Chapter 20
It was almost ten at night by the time Nathaniel stepped out of the hackney that had driven him from the train station to Alice’s home.
Their home. Fatigue dragged at his legs after the long journey from Greystone Manor.
Despite his rush to leave, he had not been able to discharge all his duties and make sure Mr. Fletcher had all the instructions and information he needed to continue to mitigate the crop’s plague until well after midday.
He still had managed to catch the last train to London. Thus his arrival at this ungodly hour.
But it was worth it. Beneath the fatigue, a quickening pulse urged him forward as he let himself into their Kensington townhouse.
At this time, she would probably be working in the library.
Either poring over paperwork or knitting.
He smiled as he imagined the scene. Such a soft, quiet endeavor for a woman who was both sharp witted and adventurous.
The contrasts in her never ceased to amaze him.
He could spend a lifetime analyzing all her facets.
The door clicked softly behind him, and the familiar scent of beeswax polish and faint lavender enveloped him.
Home. Soon he’ll hold Alice in his arms again. God, he had missed her.
Setting his valise down in the hall, he grabbed a candle from the side table and lit it, shielding the flame from the draft. The house was silent. Was she sleeping already? Strange. She usually didn’t retire before midnight.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, eager for the sight of Alice curled in their bed, her dark hair loose over her pillow, her breathing deep and even in sleep.
He would wake her carefully. Startling an agent like Alice, who was skilled in self-defense, could be dangerous.
But he would be ready for her reaction, and he would savor the moment recognition set in.
Her eyes would soften and her lips would curve into that tender smile that had haunted him every night he had been away from her.
She might even scold him for not sending word ahead. He smiled faintly at the thought.
But when he pushed open the bedroom door, his smile faltered. The bed was perfectly made. Unwrinkled. The coverlet smoothed as if no one had lain upon it all day. The air in the room was still, undisturbed.
Nathaniel frowned. Where would she be at this hour?
Could she have stayed at his Mayfair townhouse?
Unlikely. He had come straight here, to their home, because even though he had left her at his townhouse, he didn’t really expect her to stay there.
He had been trying to get her to be more comfortable in his house, and had made some progress, but she still preferred their cozy home.
He couldn’t blame her. This home was all theirs.
Their little love nest, the place where they had been happy.
Of all the scenarios he had imagined upon returning, not finding her here was not a possibility.
But she wasn’t here.
To be sure, he searched the entire house, looking for any clue.
Any sign that she had been here recently and planned to come back soon.
He found one thing. Two empty cognac goblets sat on a table in the drawing room.
As if she had shared a nightcap with somebody.
A knot tightened in his gut. Where the devil was she?
There were no clues as to her whereabouts.
Nothing to indicate where she had gone and for how long.
Her valise was missing from its place in the wardrobe, the spot where she always kept it ready for sudden departures, but that didn’t tell him much.
Alice could well make do with the contents of the valise for two days or two months.
Could she have decided to stay at his Mayfair townhouse after all? The thought felt absurd. Still, he had to check.
Moments later, he hailed another hackney and made the short journey to Mayfair.
He paid the fare and jumped from the carriage, bounding up the steps two at a time.
The driver had barely pulled away before he was through the door using his key, without waiting for the footman.
The house was dark and quiet, the servants long abed and not expecting their master.
He strode upstairs, hoping against hope to find her curled beneath the covers. But no. As he feared, she hadn’t been here either. The room bore no trace of her presence.
The butler shuffled up to the door of the bedchamber, tufts of grey hair escaping from beneath his nightcap.
“My lord. We were not expecting you tonight, or we would have waited up for you. I hope you found your rooms adequately prepared.”
“Everything is fine, Wilson. Has Lady Greystone been here this past week?”
“Not since the morning you left, my lord. She left shortly after you and has not returned.”
It was no more than what he expected, but now he was more worried than ever.
If she was not at home, and not here, where the hell was Alice?
As far as he knew, she had no relatives she could be visiting.
He sincerely hoped she was not on some nocturnal mission by herself.
He had expressly told her not to do anything rash.
Surely Dalton wouldn’t condone it. Was it too late to call on Dalton?
He must know about his wife’s whereabouts. Unless…
Perhaps there was a message. The boy who kept watch on Alice’s comings and goings sometimes sent word.
He had not received a message from him in months.
And no wonder, with Ardmore being out of the country and Alice working a clerical job, there was nothing to report.
But if he had noticed any strange movement, like her leaving on a trip, surely he would have sent him a message, wouldn’t he? The boy liked his rewards.
“Has Master Benjamin come to call this past week, Wilson?”
“As a matter of fact, my lord, the lad was here just today. Left a message for you. His note is in your study with the rest of your correspondence.”
A chill slithered down his spine. A premonition of disaster.
His boots echoed down the hall as he stalked to his study. He rifled through the pile of correspondence, shoving aside crisply folded letters on heavy paper, until a scrap of rough paper caught his eye.
Unfolding it, he scanned the hurried scrawl:
“The gentleman returned. Your lady left with him at dawn.”
His fist crumpled the paper until his knuckles turned white.
Ardmore.
The name burned through his mind like acid.
Alice had left with Ardmore. Just days after Nathaniel had left her, after nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, after whispered words and tender touches that had felt like the first fragile steps toward rebuilding what they’d lost.
She had gone. With him.
Betrayal speared his chest so sharply he stumbled back against the desk, struggling for breath. The pain was staggering, suffocating. His wife. His beautiful, clever, deceitful wife—who had said she loved him—had left with another man.
Nathaniel dragged a hand over his face. How was he to recover from this? How could any man recover from learning that the woman he loved, the woman he had fought for, had run straight into the arms of her lover the moment he turned his back?
The candlelight wavered with his ragged breath. He braced his hands on the edge of the desk, head bowed, while fury and anguish waged an unholy war within him.
Had it all been a lie? The soft sighs and the screams of pleasure, the words of love murmured in the dark, the blinding passion they had shared? It couldn’t be. It felt too real. Nothing made sense. But one thing was clear; he wouldn’t rest until he got the answers he sought.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, he barged into Dalton’s office at Whitehall at the unfashionable hour of eight in the morning.
The duke was already there, as Nathaniel knew he would be. The man seemed to never sleep.
Dalton’s eyebrows shot up at the intrusion.
“Greystone. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, he stalked into Dalton’s office and dropped into one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Did you know Alice has gone off with Lord Ardmore to God knows where?”
Dalton finished signing a document before replying, testing his patience to the limit.
“Yes. She sent me a note yesterday to let me know she will be visiting Lord Ardmore’s estate because his father was dying.”
“And you didn’t think twice about letting her go off gallivanting with one of the suspects?”
The duke took a deep breath, closed the ledger in front of him and leaned back in his chair.
“I never truly believed John was implicated in this, and the more I think about it, the less likely it seems. For one, he has been out of the country for almost a year. True, it wouldn’t be impossible to run a conspiracy from abroad, but it would be extremely difficult.
And two, the man has no motives for selling information.
He doesn’t need money and has always been loyal and steadfast. Alice and I had been going through the possibilities, and there are other far more likely candidates. ”
“Oh, so she convinced you of his innocence, and you just let her go with him?”
“I didn’t ‘let’ her do anything. Alice is an independent woman and will do as she sees fit. She only informed me after the fact, but even if she had informed me beforehand, under the circumstances, I don’t think it would be my place to even object.”
“The circumstances being?”
“Lord Langford is dying.”
So Ardmore’s father was dying, and Alice had gone with her lover to visit him.
Out of pity? True caring? Or was she trying to ingratiate herself with the old marquess in the hopes of marrying Ardmore after Nathaniel divorced her?
No, that didn’t make any sense. All the problems in their marriage had started precisely because she didn’t want to be part of the aristocracy.
“How touching. A truly romantic deathbed scene. But I didn’t think it was the done thing to introduce your paramour to your dying father.”
“Paramour? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Are you going to pretend you didn’t know of their affair, oh omniscient spymaster? I overheard you talking to Alice about it.”
Dalton raised his eyebrows and leaned back
God, it hurt to say it. “Ardmore and Alice are lovers.”
The look of surprise on the duke’s face was priceless. Nathaniel had never seen his all-knowing, unflappable superior more flummoxed. If the subject were not so painful to him, he might find humor in the duke’s look of stupefaction.
“You are mistaken,” the duke finally said.
“I assure you I am not. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Good God, is that why you filed for divorce? Have you talked to Alice about your suspicions?”
“Not in so many words. I didn’t tell her I saw her with Lord Ardmore. But I have given her the chance to confess her infidelity and be forgiven.”
“And what did Alice say to that?”
“She denied it, of course. But I know what I saw.”
The duke shook his head, then leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk, saying emphatically. “You need to talk to your wife. You need to ask her specifically to explain her relationship with Lord Ardmore.”
For the first time since that horrible night when he had discovered Alice’s betrayal, he felt a prickle of doubt. Dalton was serious, and he was not a man given to gossip or fanciful notions. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at the other man.
“Do you know something I don’t?” Nathaniel asked.
Dalton nodded. “So it seems. I’m surprised Alice hasn’t shared the information with you.”
What was Dalton on about with all these cryptic statements? Nathaniel gnashed his teeth. “Just tell me what you know,” he gritted out.
But, to his eternal annoyance, Dalton just shook his head. “It’s not my place to reveal it. If she hasn’t told you herself, she might have her reasons. Or maybe it’s just pure idiocy on both of your parts. Either way. Talk. To. Your. Wife.”
“Oh, I intend to. As soon as she returns. Do you happen to know when that would be, since you appear better informed of my wife’s plans than I am?”
“Interesting. She said something similar about you just the other day when I told her I had received a telegram from you.”
“I sent her a telegram as well.”
Dalton shrugged. “I don’t think she received it. In any case, she said she would only be gone for two days, three maximum. So I expect she should be back tomorrow or the day after.”
Great. Another day or two of cooling his heels waiting for Alice.
But at least he now had something to cling to.
The conversation with Dalton, although frustratingly uninformative regarding Alice’s mysterious relationship with Ardmore, had provided a measure of calm.
There was something going on. Dalton knew what it was.
And he seemed to think it could be solved by talking to Alice.
He intended to do just that.