Chapter 21 #2
“She escaped this morning!” Frotheringale blurted.
“Sent the maid to say she’d taken ill. I believed it until I finally went up myself to fetch her for tea.
She bolted, and the maid covered for her.
Off without a character!” Frotheringale shouted into the foyer.
“No one’s to put in a word for that strumpet, hear? ”
“Where,” Jem said with deadly calm, “did she go?”
“The maid? Why should I care, when she double-crossed me? And here I’d promised them a bonus if they’d—”
“Lucasta, you bacon-brained idiot!” Trevor shouted. “We didn’t pass anyone on the road that could be her. She couldn’t have walked clear back to London. It’s miles.”
“Lucasta isn’t afraid of walking,” Jem said. He prowled the circular foyer, slapping his driving gloves against his leg. “Which are the main roads that would take her back to London? She’ll be trying to return there by any means possible.”
“Why wouldn’t she take a horse?” Trevor wondered.
Jem eyed him with amazement. “Lucasta is terrified of horses. How can you not know that?”
“She most certainly doesn’t ride.” Frotheringale ran a hand through his hair again. “The scare she gave me when she fell, and the way she was limping about for days, I’m surprised she’s hale enough to walk any—” He trailed off when the faces of both men swung toward him.
“She fell how?” Jem asked in a low, dangerous voice.
“She tried to steal a horse.” The Viscount cleared his throat. “That is to say, borrow a horse. And—it threw her.”
“She was injured?” Hot fury slammed through Jem. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this angry in his life. Lucasta had not only been stolen from him, she’d been hurt, and he hadn’t even known she was in danger. “Did you seek medical attention? How could you not at least contact her family—”
“Speaking of family.” Frotheringale launched an accusing stare on Trevor. “You can’t marry her, you clodpate. First of all, you haven’t a feather to fly with, and second, I wrote to Aunt Cornelia and—”
“Roads!” Jem roared. “Footpaths! Anything! Where would she have gone?”
Frotheringale blinked and stepped away from the railing as if Jem meant to vault over it and throttle him, though he was still on the floor of the foyer below.
“Well. Er. There’s the road that goes through Little Chelsea up to Knightsbridge.
She might have found some means of transport, a wagon or such. ”
“I told you, Lucasta does not mind walking,” Jem tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the door, the capes of his greatcoat swirling about him.
“It’s best neither of you come with me,” he warned as Trevor turned on his heels and Frotheringale hurried down the stair.
“I can’t promise I won’t thrash the both of you. ”
“We all want to know she’s safe, Rudyard,” Trevor replied.
“Payne, now, isn’t it?” Frotheringale asked, cramming a hat on his head as he followed them outside. “If you ask me, a royal pain in the—”
“There’s not a seat in my vehicle for you,” Jem snapped at him.
“I’ll bring my own and be directly behind you,” Frotheringale huffed. “Really, Payne, you’ve being awfully proprietary about my cousin, when I’m the man she’s going to—”
“I am the man she is going to marry,” Jem said firmly. “No one else.”
He would see to that, he promised himself. Lucasta would marry no one but a man of her choosing. Somehow, he thought desperately, he had to persuade her that that man was him.
Rose Hollow looked as lovely as Jem had ever seen it, despite the gray veil of clouds.
Something red and ebullient bloomed in the front yard, and the vines twining over the slate bricks of the house gleamed a lush, lovely green.
Golden lamplight shone from the parlor window, and as Jem neared, he heard music.
He paused on the stoop. Trevor Pevensey stopped beside him, and Frotheringale, tossing the ribbons over the loop at the gate to keep his horses from wandering off, joined them.
“Where are we?” Trevor asked.
Jem cleared his throat. He hadn’t thought this through, or he would have directed the other men elsewhere on their search.
But some instinct had insisted he would find Lucasta here, and he had headed for Little Chelsea with no thought in his mind but making certain that she was in one piece.
Now, he realized he was exposing both of these men—neither of whom could be called allies—to his precious secret.
“The inhabitants here are—dependents of mine,” Jem said, his voice hoarse. “I will thank you to be civil to them.”
“Your mistress’s little nest?” Frotheringale smirked. Jem answered with a scowl, then lifted the latch on the door.
A siren’s voice welcomed him, luring him inside, but not to his doom. Merely to the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld in his life.
Lucasta sat on the sofa where he had seen her perched many times before, but she was encased with children. Tressie sat on one side, Starria another, both so close that Lucasta could not have moved her arms. Hannibal sat on the floor, leaning against her knee, playing with a wooden toy.
Judith sat at the spinet, playing a tune. Mrs. Cadogan sat in a corner, smiling contently over her knitting. And Lucasta’s voice filled the room, so clear, so true, so profoundly miraculous that Jem blinked tears from his eyes.
Judith turned toward the door, tilting her head, and beside Jem, Trevor Pevensey let out a low gasp at the sight of her lovely face with its scarred, white eyes. Frotheringale cleared his throat.
Jem ignored all of them. Lucasta broke off in mid-measure as the children’s heads swiveled toward the door, and in seconds they sprang from the sofa towards him. But Jem walked through his siblings to get to Lucasta, pulling her with both hands to her feet and into his arms.
“You are in one piece,” he said on a rush of relief so strong he thought his ribs might break from it.
“I am,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “What are—”
“You are not hurt?” He slipped a hand into the knot of hair at her nape and gently coaxed her head up so he could scan every beloved line of her face.
His heart thumped against his chest. There was a cut on the slope of one cheek and a dark bruise at her temple.
She gave him a lopsided smile as he brought his hands to either side of her face, examining her intently.
“No, I—” But the rest of her words were lost as he lowered his head and kissed her.
Her soft, happy exhale told him all he wanted to know. All except one crucial bit of information. He broke off the kiss before he drowned in her and said raggedly, staring into her eyes, “You are not married?”
Those gray-green eyes of hers held the sheen of tears, but the puckering of her lips was an amused smile. “I am not married.”
“Thank heavens.” Jem sighed. “For you are to marry me.” And he kissed her again.
“Good heavens, Jem, let Lucasta breathe, won’t you?” Judith scolded. “She’s had a taxing day, you know.”
“Nonsense.” Jem lifted his head but refused to release the woman in his arms. She felt so warm, so lusciously right. She was the piece of his life he’d been longing for without knowing what it was he was seeking. He would never let her out of his arms again.
“It’s scarcely two miles from Deer Moor to here,” he told Judith. “I doubt she even felt exercised.”
“It would be a lovely stroll in fine weather.” Lucasta glanced over his shoulder. “You brought us company.”
“You lied to me!” Frotheringale exclaimed.
“You kidnapped me,” Lucasta replied. “Jem, you received my poem?”
“Minx,” Frotheringale mumbled. “You told me it was nothing.”
“I can’t see why you didn’t write to me, Lucasta,” Trevor said. “Your family. I would have come for you in a moment.”
“Yes, and the Baron would have been right behind you with a special license, extorting the vicar that Frotheringale found to marry you to me instead of him,” she answered. “I’m not of a mind to be wed yet, thank you.”
Jem’s heart clenched. Did that include him?
“I have more important things to be concerned about, as I told you again and again, Gale. And that reminds me.” She performed brisk, proper introductions all around, then looked up at Jem with an expression that made his insides turn to mash, so eager and imploring was her face.
“Can you take me home, please? The concert is tomorrow, and I don’t doubt that my foundlings have been completely lost without me, if they haven’t given up on me altogether. ”
“Of course I’ll take you.” Jem tightened his hold.
“The Gorgons—that is, your friends have kept your plans going, but we’ve all been frantic, to say the least.” He faced his sister.
“Jude, I’ve no doubt Mrs. Cadogan whisked off to make up a tea tray, but I really must take Lucasta away at once. The concert is tomorrow and—”
“And I am attending it.” Judith lifted her chin and faced him with the sternest, most stubborn look he had ever seen his sweet sister wear.
“Jude, pet, we discussed this—”
“I helped save her,” Judith said. “She was wise enough to find us, and we took her in at once. I won’t perform if you won’t permit it, but I insist on hearing this concert, Jem.
Lucasta has put her whole heart into these preparations, and I want to be there myself to see what a marvelous success she shall be. ”
“Us, too,” Tressie said. And his siblings ranged themselves before Judith, in order of descending size.
In his arms, Lucasta grew very still. Jem blew air out of his cheeks.
“I appreciate what you’ve done, Jude, really, but—it’s a very public event. It will be attended by crowds of people. I can’t think…”
He glanced toward the men who accompanied him, knowing their reactions would tell him all the reasons he could not want to expose his siblings to polite society.
The cruelty, the judgment, and sneers and whispers—he would do everything possible to protect Judith from that, and his other siblings as well.
Trevor was staring at Lucasta. Jem glanced down at her face to see that the two were engaged in some wordless conversation. Trevor’s look went from outrage and annoyance to an expression of perplexed doubt. Lucasta answered with a raised set of brows and a tilt of her head in Judith’s direction.
Trevor cleared his throat. “Miss Falstead,” he said, watching Lucasta’s face for direction. “I, ah, hope I am correct in addressing you as Miss Falstead? I wonder if I might escort you to the Foundling Hospital’s benefit concert tomorrow night. Though it occurs to me I have yet to procure tickets—”
“I would adore having you as my escort, Mr. Pevensey,” Judith said promptly.
Jem narrowed his eyes at her. “Lucasta,” he warned.
She squeezed his shoulders. “I can procure tickets for Trevor. And my cousin will behave in very proper fashion toward your sister. Very proper,” she stressed, throwing Trevor a look.
“Of course.” Trevor nodded, watching Judith with caution.
But without cruelty. Without any of the sneering or pity that Jem feared. He looked no more nervous than any young man might feel at offering escort to a young lady not known to him, when his cousin had coerced him into doing so.
“And you can escort us!” Tressie announced, striding forward to look up at Frotheringale. “The three of us! Can’t you, sir? Whoever you are?”
“I-er-I…” Frotheringale flailed, looking helplessly at Jem.
“What a marvelous idea, cousin,” Lucasta exclaimed. “How kind of you to offer. I shall procure the very best seats I can for all of you.”
Jem winced. There would be no disavowing the identity of his siblings now. Unfair of her to take advantage of his temporary loss of judgment to achieve what he’d told her he wanted to avoid: thrusting his siblings into the public eye, exposing them to ridicule.
“Judith, you will be envied, you know, showing up on the arm of Mr. Pevensey,” Lucasta said conversationally, though she searched Jem’s face with her eyes.
“He has come to be very much in demand at town events. And Gale, you will be much wondered at, being so cozy with the daughters and sons of a new marquess.”
“I—er,” Frotheringale managed.
“I don’t like it,” Jem muttered.
Lucasta squeezed him again, and the warm press of her lithe body against his reminded Jem of how much else he had to be grateful for that day. “You take risks in your business, do you not? You would not have made such a success of things, else.”
“That’s different.”
“I cannot see how,” she murmured. “If you prove right, then we will know the truth of the matter. But if I prove right—” She pressed her lips together. “We cannot know until we try.”
“I do believe I would enjoy the foundling concert m’self.
” Mrs. Cadogan bustled in with an overladen tea try.
“I don’t expect you’ll be able to wheedle a ticket for me as well, Miss Lithwick?
But if you may, perhaps milord Frotheringale can take Miss Falstead and m’self and the little ones to Arendale House tonight so we may attend the concert tomorrow.
I’ve already set Nurse to packing up some things.
And Mr. Pevensey, I imagine you won’t rest easy until you’ve gone with his lordship to deliver Miss Lithwick to her family, but surely you’ll take a bit of tea and cakes before you set out? ”
Jem released Lucasta with great reluctance as she went to distribute cakes while Judith serenely poured tea. His arms ached as her warmth departed, but the ache in his heart was worse.
He had let Lucasta Lithwick into his life, and she had changed everything.
He didn’t feel as confident as she was that exposing his siblings to scrutiny would be anything but a humiliating disaster.
To trust anyone but himself to make a decision went so profoundly against the grain that Jem had to grit his teeth to keep from shouting them all down until they bent to his will.
But Lucasta was right. He couldn’t let fear and bitterness rule him any longer. He had done something he’d swore he’d never do: go daft over a woman. And losing her was the one risk he was not at all willing to take.