by Regina Darcy
“She is pale. A walk outside in the garden would do her good, I believe.”
James sighed. “Miss Wright, you defeat me. If you believe that Lady Georgette’s health is threatened, how can I refuse you? I must trust that you will remain at her side at all times.”
“Where else should I be?” Miss Wright asked. “Of course I will be at her side at all times when we walk in the garden.”
***
Georgette was grateful the next day when Miss Wright delivered the news that her request had been granted and that they could walk in the gardens.
“Oh, Miss Wright,” she said, “I am so obliged to you. I feel as if I have become very weak without daily exercise. I hope that I shall not embarrass myself when we are outside.”
“I am sure that you shall not,” Miss Wright assured her. “You are not sedentary here and you walk back and forth upon the balcony, do you not?”
“Oh, yes, but it is not at all the same thing. Tell me, is there a chill in the air? I don’t wish to become ill.”
“It is a very pleasant day for a stroll in the gardens,” Miss Wright assured her. “Your shawl and hat are all that you will require.”
She was concerned, however, when they went outside and Georgette asked to take her arm.
“I do not know why I should feel so weak,” Georgette said, out of breath.
“We shall sit down here on this bench until you recover your strength, milady,” Miss Wright said.
She found it cause for alarm that a young woman in health should be so weakened by the walk from the house to the grounds. True, the land was steep in spots, and it was perhaps an exertion for a person who had been kept inside for an extended period of time. But she had not thought that Lady Georgette was frail.
“Miss Wright . . . I feel as if I might faint. Would you mind . . . oh, I do not feel at all well . . . could you return to my chamber for smelling salts? I shall stay here, indeed, I cannot think of getting up.”
Forgotten was the Duke’s injunction that she was to remain at the young lady’s side at all times when they were outside.
“I shall be as fast as I can, milady,” Miss Wright vowed. “Please lean back against the bench so that you do not fall . . . I shall return swiftly.”
Georgette closed her eyes.
“Please hurry,” she said in a weak voice.
But as soon as Miss Wright was out of sight and no longer on the grounds, a remarkable transformation took place. Georgette stood up and without pause, began to stride toward the stables. Her days on the balcony had provided her with an excellent view of the grounds and she wasted no time in crossing the length of the garden. It was a time of day when the stables would be empty of grooms and she would be able to take one of the horses and make her escape.
Intent upon her advance, she did not look behind her. If she had, she would have seen the Duke making his way to the stable. He had decided that it was time for him to procure the evidence that would be needed in order for him to convince Georgette that she had been deceived to place her trust in Viscount Lathan. But he halted for a moment when he saw his captive, on her own, with no escort and Miss Wright nowhere in sight, entering the stable.
James was a tall man and in no time at all he was inside the stable. Georgette was in front of the first stall, rubbing the nose of the horse inside so that he would not be alarmed when she felt a hand grab her wrist. She whirled around to see the Duke standing there, looking miffed.
“Are you lost, my Lady?” he inquired. “Have you wandered from the garden and now find yourself uncertain about your location? Where is Miss Wright?”
“Is she my warden?” Georgette demanded, startled by his appearance.
“She is to protect you. But she has failed in that task, or else you have deceived her. Therefore it is upon me to protect you and that, I shall certainly do.”
He lifted her up, tossed her over his shoulder, keeping one arm firmly gripping her about the knees so that she could not kick him.
The household servants were wide-eyed as they watched their master approach the house from the servants’ entrance, just as Miss Wright was coming out, smelling salts in her hand.
“I have brought the smelling salts,” Miss Wright called, then stopped abruptly.
“As you can see,” the Duke said, shifting Georgette so that she was draped around his neck, one hand holding fast to her wrists, the other arm clasping her indelicately but purposefully below her thighs, “she is no longer feeling faint. In fact, I venture to say that she has recovered admirably. I shall bring her up to her room and there shall be no more garden strolls.”
“But—Lady Georgette . . . ” Miss Wright was unaccustomed to uncertainty and her voice betrayed her state. “She—my lady, you said you were weak and about to faint . . .”
The Duke restrained the struggling Georgette, draped around his neck like a wriggling collar. “Obviously,” he said, “Lady Georgette lied. Let that be a lesson to you. If she is breathing, she is not in distress, nor is she in need of smelling salts. What she needs is a room with a locked door and that is what she shall have.”
He carried Georgette back to her chamber, opened the door, kicked it shut and deposited her to the floor.
“I have not locked you in before,” he said. “I have trusted you. It is apparent that I was foolish to do so. You took advantage of Miss Wright. Another employer might choose to sack her on the spot and she would be without a livelihood. You might think of these things when next you feign illness.”
“You – you nameless carriage driver, you have no right to make me a prisoner and it is you who are at fault for making Miss Wright my gaoler!” she retorted.
Her hair had come undone. Colour had been restored to her pale cheeks and her eyes were snapping angry green fire.
Fury and dishevelment suited her, he thought, as unwelcome desire coursed through his veins. She was much more invigorated now than he had ever seen her before and it was with a measure of satisfaction that he realised how deprived that fool Lathan was, never having witnessed his docile fiancée in such a state.
Then he remembered how close she had come to escaping and his calm exterior was shattered. With no preamble he pulled her close, so they were only a breath apart.
“I have the right of a man who intends to see that you are safe and not abused or injured by those to whom you have mistakenly given your trust!” he reposted in an icy-cold voice. “And my name is James.”
He left the room in angry strides before he did what he really yearned to do. Which would be to claim her completely and utterly.
SEVEN
It was an angry Georgette who paced back and forth upon the balcony that afternoon, looking below to the gardens that had been so briefly her hope of escape. She had been so careful as she made her plans for escape, deliberately creating a ruse where Miss Wright would believe her to be weakened and in need of care. She had gauged the amount of time that it would take to reach the stable and mount a horse that would take her to freedom. She had planned everything like a general in battle and she felt as if she had been ambushed by the man she knew as James.
Who was he? It was apparent that he was no pauper. His house was magnificent, his household well-staffed, the grounds exquisitely maintained. He was a man who took charge and was not used to being denied, that much was clear. But who was he and why had he concocted a ridiculous tale accusing the Viscount of owing him an amount of money which would be difficult for anyone to repay?
What on earth did he mean when he claimed that she was in danger from people that she trusted?
What did he know of her, the people she trusted, or the circumstances which inspired that trust?
He knew nothing.
He did not know Valerie Duncan, her boarding school friend, who had taken on the task of exploring the background and character of Viscount Lathan and had determined that he was a gentleman.
He knew nothing of the Viscount and making such heinous accusations against a
man who had never done him harm was unpardonable.
She had lived a private life, it was true, and a solitary one in many respects, but she was not a fool. If she was in danger, it was the fault of a madman who had kidnapped her when she was en route to her wedding. Her stomach churned with anxiety and frustration.
Her meals were brought to her now by a stolid footman who was polite but uncommunicative. It was pointless to inquire of the footman when she would be released; his answer was “I’m only to bring your meals, milady,” produced in a monotone. The meals were cooked as well as ever and the offerings, if she had an appetite, would have been tasteful, but her enforced isolation dulled any joy she would have taken in eating.
She missed Miss Wright and wondered what had happened to her. Had her imperious captor given the lady’s maid the sack because she had fallen for Georgette’s ploy? If so, he was even more of a tyrant than Georgette supposed him to be. Miss Wright had only been seeing to Georgette’s welfare and it was not her fault that the entire scenario had been manufactured.
Georgette even missed the visits from James himself, as much as she despised him, anxiety laced through her again. Surely she wasn’t mourning the loss of his presence? Her mind chid away from the thought. No that wasn’t it.
It was just that he had brought vitality with his presence and the daily chess matches, which she won although not as often as he did, still it added a zest to the peculiarly riveting response which he summoned from her, when she did. She enjoyed besting him.
Now, he did not come to see her either and she spent her days either reading in the small library nook which adjoined her bedchamber, or on the balcony, watching as the groundskeepers, grooms, and kitchen servants went back and forth on their various errands. Sometimes she saw James on his way to the stable; he never looked up, as if she were not even there. She bit her lower lip.
Georgette would have had some of her anxiety alleviated had she known that Miss Wright had not been let go; she had merely been appropriated for another task. Realising that in order to convince his beguiling prisoner that she was safer in his care than she would have been at her would-be husband’s estate, the Duke had embarked upon an investigation, which required her assistance.
***
Miss Wright, who had been contrite about receiving blame for Lady Georgette’s near-escape, was gratified when the Duke told her that he had another job for her.
“I have told you what I know of Viscount Lathan, and what I have learned,” he told her after Lady Georgette was returned to her room and placed under lock and key. “Now I must prove it. I need someone who is meticulous in organising, diligent in attention to detail, and abundantly resourceful in order to bring this about. I believe that you are that person.”
Miss Wright hid her surprise that the Duke had guessed that her capabilities extended beyond a talent for curling a lady’s hair and quickly mending a tear in a ballgown. She was, as it happened, the daughter of a country lawyer who had helped her father in his work despite the fact that such labour was considered beyond the capacity of a woman.
Miss Wright was assigned to develop a strategy that would unmask the perfidy of the Viscount and his mistress. She set to this task with alacrity, both because of its intellectual challenge and, more importantly, because she did not wish Lady Georgette to come to harm or to remain under the impression that Viscount Lathan was an upstanding gentleman.
She soon sent word that she had devised a campaign to expose the misdeeds of the Viscount and the identity of his mistress.
“I believe, Your Grace, that the two must certainly have remained in communication, if not in actual contact,” she said when the Duke asked her to come to his study to outline her plan. “If you can set someone to follow him, it should not be difficult to determine where he goes and when he visits the woman.”
“Easily done,” the Duke said approvingly.
“If the Viscount has debts, then it stands to reason that he has debtors. They are under no vow to protect him and it should not be a hardship to discover how much he owes and to whom he owes it. I realise that no-one of note may consider debts to a tailor or a butcher of significant,” she said with a faint note of cynicism in her voice, “but debts to the moneylenders will certainly raise alarm. Have you anyone in your employ who could find out this information?”
“My staff is regrettably noble and upright,” he said. “I, however, will lurk about the gambling hells and the dens of iniquity to fret out this information.”
“It may be dangerous milord.”
The Duke smiled.
“I hope so. Life is uncommonly dull of late, now that I am not competing against Lady Georgette in chess. I shall relish a bit of danger. And I shall take care to have a knife and a pistol within reach,” he assured her.
“Does your roster of servants run to robbers?”
“My experience has been sadly lacking in that skill, but I suppose I ought to acquire the knack. What must I rob and from whom?”
“Your Grace,” she said gently, “you are a tall man, rather taller than average, and if you will allow, a man of distinction. A robber who wishes to be successful in stealing the love letters that the Viscount has sent to his mistress, once we have identified her, must be inconspicuous.”
“You are convinced that she would keep the letters?”
“She would want them for proof of his love,” Miss Wright said. “Even though they would, if found, incriminate both of them, she would need that reassurance while she waited for him to be free. Yes, I think she has the letters.”
James nodded. Miss Wright was astute. When this episode had concluded, he intended to find employment for her which suited her unique talents. In the meantime, he would proceed with her suggestions and place her in charge of the pursuit of the evidence.
The wager with Captain Kent was of little significance now, except to Kent, who likely was devising ways of making the claim that a missing bride cancelled the original wager between himself and James.
How long ago that meeting at White’s seemed now.
Although the Summersby staff were, as their master had said, notable for their integrity and loyalty to the Duke, James did not lack for contacts in a realm of nuanced morality. His youth as a military officer had introduced him to men of particular talents who, upon return to civilian life, did not necessarily find employment which would have pleased their superiors. Men who were not of the same social standing as Captain Kent and therefore, much more flexible.
From this pool of acquaintances, James hired a resourceful sergeant of middle years, wounded in Portugal, who was adept at doing odd jobs.
James set him to following the Viscount, to remaining close to the Viscount’s house in town and finding out where he went when he left it.
Another man, an engaging youth with the seraphic countenance of an angel and the ethics of the devil, was set to the task of exploring the darker sites of London where a reprobate’s secrets would be stored. Miss Wright had managed, with deft staging, to convince the Duke that it would not benefit his own reputation where he to suddenly be spotted in locations better suited to those men who, like Lathan, had need of services which would not meet with the approval of either the ton or the magistrate.
“And now?” James demanded.
“Now, we wait,” Miss Wright replied.
They were in his study.
Miss Wright, having risen from the rank of lady’s maid to an advisor, was, along with Updike and the Duke, planning subsequent actions over a bottle of wine. She was self-disciplined in this as she appeared to be in everything else and Updike found that, despite his prejudices against women meddling in the matters best left to men, she was uncommonly shrewd in her thinking.
“How fares Lady Georgette?” Updike asked.
“She is safe,” James replied brusquely. He remained irked at her attempted escape, but there was more to his ill-humour than that.
He did not understand it.
He found him
self thinking about her during the day, missing their banter. It was ludicrous. As soon as this business was concluded and he had returned the viper-tempered Lady Georgette to her father, James decided that he would try Scotland again. It would have to stop raining there eventually and perhaps he could get in some decent fishing.
“She must be bored,” Miss Wright commented. “She is an intelligent young woman. She is not, to be sure, acquainted with the manners of the fashionable set, but I think that she will be more discerning when she considers marriage.”
James gave Miss Wright a contrary stare.
“What do you mean?”
“Only that I think Lady Georgette will recover from the discovery that the Viscount is not what she thought him to be and once she does, she will entertain the prospect of marriage with a more critical eye. Her father is a member of Parliament, is he not? Perhaps he shall introduce her to some up-and-coming member of the government, someone who will appreciate her personality more than the Viscount would have done. Of course, it will take some time for her to regain her confidence after this terrible ordeal.”
“What terrible ordeal would that be?” James asked suspiciously. He had learned that, while Miss Wright was forthright in her thinking, she was nimble in her speech.
“She is not ill-treated here.”
“No, to be sure, she is not. But she is not free.”
“If she were free, she would be dead.”
“That, too, is a terrible matter to contemplate, is it not?” Miss Wright stated gravely. “No matter how one looks at it, she has had an experience which would alter the most self-assured of women. Which she is not.”
“She seems to know her own mind,” James retorted with a frown. “I should not describe her as timid or lacking in confidence. When we met across the chessboard, I assure you that she displayed none of the conventional demure femininity which a man becomes used to after an excess of debutante balls.”
