow you to face a scandal.”
“My mother will not allow me to marry you.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, holding onto the bed post. “You must leave now.”
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