Chapter 36
“… a
nd so one night, Giacomo and I escaped,” Arabella said. “We had planned it for weeks. He sold some of my jewelry to make certain we had enough for passage, and then we ran. We made our way to the coast and from there back to England.”
“With Giacomo posing as your husband.”
“Yes.” Arabella lifted her chin slightly. “He loves me, Julian. He truly does. You must not think less of him because he is a servant.”
Julian wanted to protest, wanted to ask what exactly she took him for, but the honest truth was that before any of this had happened, if she had come to him and said she wished to marry a valet, he would very likely have told her no. He held his tongue.
“Where was he when you came to find me with David?”
“Staying with a friend who has lived in England for some years. The same friend who helped us with clothes and what little money we had left.”
He shook his head. “But how did you—”
“Arabella!” The voice came from the hall, and a moment later, Marianne burst into the room. The two women fell into each other’s arms.
“Oh, it is so good to see you,” Arabella said, her voice catching. “How is Molly? How are you?”
“I am very well. But there is no time for this now.” Marianne pulled back, still holding her by the shoulders. “How did you come to be here?”
Julian rose, the urgency he had been holding back finally breaking through. “There is no time, indeed. Clara is gone.”
Arabella blinked at him. “What do you mean, gone?”
“She disappeared this afternoon. We had a foolish …” He waved a hand. “It does not matter now. She was seen being forced into a carriage, fighting to get free. Devereau’s carriage. Red handles on the doors.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Arabella’s hand flew to her mouth. “But why would he take her?”
“To draw you out,” Marianne said quietly.
“We must go after him,” Julian said. “We must find her and David. Wherever he has taken her, I have no doubt David is there too. I am certain this entire scheme has been designed precisely to draw you out into the open.”
“Then perhaps we ought not give him what he expects,” Nathaniel said, speaking for the first time since Arabella had finished her story.
“I do not believe we have another choice,” Julian said. “He has two members of my family. The trouble is we do not know where he has taken them. We have already searched every Devereau and Devers holding we could find, and Steven has been more than generous with what he knows.”
“He hates Bash,” Arabella said suddenly. “Steven has always hated him. He only brought him to your ball because their uncle insisted upon it—they are both beholden to the old man since he raised them both.” She pressed her hands together.
“It does not matter now. I think I know where they have gone. There is an estate not far from here on the road towards Brighton, near enough the sea that you can smell it but far enough away that you cannot see it. It belongs to the uncle. You would never have found it through any of the usual searches. I do not believe even Steven knows it exists.” She paused.
“Sebastian took me there once when we were first courting. He thought it would seem romantic.” Her voice flattened.
“We must go there. I am certain that is where he has taken them.”
“Then we go,” Julian said. “And if we must fight him, we fight him. We will get David back. And Clara.”
“David,” Arabella said quietly. “You mean Horatio. I saw in the newspapers that you have been calling him David.”
“I could hardly present my own son under a name borrowed from your father instead of his,” Julian said somewhat sharply.
“He was never meant to be your son to present at all, Julian.”
“Well then, perhaps you ought not to have had a servant deliver him to me at a crowded ball where half of London was certain to see and assume the worst,” he shot back.
“Do you not think I know that?” Her voice cracked. “The plan was for Giacomo to wait for a quieter moment. But one of the guests took note of him and began asking questions, demanding to know what he was doing there. He had to act before he was caught.”
“Which he was anyway, and then so were we,” Julian said.
“Yes. I know.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Marianne said gently, “but did you not just say we must make haste?”
“Yes. Of course.” He pulled himself together.
“Carriages. We will need them at once. Arabella, you will come with me. Write down everything you can remember about how to reach this estate. Nathaniel,” he turned, “find some of our friends though I do not want their wives along this time. I need them to alert the constables, the Bow Street Runners, and whatever law we have not yet involved in this. The whole of it must be explained to them properly. And someone must take the latest of it to the scandal sheets. We expose him once and for all, tonight if we can manage it.”
“I will see to it,” Nathaniel said, already moving.
And just like that, everyone scattered to their tasks.
* * *
“I cannot believe you were such a fool,” Arabella said as the carriage rumbled on.
They had been sitting side by side for half an hour as he’d told her everything that had occurred up until now, including his rather winding connection with Clara.
“Saying such things with her in the house, knowing she could hear you.”
“I did not mean for her to hear me. How was I supposed to know she was outside my study door at that precise moment?”
“You should have assumed. You ought not to say things you do not truly mean. You ought not to be so careless with your words. You taught me that. You told me when I was sixteen that a gentleman’s word is worth its weight in gold, or it is worth nothing at all.”
“I will set it right. Once I have freed her from his clutches, I will set it right. I will make sure she knows I truly love her.”
“Good. You must. She is my dearest friend, and I will not have you mistreating her.”
“I would never,” he said.
“You already have.”
He turned to her. “I know it. And I will put it right. I will. Once I can.”
The rain continued to pour as they climbed into the carriage once more. The coachman looked considerably less than pleased to be sent back out onto the roads, but it could not be helped.
At least the thunder and lightning had eased somewhat. As the carriage rumbled south, Julian looked across at Arabella.
“Why did you not tell me that night you came with the baby who he was and what he wanted?”
“I did not want to involve you.” She looked down at her hands.
“You do not understand. I thought he loved me. I married him because I believed he loved me and because I believed I loved him. But one night, I overheard him speaking with his uncle, saying he was truly in love with some Italian girl his uncle had chosen for him instead and that their intention was to force me into admitting adultery, so he could keep Horatio and send me away with nothing. I would have been entirely ruined.”
“Arabella…”
“It does not matter now. I suppose he knew I had grown to lean a great deal on Giacomo, and the truth is, I came to love him over those months. He has been at my side this whole time. He helped me escape.”
She took a breath. “But I could not tell you any of it. Admit to you that I had fallen for such a man and that I had run off with a servant. I could not bear it. And I did not want to endanger you. I thought if you knew nothing, Sebastian could not use you against me. I knew Clara had returned from Scotland; she had mentioned it in her last letter to me, and I thought if Giacomo brought David to her quickly, she might take him back to Scotland before anyone was any the wiser. Nobody would have known.”
“It was a haphazard plan at best,” Julian said.
“I know. It was foolish. I was reckless, and I cannot tell you how much I regret it now. I let his handsome face and his charm and his perfectly polished manners blind me entirely to what he truly is. He only ever wanted a child, and he was willing to ruin me in the process of getting one.” Her jaw set.
“Well, he will not have him. I will fight him for it.”
“It will not come to that,” Julian said. “He has taken your son, and he has taken my wife. He will answer for both. Abducting the wife of a peer, when he himself holds no title, will see him imprisoned at the very least. I may yet see him transported if I have any say in the matter.”
The two of them traveled in silence for a while after that.
“I should have come to you from the start,” Arabella said finally, very quietly. “You were always like a brother to me. I should have trusted you with all of it. I am sorry that I did not.”
Silence settled between them now as the carriage pressed on. After a moment, he reached across to her and placed his hand on hers. She curled her fingers around his and moved closer. Then, she rested her head on his shoulder as she had when she was a child.