Chapter Nine
Early the next morning, Jack, in riding clothes, entered the breakfast room, where Harry tucked into a plate piled with eggs, bacon, sausage and kidneys, and Lady Erina buttered toast.
“Good morning.” Lady Erina smiled. “Excellent weather for our journey, Captain Ryder.”
“Let’s hope the rain holds off,” he replied. Beyond the window, the sky was uninterrupted blue above the treetops, but sunny skies could not be relied upon.
Having received a subdued greeting from Harry, Jack eyed him as he sat considering his food with intense interest. “I trust you slept well?”
When they both rushed to assure him they had, Jack looked from one to the other.
Something had occurred between them. It must have been earlier this morning, or late last night, which would mean…
No, these two had not reached that stage in their relationship.
And might never, if this whole escapade could be kept from the gossip rags.
Hadn’t Harry been less than enthusiastic about the match?
But if he had decided to marry Lady Erina, then it would happen as surely as the sun rose in the east, as Harry was fond of saying.
For he was just as dependable as the sun, usually.
It appeared that Harry had changed his mind about Lady Erina.
Strong emotion had brought him to this pass. Was it love?
Jack asked for coffee and investigated the hot dishes on the sideboard. He filled his plate with hot, steaming eggs, bacon, and kidneys while he considered his journey to London, and the lady he must leave behind.
As if he had conjured her up, Althea entered the room. He hadn’t expected her to appear after they’d parted in the early hours. She was pale and lovely, her unadorned black gown a perfect foil for her beauty. Every inch of him craved to be near her, to take her back to bed.
“I’m glad I caught you before you left,” she addressed Harry and Lady Erina, but her gaze flickered to Jack. Something in her eyes told him she had news. Jack saw her into her chair while the footman hurried to bring a fresh pot of tea.
“I welcome the opportunity to thank you and Lady Butterstone for your hospitality,” Harry said with a bow before regaining his seat.
“Especially at such a sad time,” Lady Erina added. “It was good of you and Lady Butterstone to welcome us into your home when we turned up at your door uninvited, Lady Althea.”
“Your cheerful company was a welcome distraction.” Althea smiled. “It will seem very quiet here after you’ve all gone.”
Sometime during the night, Althea had told Jack of her intention to return home to Lambourne Park in Oxfordshire after the funeral. She had lost one of her pet dogs, and the other tended to pine. And then there was her garden. “I sound most dreadfully dull,” she confessed.
Jack didn’t consider her dull in the least. He only wished he could share that life with her, but a bastard son of a duke couldn’t marry a marquess’s daughter.
He recalled her words in the dawn light before she’d left him: “I remain hopeful you’ll discover something, but if London sheds no light on my father’s death, let that be the end of it, Jack.”
“‘The end’?” he’d responded, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest.
“Yes. You will want to continue your journey, and I intend to live quietly in the country.”
She was right, of course, but it would be devilishly hard.
He felt enormous compassion for her. Appearing in society again after a period of mourning for her husband, she had now to grieve for her father and endure another six months in black crepe.
She was too young and lovely to spend her life alone, but he couldn’t contemplate her marrying another man without a sharp stab of jealousy.
He didn’t just find her desirable; what he felt for her was soul-deep.
After the group had finished their breakfast, a servant went to the stables with instructions for Harry’s curricle to be brought around to the front of the mansion.
When it arrived, Jack bowed to Lady Erina. “Safe journey.” He shook Harry’s hand. “And thank you for the evening clothes.”
“It was on our way. And was good to see you.” Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Life has a funny way of surprising us. Never know where or when we might meet again.”
Jack grinned. “Beware of the leprechauns, Harry. They’ll steal your money as soon as look at you.”
Harry laughed, acknowledging Jack’s gentle jibe without revealing anything more about his intentions. Harry is playing a game with a closed hand, Jack thought as his friend climbed into the curricle and took up the reins. Perhaps he didn’t know himself.
Lady Erina appeared nervous as she called goodbye from her seat beside her false “cousin.”
Harry touched his hat in a salute. “Walk on,” he called, setting the fine pair of chestnuts trotting away in perfect unison down the drive.
Althea turned from waving farewell. “I like your friend Mr. Feather and his cousin Lady Erina.” She raised her eyebrows. “Poor Mama was too distracted to give their relationship any consideration. If she’d been herself, they would have been shown the door.”
Jack smiled down at her. “And me too.”
She laughed. “Oh, no, she likes you.”
“It’s not what it might seem. It’s complicated; I don’t fully understand what’s in Harry’s mind. But thank you for your generosity in overlooking it and accepting them.”
“It was the least I could do.” Her gaze took in his riding boots, his leather breeches, cream shirt open at the neck, and black, cotton waistcoat. “Incognito again, Jack?”
He nodded with an amused smile. “You have learned something of interest?”
“Yes. Mama tells me that my father’s valet has sworn that Father’s luggage was searched at our townhouse in Mayfair before it left London.”
Jack stared at her. “Was the valise in the coach with him?”
Althea shook her head. “It would have been searched too, but they failed to find the diary.”
“Then it must be someone in your father’s employ.” He paused. “No one was close enough to him to know of his habit of keeping the diary secreted in his valise. Not his secretary, at any rate.”
“It seems so.”
“What staff remains in London?”
“House staff? The butler, Yates, two footmen, the housekeeper, Mrs. Muffat, Cook and the kitchen staff, housemaids, and the majordomo, Mr. Thacker. Father employed him more than a year ago. It was before we went to France. Yates suffers from lumbago and would require help while Father was away. He has been with the family for many years and is soon to retire. Mr. Thacker runs the household with startling efficiency, but he often tries Yates’s and Mrs. Muffat’s patience. ”
Jack nodded. “I’ll visit Butterstone Court.”
“I won’t delay you with questions. You can tell me all when we meet again.”
A groom appeared, leading Arion from the stables. The big chestnut swished his tail, eager to be off.
Jack buckled his portmanteau to the back of the saddle, then turned to her, wanting to kiss her goodbye. Instead, he kissed her hand.
Althea searched Jack’s eyes. “Take care, please.”
As he mounted Arion, a rider appeared on the carriage drive.
She shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare with a hand, watching as the man in footman’s garb rode closer. “He wears my uncle’s livery!”
The footman pulled the sweating horse to a stop and jumped down. He strode over to Althea, pulling a letter from his pocket. He held it out. “Good morning, Lady Althea. For Lady Butterstone.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze flew to Jack before she turned to the exhausted footman. “Cook will prepare you a meal after you’ve seen to your horse.”
With a deep bow, he led his horse away, but before he’d reached the corner, Althea had broken the seal of the letter.
The paper wavered in her nervous fingers.
She gasped. “My uncle has escaped his captors. He wishes to tell my mother that he is in good health and will explain as much as he can very soon.”
“What is Lord Caindale’s London address?”
“Rosemount House on Curzon Street.”
He looked forward to speaking to Lord Caindale. “I’ll leave you. Your mother will be relieved to learn that her brother is safe.”
Althea’s brow creased, her eyes somber. “Yes, she will.”
Jack swung into the saddle. He nodded to Althea, turned the horse, and cantered along the carriageway.
He intended to see Colonel Viscount Bascombe, a trusted friend of his father’s and a respected member of the government.
In Jack’s experience, an officer’s relationship with the army never ended, even after one had left it.
He would call at Bascombe’s domicile first, leave his card, and hope to see the gentleman during the day.
No telling what he might have heard concerning Bonaparte’s death.
Because somehow, he felt everything that had happened led back to that.
*
The curricle rattled along the Holyhead road toward Wales. They’d been traveling for hours, during which Harry had remained annoyingly taciturn. Erina glanced at his profile, missing the usual camaraderie between them. Even when they had argued, it had been strangely companionable.
She wriggled on the seat. Eager to begin their journey, she had dressed quickly and struggled with her stays.
At least her cream, wool pelisse hadn’t creased, nor her sage-green carriage gown, but her Italian straw hat was a little forlorn from being crammed into her bag, and she feared her hair was in danger of coming down. A lady’s maid certainly had her uses.
Another half hour passed with only monosyllabic replies from Harry to her questions. Erina suspected he was toying with her. She turned in the seat to view him better. He sat with one booted foot resting on the footboard, the reins held loosely in a gloved hand. “Harry?”
His dark eyebrows rose. Something unreadable was in his brown eyes. “Done with daydreaming?”
She glared at him. “I wasn’t daydreaming. I thought you didn’t wish to talk. Perhaps you prefer not to when you’re driving.”