Chapter Twenty-Two
T he bell over the apothecary’s door jangled in the cold air the next morning as Shay stepped aside to let Sophie pass into the warmth of the little shop. He threw a glance over his shoulder to make certain the boy he’d promised a coin to for holding the sleigh horse was capable, then stomped off the snow clinging to his boots and followed her inside.
Miss Danvies stepped out of the back room, wiping her hands on her apron, and came around from behind the counter to greet them. She bobbed a curtsey. “Your Graces.” She gave them a warm—if puzzled—smile. “What brings you to my shop? Henley usually sends one of the footmen if anything’s needed.”
“We’ve come to ask a favor,” Sophie began.
Shay placed his hand on her arm to warn her. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Concern darkened the midwife’s face. “Is something wrong?”
“If anyone asks why we were here, you’re to tell them that the duchess is suffering terrible headaches and needed a powder to ease her pain,” Shay ordered. They had let it be known among the house servants that the reason they were coming into the village was because Sophie was suffering headaches because they’d spent the night fighting. The implication was that their marriage was nearing a breaking point. He wanted Malcolm’s spies to believe it. “No one is to know the truth of what we discuss this morning, not even your closest friends or family. Understand?”
Miss Danvies’s face paled. “Of course.”
“We need your help.” Sophie stepped forward and beseechingly took the woman’s hands. Shay had no idea what kind of friendship the two had struck in the time Sophie had been at Ravenscroft, but Sophie trusted her. Which meant Shay trusted her. “I can’t tell you why.” Sophie cast a glance over her shoulder at Shay for silent reassurance. “But it’s important.” Sophie lowered her voice, as if afraid someone might overhear. “About five years ago, there was a fire at Ravenscroft Manor.”
“I remember. Lord John died.” The midwife lifted her eyes to Shay. “And you were hurt. No one thought you would survive.”
Shay said nothing and instead lowered his gaze as he fussed with his leather driving gloves. Finding the lightskirt John had tupped that night was Sophie’s wild goose chase, not his. He was more than happy to remain out of it.
“But someone else was there that night,” Sophie continued. “A woman. We think she might have been a barmaid named Cora. You seem to know everyone in the area. We thought you might know her, too. Or perhaps you know her family, who might tell us where we could find her.” When the woman didn’t answer, Sophie pressed on. “You see, we need to speak with her. It’s a bit important.”
That was the understatement of the year. But the less Miss Danvies knew, the better.
“I see.” Miss Danvies darted her gaze between Shay and Sophie. “I’m not certain how much help I can be in finding her, but I do know her—that is, I used to. Her name is Cora White. She worked in Pelton at the Royal Oak about five years ago.”
Pelton…a village about ten miles to the south. But of course, she wouldn’t have lived on one of the estate villages. Even John knew better than to plow in his own backyard. “A lightskirt?”
“Barmaid,” Miss Danvies corrected. “Her parents had more children than beds, and so when Cora had the opportunity to leave the family cottage, she took it. The job provided room and board above the tavern, and she was even able to give a few coins to her family every now and then. Not an easy existence, but she was doing as well for herself as she could. I’m certain she was hoping to marry a groom or hosteller.”
Shay held back a grimace. Unfortunately, she’d crossed John’s path instead.
“Where can we find her?” Sophie asked.
“I’m not certain you’ll be able to.” Miss Danvies circled around behind the counter and busied herself with filling small packets with a dried green-grey herb, most likely just to keep her hands busy during this odd conversation. “I haven’t seen her in several years.”
Sophie’s stiff posture wavered. “You said she had family nearby. Would they know how to find her?”
“Most likely not.” She placed her hands flat on the countertop and blew out a hard breath. “They disowned her when they found out she was with child and had no way to marry herself out of scandal.” Her eyes met Shay’s. “The father was dead, you see.”
Shay knew… Christ. “John.”
“I believe so. Cora never revealed his name, but I suspected… It was obvious with how agitated she became whenever the fire and his death were mentioned.”
“She conceived the night of the fire,” Sophie murmured.
“Most likely.” Miss Danvies turned her attention back to the herbs, but she wasn’t packaging them as much as simply sifting them idly through her fingers. “She was too ashamed to let anyone in Pelton know what happened, so when she could no longer hide her situation, she asked for my help. She stayed with me until I delivered her baby.”
“What was it?” Shay asked quietly. Not that it mattered. The child was a bastard, regardless, and could never inherit the title. But for some inexplicable reason, the baby mattered.
“A girl.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Cora owned a little cravat pin in gold with a ruby capping it, so she named the baby Ruby. Said it was the only thing of value the baby’s father ever gave her.”
Shay knew better. John hadn’t given it to her. He was too selfish. Most likely, the pin fell off while they’d been having sex and she picked it up…or the woman simply stole it for her troubles when John was too drunk to notice. Shay didn’t blame her.
“When the baby was old enough to travel, Cora left. She wasn’t able to stay in the area unless she wanted to bring shame to her family, who had refused to help her, so she had no choice but to leave unless she wanted to starve to death.” Bitterness seeped from her voice. “The parish wouldn’t have given her charity, and the poor house wouldn’t have taken her with a baby in tow.”
“But you helped her, didn’t you?” Sophie asked, although it wasn’t truly a question.
Miss Danvies gave a curt nod. “I bought her a coach ticket to London and gave her enough money to tide her over until she could become settled. She thought she could find work and create a new life for herself there, most likely under a new name, which is another reason why it will be next to impossible for you to find her.” She grimaced, thoughtfully. “It might be easier to find the baby, though. Cora said she planned to put Ruby into the Foundling Hospital until she could find a way to care for her.”
“That’s all you know?” Sophie pressed.
“I wish I could give you more information, but she disappeared when she caught the coach, and I never heard from her again. I have no reason to believe she contacted anyone else in the area, either, especially not her family.”
Sophie gave Shay a deflated glance over her shoulder, her blue eyes dark. That wasn’t at all the information Shay knew she had wanted to hear, and her little shoulders sagged beneath her fur-lined cloak.
Mrs. Danvies held out one of the paper packets of herbs toward Sophie. “For your headaches, Your Grace. It also makes a lovely tea.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said quietly, taking the little gift. “For everything.”
“Of course.” Miss Danvies came out from behind the counter to see them to the door. She squeezed Sophie’s arm and leaned close. “Is all well…with your garden plans?”
Sophie’s face flushed beet red as she darted a surreptitious glance at Shay. She slipped her arm around Miss Danvies and answered in a mumble he was certain he wasn’t meant to overhear, “Everything is wonderful.”
A happy smile burst across Miss Danvies’s face, and the woman hugged her briefly before reaching to push open the door. A rush of winter wind blew inside and stirred the paper packets on the counter.
Sophie quickly slipped from the shop and headed toward the waiting sleigh. Shay followed behind, puzzled at the odd interaction between the two women.
He took Sophie’s arm and helped her into the sleigh. “What was that about?” he asked as he tucked the lap rugs around her to keep her warm for the drive home.
“Nothing important.” She slipped her hands into her fur muff, nestled down into the rugs, and added, almost in afterthought with a loving smile for him, “Not anymore.”
With a puzzled frown, he circled behind the sleigh to take his seat beside her. She was lying, he knew. But whatever secret the two women shared, he was willing to let them have it, simply glad that Sophie was making friends in the village. Besides, he had far more important worries to preoccupy him now.
He tossed a coin to the boy holding the horse, who caught it in mid-air and dashed aside with a deferential tug to the brim of his tweed cap. Shay flipped the ribbons, and the sleigh started forward with a toss of the horse’s head and the smooth murmur of snow beneath its runners.
Soon, they had glided through the village and onto the road winding its way along the river. A comfortable silence stretched between them, disturbed only by the soft plodding of the horse’s hooves and the rush of the snow and ice under the small sleigh. The countryside was quiet beneath the pale sunlight, despite not being warm enough to burn off the layer of thin fog that gathered in the low spots and hovered above the river.
When Sophie nestled against his side, he turned the sleigh across the field to take the long way home. He wanted to share this peaceful moment together and create another special memory before Malcolm turned their world upside-down.
He stopped the horse. To their right lay the rolling fields and pastures that sloped down gently toward Ravenscroft Manor in the distance, and to the left stretched the woods, lying hushed beneath a blanket of snow still clinging to the bare boughs and evergreens. The stiff branches cracked and snapped in the small breeze that had grown in strength even in the short time they’d left Ravenscroft about an hour earlier. A portend of a storm to come.
As if sensing the dark turn his thoughts had taken, Sophie straightened away from his side. “I want to leave immediately for London,” she said quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the winter stillness around them. “I don’t see the point in waiting for Malcolm to level his charges before we act. We can also start looking for Cora White right away, hire Bow Street investigators to search for her, ask your friends for help—Shay, we need to strike before Malcolm can.”
He looked away and squinted into the sun. He couldn’t disagree. Except… “And the baby?” Another innocent life had been swept up into their predicament. “What do we do when we find her?”
“We make certain she and her mother are cared for, that they have plenty of food and a warm, safe place to live.” She slipped her hand out of the muff and rested it on his arm. “We take care of them.”
“Even if Cora White refuses to help us?”
“Even then.”
The determined glint in her eye made him smile. Truly, he’d expected no other answer from her, knowing her as well as he did.
“And that’s why you’re so very special, Sophie,” he murmured. Even now, he couldn’t say it. And that’s why…I love you. “That you would want to help a woman and child you’ve never met, who are no obligation to us. Yet you care about such people.”
“I do.” She added meaningfully, “And so do you.”
He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss to her warm lips. “But the girl will be almost four by now. If she’s been under the care of the Foundling Hospital all this time, placed out with a wet nurse or other caretaker, God only knows what kind of condition she’ll be in.” He didn’t mean only physically. He’d heard horror stories about the way children were treated by some of their nurses, how they were abused, beaten, even starved. Her scars wouldn’t be on the surface. “She might be beyond our help.”
“No child is beyond help.”
He nuzzled his mouth against her temple, hoping to God she was right.
There were many reasons he was reluctant to charge off to London. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to dredge up the past, and certainly not just as they were finally putting it behind them.
But he also knew they had to walk through this fire in order to emerge from hell.
“All right,” he murmured. “But we’ll travel the way I say we do, and you have to follow my orders.”
She tilted back her head to stare up at him, her lips parted, offended. “When have I ever not?”
He slid her a sideways glance of utter disbelief. She acquiesced with a sigh.
“And when this whole mess is over,” he told her, “we’ll never travel to London again. Agreed?”
Her mouth twisted grimly at that demand. “Why do I feel like I’ve won the battle but lost the war?”
“Because you have.”
Glaring at him, she slapped him in the chest with her fur muff.
He flipped the ribbons and sent the sleigh onward toward home. The day was growing colder, with the promise of more snow before sunset, and they had a lot of planning to do.
“We’ll have to travel secretly,” he told her, “and leave immediately. We’ll need to get a start on Malcolm and hide from him what we’re doing as long as possible.”
She frowned. “How? His spies will report to him that we’ve left for London before our coach reaches the end of the drive.”
“I have an idea.”
“Which is?”
He looked down at her. “Perhaps it’s time we put an end to our marriage, after all.”