Chapter 31
On Friday, Sarah dressed in one of her favorite ensembles, along with her newest set of gloves, and one of her mother’s favorite hats, all of which had been dyed black for her mourning.
The journey to London marked the first time Sarah had traveled to the city and been so acutely aware of every aspect of the journey and the time it took.
Normally, her interest was captivated by a conversation, a book, her journal, or even the passing of the scenery.
Now, however, nothing seemed to make the trip faster or ease the uncomfortable knot in the middle of her stomach.
She’d given the coachman, a very capable young man named Edmunds, Alano’s address in London.
He’d promised to find it, and she’d only nodded, knowing that it was common to become lost in London more often than not.
To her surprise, however, he drove straight to the square located not far from her father’s home.
“It’s a very fashionable place, Lady Sarah,” he said, helping her from the carriage.
His comment only spurred more questions, but she had a more important task at the moment than to inquire of her coachman’s past.
Edmunds preceded her up the stairs and knocked forcefully on the door.
Sarah looked around the square surreptitiously, surprised at the prosperity of the place.
A small square park sat in front of the house, enticing a visitor to sit on the wooden benches or take a walk beside the blooming flower beds.
An ornate iron fence enclosed the park. If this was like the Duke of Herridge’s home, the occupants of the adjoining houses had keys to the gate.
Alano was wealthier than she’d imagined.
The door was opened by a young blond man attired in a leather apron and smelling of vinegar.
“Yes?” he asked, looking down his not-inconsiderable nose at them. “Who are you?”
He looked first at Edmunds, then at Sarah, and finally at the coach with the ducal crest sitting in front of the steps to the town house. If anything changed his mind on how to address them, it was not politeness as much as the carriage. He whipped off the apron and bowed too deeply.
“May I assist you?”
“I have come to see Alano McDonough,” Sarah said. “Is he at home?”
“May I announce you?”
Contrary to Douglas’s comments, she didn’t often tout her title. But something about this young man made her want to do so. If she’d been a duchess, so much the better. The daughter of one would have to suffice.
“Lady Sarah Eston,” she said. “Of Chavensworth.”
Again, she had the impression it was not so much her person as what accompanied her—in this instance, the mention of Chavensworth—that impressed the young man.
He managed to step back, open the door, and bow, all in one effortless movement. If he hadn’t annoyed her, she would’ve commended him on the poetry of his movements. As it was, she was determined to ignore him.
“I shall summon him forthwith,” he said, and disappeared into the interior of the house, making no provisions for where they were to wait, or taking her gloves and bonnet, or even her card. He just disappeared.
Thomas, for all his inexperience in his position, would not have erred so abysmally.
A few minutes later, long enough for Sarah to become even more irritated, Alano appeared out of the shadows.
“I’m sorry, Lady Sarah, that the buffoon left you standing there,” he said, motioning to a door set in a far wall.
She was always a little disconcerted to hear his Spanish accent, but she smiled and turned to her driver. “If you wish to return to the coach, Edmunds, I shall be fine,” she said.
“If you’re certain, Lady Sarah.”
She nodded and watched him leave the house, opening and closing the door behind him.
“Where did your majordomo disappear to?” she asked.
“I’ve set him to polishing the silver. It’s the only way to rid myself of him for a while.
But he’s not mine. He’s Douglas’s.” He grinned.
“Although I do admit to having hired Paulson, a fact Douglas will not allow me to forget. Staff the place, he said, and for my sins, I thought Paulson was versed in manners.”
Alano looked around the room. Crates and barrels littered the space.
He led her to a sofa, and she sat.
“If the damn fool knew anything, he’d have offered you refreshments,” Alano said. “But then, it doesn’t appear we’re up to any kind of standard.”
She turned to face him, schooling her features so as not to betray her surprise.
“This house belongs to Douglas?”
“Your husband is a very wealthy man, Lady Sarah. More wealthy, I’d say than your father could ever hope to be.”
She knew that, from his purchase of a rail car. But there was one question for which she needed an answer.
“Why did he enter into an agreement with him, Alano?”
“Are you talking the agreement to make diamonds for him? A man would be a fool ever to use all his own money to finance a venture, Lady Sarah. As to the wedding, you will have to ask him that yourself.” He smiled kindly at her.
“But you didn’t come here to talk about your wedding. Did you?” He peered into her face. “Because I couldn’t speak ill of Douglas, Lady Sarah. He’s almost like a son to me.”
She folded her hands in her lap, took a few deep breaths to compose herself, and looked up at Alano, who was still standing beside her.
“I’ve come to ask if you know where he is. Is he here, since this is his house?”
“He’s not here, Lady Sarah,” Alano said, frowning. “I haven’t seen him since he and I shared a carriage from Chavensworth a few days ago.”
She took another deep breath, but perhaps one of the whalebone stays had come loose in her corset, because a sharp pain seemed to go through her stomach at Alano’s comment. She was gripping her hands so tightly they resembled fists, and she forced them open.
“Did he mention to you any errands he might have? Or where he might have gone?”
Alano sat beside her.
“There was one thing,” he said slowly, his gaze not on her but the floor. “He was set on seeing his solicitor. He wouldn’t tell me why.” He faced her finally. “That’s all I know, Lady Sarah.”
“Why have you come back to London, Alano?”
“Douglas and I have never lived in each other’s pockets, Lady Sarah. London’s close enough to Chavensworth that I won’t lose touch with him. Besides, London tolerates me more than Chavensworth.”
“A house does not have the capacity for tolerance, Alano,” she said gently. “Only the people within it.”
His look changed, became as frozen as that worn by Mrs. Williams.
“Do you know the address of Douglas’s solicitor?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’ll tell your driver and give him directions,” he said.
She didn’t say anything until she reached the door, then she turned to him. “Mrs. Williams seems to miss you a great deal,” she said. “She was weeping the last time I saw her.”
He didn’t respond, merely descended the steps to speak to Edmunds. Once he’d done so, he turned to Sarah again. “It’s not like Douglas to disappear, Lady Sarah. If he isn’t at Chavensworth, there’s a reason for it. If there’s something he had to face, he’d do so. The man is not a coward.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she opted for the truth. “I need to know why he left.”
“Let me come with you,” he said. “I might be of some use.”
Surprised, she nodded. “I would be grateful for the company,” she said.
The solicitor’s office was located in an area of the city unfamiliar to her.
Edmunds waited with the horses while she and Alano entered the small office.
After a flurry of introductions and some stuttering responses from his clerk, she and Alano were shown into an inner office and introduced to Peter Smythe, her husband’s solicitor.
The man was the antithesis of what she’d imagined.
Instead of being stoop-shouldered, he was tall.
When he stood and came around the desk to greet her, he did so with a smile.
He was also younger than she’d thought he’d be—not much older than Douglas.
He wasn’t as attractive a man as her husband, but she had to admit, sitting there, that if she’d never seen Douglas, she would have thought the solicitor handsome.
A thought that lasted only until she’d come face-to-face with Mr. Smythe’s incredible recalcitrance. Her husband’s solicitor was even more stubborn than Douglas, and more obstinate than her most intractable Scottish relative.
“I’m afraid, Lady Sarah,” he said, “that I cannot divulge the information you seek Perhaps if you sought the answers from your husband, he could tell you why he came to see me.”
She didn’t like feeling powerless, but she kept her smile anchored in place, all too conscious of Mr. Smythe’s watchful glance and Alano’s presence at her side.
“Are you being confidential because that is what every client deserves, Mr. Smythe? Or is there a particular reason you might be keeping that information from me?”
“I beg your pardon?”
She took a deep breath. “If I left the room, would you give Mr. McDonough the information I need?”
He drew himself up in his chair, a quite impressive performance, actually.
“I would not, Lady Sarah,” he said. “On the contrary, I would probably interrogate Mr. McDonough with a great deal more severity than I’m questioning you.
I might ask him, for example, why he is so desirous to know?
Why has he come to me? Is there a reason why he thinks I might give him the answer he seeks? ”
She applauded Mr. Smythe’s honor, yet at the same time, it played havoc with her intent to learn where Douglas was.
“But you can verify that my husband was here on Tuesday,” she said.
“I will do that much, Lady Sarah.” He stood, a rather impolite way of ending the meeting.
She stood as well, catching Alano’s glance, and wishing she could tell him that she would deal quite well with this setback. She would not be an object of pity. She bent her head, playing with the catch on her reticule to give her some time to frame her words.