by Amanda Davis
“Oh, Mother…”
“When James was born, I knew your father was pleased. He was gentler for a time, happy that I had given him a marquis for the duchy.”
She smiled, a faraway look in her eyes as if she was in a better time.
“He did not strike out at me as much. I had hoped the worst was over.”
She sighed.
“But, of course, I was naïve. Once you were conceived, the beatings began again. I nearly lost you twice because of his temper.”
The information was horrific, and Lise wished Patience would stop, but it was clear that her mother needed to spill the terrible pain that had built inside her for years.
“Perhaps, in a terrible way, that made us closer, you and I, Lise. I would do anything to protect you, and somehow, I knew you were a girl before you were born. Sometimes, mothers know such things.”
“I imagine,” Lise murmured, her throat scratchy as she spoke. She feared she would burst into sobs.
“I always knew that James would survive his father. The duke doted on him, and when you were very small, he did on you, too. It was not until you became inquisitive, questioning his authority, that he realized that you were not going to be his submissive daughter forever. It infuriated him, but it gave me hope for the first time, Lise. I saw a fire inside you that I once had, and it inspired me to do better for both of us.”
Lise felt as though she was looking at her mother with different eyes.
“I love your father,” Patience continued. “Perhaps not in the romantic way that you love Xavier but I, too, understand the despair of knowing you lost your husband.”
Pain pierced Lise’s heart, and she squeezed Patience’s hand tightly.
“I am sorry for what you had to endure for this,” Patience whispered. “Know I did not want you to hurt after all your father has done to you.”
“I know, Mama,” Lise breathed. “I know.”
Yet even with the duchess’s heartfelt words, the explanation and the absolute certainty that all she said was true, nothing could take away the deep sense of loss in Lise’s gut.
You must forsake Xavier and the Balfour Hotel. There is nothing that can be done to make this right. Going forward, it will simply be Mother and I against the world.
Chapter Twelve
The horse neighed with irritation as Xavier dismounted, leaving Elias to hurry after him.
“Xavier, I do not think this is a sound idea. If they are here, which I doubt very much, the duchy guards will see you off.”
“If you are concerned about your health, I suggest you remain back,” Xavier hissed. “No one asked you to accompany me here.”
“Contrary to your beliefs, Xavier, I am your comrade and your family. I would not leave you to confront the duke on your own.”
“You are not my family!” Xavier snarled, whirling short of the gates. “You are merely the man who snaked his way into my family to steal away our hotel.”
Elias gaped at him and laughed shortly.
“I had no idea that you felt this way,” he said quietly. “But I assure you, that is hardly the case. I am a part of your family because I love your sister. I never had any interest in the hotel.”
“A likely tale,” Xavier growled. “One which can wait for another time.”
He stalked toward the gates and pushed his way inside.
“Are you coming or not?” Xavier demanded.
“Of course, I am.”
The men made their way up the pathway, leading toward Pinehaven, keenly aware of their surroundings.
“None of this makes sense,” Xavier muttered. “Look at how she lived here. Why would she steal from us?”
He was speaking more to himself than his brother-in-law, but Elias answered.
“Perhaps the duchy has fallen upon hard times. Perhaps the duke sent her to do his bidding.”
“The duke has been in absentia. I feel as though the duchess is the mastermind of this enterprise.”
He thought of Lise’s nearness, of her bright smile and sad eyes. It was impossible to reconcile that she had been acting, pretending to love him to steal a few pounds.
Unless she intended to steal more.
He realized that she had been there that morning when Joshua had announced his father demanded to see Xavier.
Perhaps we simply learned about her scheme too early.
“Who is there?” A liveried butler opened the door and peered speculatively at the duo. “Identify yourselves at once!”
“Mr. Xavier Balfour and Mr. Elias Compton of Luton. We have urgent business with the Duke of Holden.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“He is not, but the matter pertains to Her Grace and Lady Elizabeth.”
The butler’s eyes widened.
“Do you know where they are?” he asked in a hushed voice, his watery eyes darting about nervously. “Are they well?”
Xavier and Elias exchanged a look and shook their heads in unison.
“We are also seeking their whereabouts,” Xavier replied slowly. “Is the Duke available?”
“I will announce you,” the old man replied, ushering them inside. “Remain here, please.”
He shuffled away and they looked about the opulent foyer with interest.
“You see?” Xavier rasped. “There is much to sell here. There is no reason for such a theft.”
“Perhaps that is how they afford so much luxury—thieving from unsuspecting households,” Elias offered. Xavier glowered at him, but before he could respond, the butler returned.
“His Grace will see you,” he mumbled but paused. The men looked at him expectantly.
“His Grace is rather…discontent today,” the servant muttered, but there was no chance to ask what that could mean for he ambled off down the hall.
“I am discontent today,” Xavier barked, and Elias grunted as they followed the butler.
“Your Grace,” the ancient man said, bowing, “may I present Mr. Alexander Heartling and Mr. Elmer Crampus of Loughborough.”
“Enter,” the duke snapped, waving them inside.
“Forgive us, Your Grace. I am Xav—”
“I heard who you are. What I do not know is what you want,” the Duke of Holden snarled. “Where are my wife and daughter?”
“Your Grace, I am Xavier Balfour,” Xavier said to him, but the name seemed to mean nothing to the nobleman.
“How many times must we go through introductions? I asked you a question!”
Xavier cast Elias a sidelong look. The duke was a miserable character of poor disposition, but he seemed to have no idea who it was who stood before him.
“Your Grace, I am Lady Elizabeth’s husband.”
The duke’s face twisted into a sneer as he looked at Xavier.
“Is this a joke?” he asked, looking to Elias. “I have not any time for such ridiculousness.”
“It is not a joke, Your Grace, I assure you. Your wife and daughter have stolen a substantial sum from my hotel and fled, thereby abandoning the marital home.”
Confusion quickly turned to ire, and the duke rose, slamming his fists against the desk to cause the contents atop to shake.
“What are you suggesting?” the duke hissed. “That my wife, the duchess, and my daughter are common criminals?”
“I suggest nothing. I came here hoping to confront my wife on the matter, but I can plainly see they would not return here.”
“You are mad,” the duke insisted but as he spoke. Xavier saw a cold terror falling over his face.
“If they do return, Your Grace, will you send word to the Balfour Hotel in Luton?”
The duke’s head jerked up.
“I know of your hotel. I was there once many years ago.”
“Then you will know where to send word,” Xavier said curtly. “Good day.”
He bowed and turned to leave with Elias on his heels.
“Do you believe him?” Elias asked. “It was difficult to tell with his causticness.”
“He is not a pleasant fellow, is he?”
“He is a horse’s arse, but that is not my concern at the moment.”
“What is your concern?” Elias demanded. “The money is not substantial. We will recover from that loss.”
Xavier eyed him and shook his head.
“Do you think I care about the money?” he asked in disbelief. “My only concern is finding Lise and bringing her home.”
Elias wisely closed his mouth as they mounted their horses, but Xavier did not need to be told what his brother-in-law was thinking.
He believes I am daft for chasing after her. Perhaps he is right.
Yet Xavier knew he would not rest until he looked his wife in the eye and learned why she had done it.
She cannot lie to me. I will know when I ask her face to face.
“Will we return to home?” Elias asked.
“No. We will go to Whittaker.”
James, the Marquis of Holden, lived in Holden with his wife, Lady Lydia. While his father was brash and rude, Lord Holden was much more amiable with a softer tone and concerned eyes of chocolate.
He looked very little like his sister, but neither sibling seemed to resemble either parent.
“My word, you cannot be sincere!” Lady Holden cried in disbelief. “Have they run off together then?”
“We cannot be certain, but it appears so,” Xavier muttered, disappointed that they had not found the pair with the marquis.
“This does not sound like anything my sister could do,” Lord Holden insisted. “Are you certain they are not simply imposters, pretending to be my mother and sister?”
“Quite,” Elias sighed. “We performed our due diligence upon the engagement.”
“Obviously not well enough if neither I nor my father was invited to the wedding!”
Xavier flushed at the reminder of how blindly he had allowed Lise into his life.
“I cannot fault them,” Lady Holden announced, setting her teacup against the table with a firm smash. “Your father—”
“That is quite enough, my lady,” James interrupted, his face turning as red as Xavier’s.
“What of the duke?” Elias pressed, unabashed. “Please, if it will help bring them home…”
He stared imploringly at the couple.
“You will not bring them home if they are running,” Lydia said flatly, and again her husband gave her a scathing look.
“Why is that?” Xavier asked. Only silence met his question, and his frustration mounted.
“Please! This was not a scheme for me! She is my wife, whether or not she believed that when she married me. I deserve to know why she would do this, particularly if this is out of character for her.”
Lydia and James exchanged a long look, but it was James who spoke this time.
“My father has a rather infamous temper,” the marquis muttered.
“He is a brute and a bully,” Lydia added despite James’ withering gaze.
“If Mother and Lise would not provoke him, he would not be forced to use his fists so freely,” James growled.
“Are you suggesting they took the money because the duke beats them?”
Lydia nodded slowly.
“It is the only explanation I can imagine. The duchy is very well off. There is no need to steal. It seems they had concocted an elaborate ruse to ensure they were not easily found by our peers,” she offered, and Xavier felt sick to his stomach.
Or did my mother arrange for all this in her psychosis?
It was impossible to know who had gotten the matter underway.
“How much was taken from your hotel, Mr. Balfour? I would like to reimburse you,” Lord Holden sighed, nodding toward his manservant, but Xavier was already on his feet and moving toward the door.
“That is a matter for me and my wife,” he said grimly. “I thank you for your time and candor. Come along, Mr. Compton.”
“Where are we going now, Xavier? It is getting dark.”
“We are going home,” Xavier sighed. There was only one last person with whom to speak.
His mother.
Anne was dancing with herself when Xavier entered her bedchambers.
“Oh, darling!” she laughed. “I thought you would never come. When will we have a party again? Your reception was so lovely.”
“Mother, where did the duchess go?” he demanded. “I know you and she have spent a great deal of time together.”
The smile faded from Anne’s face, and she stared at him in surprise.
“Go?” she echoed. “She is not going anywhere. She is staying right here at the hotel, away from that wretched husband, who beats upon her and her daughter.”
Xavier’s mouth gaped open.
“You knew of that?” he choked.
“Of what?”
“Mother! You must stay focused and tell me what you discussed with the duchess.”
Anne’s brow furrowed slightly and she sank onto her bed, her white nightgown spread around her.
“She was looking so forward to your wedding,” Anne recalled, reaching toward the vanity with trembling hands. Her fingers closed around a wine glass, and she gulped back a big sip before continuing.
“It was why I chose her,” she whispered slyly, leaning in as if disclosing a big secret. “She loathes her husband as much as I loathe mine.”
“Mother!”
Anne snickered and took another sip of wine, plopping the glass unceremoniously back onto the desk. She grinned almost lewdly at her son.
“Do not tell me you have been visiting the brothels again and your wife has left you already.”
“Mother, the duchess and Elizabeth have run away. Do you know where they might have gone?”
Anne’s face crumpled, and she shook her head.
“No,” she slurred. “They would not run off. I promised Patience that she would be safe here.”
“Safe from the duke?”
“Why would she go? Did your father send them away?”
“No, Mother,” he sighed, but to his dismay, large tears filled Anne’s drunken eyes.
“She was my friend,” Anne moaned in the most heartbreaking manner. “Why did she leave? What happened?”
“I think she was afraid of the duke, Mother,” Xavier muttered, the sad reality of what had truly happened washing through him in a torrent.
“Men ruin us all,” Anne muttered, curling onto her side as tears slipped down her face. She seemed very much a small child at that moment, but Xavier wished he, too, could do the same.
He had lost his wife even before he knew who she was, truly.
I did not ask. I knew something troubled her from the first day I laid eyes upon her, yet I did nothing.
Suddenly, Xavier was furious. He was furious with his mother for withholding the information, furious with the duke for scaring her away, furious with the duchess for arranging such a plan.
Yet, above all, Xavier was furious with himself for allowing it all to occur the way it had.
Now she is long gone, and you will never see her again.
Chapter Thirteen
“You may escape his wrath, Lise, but I will not. I cannot return to Luton with you.”
The echo of her mother’s voice caused her heart to twist with every replay of the words as the coach made its way through the countryside toward the place where she swore she would never return.
It was difficult to believe that four months had passed since she had last been in Luton, but the sweetness of early summer tantalized her nose, and she knew she was not dreaming the feeling of sick anticipation in her stomach.
Luton loomed beyond, and for a fleeting moment, Lise considered riding onward, but she had only paid enough to get her that far.
It had been a harrowing four months, the constant moving about, the nagging fear of being seen and reported. From town to town they moved, finding od
d jobs where they could but never staying anywhere for longer than a fortnight.
“Mother, we cannot keep running,” Lise told her miserably. “We have little money, and I am growing weary.”
“We cannot return,” Patience told her with just as much conviction. “We have been gone two months. There is no excuse for it. He will murder us both.”
“What if we return to Luton and beg the Balfours for help,” Lise implored her, a wave of dizziness striking her. “At this rate, we will find ourselves in a grave regardless.”
The duchess scoffed at her.
“How do you think those without manor houses live, child? We will find our own way somehow.”
“They live with husbands who provide a living for them. I have no issue with the work, but we cannot find stability if we are constantly moving!”
It was an argument they would have for another month.
But now there was nothing left to fight about, and as the coach slowed, Lise reluctantly rose to leave.
“Have you someone meeting you, Miss?” the coachman asked.
“I am going to the Balfour Hotel,” she replied dully. Saying the words aloud only caused her more anxiousness. The driver eyed her scornfully.
“No disrespect, Miss, but their standards are quite high for their employees. I daresay, if you are seeking employment as a chambermaid, you should pretty yourself up some.”
“Duly noted,” Lise muttered, reaching for her trunk. She grimaced at the weight and paused to look around.
“Lady Elizabeth?”
Her heart thudded at the sound of her name, and she turned as a young man hurried toward her, a wide smile on his face. The coachman overheard this.
“Off with you now,” the driver yelled. “Do not harass the women.”
“It is all right,” Lise assured him. “I know him.”
She smiled wanly at Joshua.
“Hello, Joshua.”
“I cannot believe it is you! Are you well? Here, permit me to take that.”
He reached for her trunk, and she shot him a grateful look.
