Chapter 3
“Eliza, there is still no sign of them.” Claire’s voice carried down the narrow corridor as Eliza stepped inside. She wore her maid’s apron, but the worry in her eyes belonged to a friend, not a servant.
Three days had passed since Charlotte vanished, and each one had stretched into a long, anxious search that yielded nothing. Eliza and Claire had walked from one coaching inn to another until their feet ached.
They had questioned stable hands, innkeepers, and a farmer in the village where Thomas’s cousins lived. They had even made inquiries along the London road, hoping someone had seen a young couple traveling with haste. Every answer had been the same.
No one had seen them. No one had heard a word. Each lead had grown cold before they could follow it.
Nanny McCourtney had been so furious when she learned the truth that she pressed a hand to her chest and sat down at once.
She had muttered about impropriety and ruin, about the shame of a stable boy, and about the foolishness of young girls who believed in romance.
She insisted on joining the search, although her steps were slow and her breath short. They had split up to cover more ground, but even that had not helped.
Charlotte had gone with the man she loved, and the consequences of it grew harder for Eliza to ignore as the hours passed.
Back in their cramped rooms, Eliza paced from the hearth to the window, her steps quick and uneven on the worn carpet. Claire sat beside Nanny, who rested in the stiff chair, her eyes closed and her hands folded over her apron. Claire watched Eliza with quiet worry, her brow drawn in a tight line.
Eliza pressed her palms together. “We have searched everywhere. If she were nearby, someone would have seen her.”
Claire nodded. “It seems likely they left London altogether.”
Eliza stopped pacing, and the stillness made her chest tighten.
“If the marriage does not take place, we will have nothing. The creditors will come. Our name will be ruined. And Charlotte will be found and dragged back in disgrace.” Her voice wavered, and she forced it steady. “She will never recover from that.”
A faint rustle came from the chair. Nanny opened her eyes and fixed them on Eliza with a look that held both fatigue and resolve. “There is one way to prevent it.”
Eliza turned toward her, her breath catching. “What way?”
“You can take her place,” Nanny said. “You and Charlotte look enough alike. You are close in height, and you have the same coloring. You have not been out in society since your debut, and the duke last saw Charlotte when she was a child. He will not know the difference.”
Eliza stared at her. “Take her place? You cannot mean that.”
“I do,” Nanny said. Her voice was calm, though her eyes held a sharp clarity that left no room for doubt. “It is the only way to protect everyone and everything.”
Claire shifted in her chair. “Nanny is right. It is not ideal, but it is possible. More possible than finding Charlotte before the wedding contract is broken.”
Eliza felt her breath tighten. “It is deception.”
“It is survival,” Nanny replied. “Your father trusted the Duke of Sutherland. He believed this match would secure your future, and that future has not changed. Only the bride has.”
Eliza glanced from Nanny to Claire. The thought unsettled her, but neither woman wavered. “You truly believe I could do this.”
Claire nodded. “I believe you are the only one who can.”
The truth of it took shape in her mind, unwelcome but undeniable. There was no other way forward.
Claire rose from her chair. “It could work,” she said. Her voice stayed calm, though her eyes showed her concern. “If you choose it.”
Eliza closed her eyes for a moment. She thought of Charlotte’s note with the trembling script and the plea for forgiveness.
She thought of their father’s promise to the Duke of Sutherland, the promise that had kept them sheltered.
She then thought of the creditors who would not hesitate to seize what little they had left.
She opened her eyes, lifted her chin, and boldly declared, “I will do it.”
Nanny gave a quiet murmur of approval, a small sound that carried more conviction than her frail posture suggested.
Claire straightened, her expression firming as Eliza’s decision emboldened her. “Then we will prepare,” she said.
Eliza nodded. “I will become Charlotte.”
The decision changed the room at once. They spoke little after that. Nanny dozed in her chair, worn out from the day as Claire cleared the table with slow, careful movements. Eliza stood at the window, watching the street as the light faded. She could not bring herself to sit.
A rumor had reached her earlier that Thomas had been seen near the river. It was likely false, but she could not ignore it.
Even with her decision made, she could not leave Charlotte to whatever fate she had chosen without trying once more to reach her. If there was any chance to bring her back safely, she had to take it.
Eliza crossed the room at once and pulled her cloak from its hook, her movements quick and deliberate. She wrapped it around her shoulders and headed for the door before Claire could try to stop her.
She hurried down the narrow staircase, her hand brushing the wall for balance as she descended. The cold air met her at the door, and she slipped out into the street without looking back.
The streets grew narrower as she walked, and the lamps grew fewer. The houses leaned close together, leaving long stretches of dim light between them. The air smelled of damp stone and old refuse as she kept her hood low and her steps quick, careful not to draw attention.
A cart rattled somewhere behind her, and she turned at once, her breath catching until she saw it pass. Every sound made her look over her shoulder.
A sudden movement caught her eye. Two men stepped into the alley ahead of her. Their clothes were worn, and their eyes held a sharp hunger that made her throat tighten.
“Your bag,” one of them said. “Hand it over.”
Eliza backed away and felt her shoulders hit the wall behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as one of the men moved closer, blocking what little light remained. She opened her mouth to scream when a voice cut through the alley.
A tall figure strode toward them, his steps cutting through the darkness with purpose. His tone carried a command that left no room for argument. “Enough.”
The thieves hesitated, but only for a moment. One spat a curse and lunged. The stranger moved with startling speed, catching the man’s wrist and twisting sharply. A cry split the alley as the thief collapsed to the ground.
The second man rushed forward, but the stranger met him head-on, driving him back with a force that sent him stumbling into the wall. The man clutched his arm, eyes wide with pain.
“Go, now,” the stranger said.
This time, they obeyed. Both fled into the darkness, their footsteps fading into the maze of narrow streets.
Eliza pressed a hand to her chest, trying to stand upright despite her knees threatening to give way. Her breath came too quickly, and the cold air stung her throat.
The stranger turned to her. For the first time, she saw his face.
His features were sharply cut, his dark hair was disheveled from the struggle, and his grayish eyes held something fierce and controlled.
“What is a lady doing alone in such a place?” His voice was low and furious. “Are you out of your senses?”
Eliza lifted her chin, though her heart still hammered painfully. Gratitude and indignation tangled within her. “I had business here.”
“Business.” He stepped closer, and she became aware of the breadth of his shoulders beneath his dark coat and the restrained power in the way he held himself. “You could have been killed.”
“I am aware of that,” she said. Her voice shook, but she refused to lower her gaze. “I do not need your scolding.”
He stared at her, clearly taken aback that she dared speak to him so directly. “You should not be here.”
“I had no choice,” she said. “I am searching for someone.”
“Who?”
Eliza hesitated. She did not know this man, and she had no intention of revealing the truth to a stranger.
“A friend.”
He studied her closely, his eyes searching her face for any sign of a lie. The attention made her breath catch, but she forced herself to stay still.
“This is not a place for a lady to wander alone,” he said at last. “I will see you to a safer street.”
She wanted to refuse. Pride urged her to. But her legs trembled, and the alley suddenly felt colder and narrower. She nodded once, gathered herself, and stepped beside him.
They walked in silence. His stride was measured and steady against the uneven stones. He kept a respectful distance, yet his presence wrapped around her like a shield.
Eliza focused on the road ahead, but she was acutely aware of him. She noticed the quiet strength in his movements and the way he glanced toward every shadow as if expecting danger.
When they reached a brighter street, he slowed and came to a stop beneath a lamp. The light caught the edge of his coat and the line of his jaw as he turned toward her.
Only then did she see him clearly. His dark hair and the defined severity of his features came into focus, along with the cool, unreadable eyes that hinted at something gentler beneath. The sight of him, so composed after such violence, made her breath falter.
He leaned his head slightly closer, his voice low and stern. “Do not return to that alley.”
“I will not,” she said.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, as if ensuring she meant it. Then he turned and walked away without another word, disappearing into the night as swiftly as he had arrived.
Eliza stood beneath the lamplight, her pulse still unsteady, wondering who he was and why the memory of his eyes refused to leave her.
She gathered her cloak and hurried back the way she had come, her steps quick on the pavement. The streets grew brighter as she neared home, but she did not slow. By the time she reached their building, her breath was unsteady, and her hands were cold from gripping her cloak too tightly.
She pushed through the door and climbed the stairs, the boards creaking under her feet. Claire was already moving toward her as she entered the room, her eyes wide with alarm. “You were gone so long. I feared the worst.”
Eliza told her everything, from the alley and the thieves to the stranger who had stepped in at the precise moment she needed help. Claire listened with wide eyes, her hand pressed to her mouth.
Then Claire leaned in, her voice dropping, a familiar glint in her eye. “Was he handsome?”
Eliza couldn’t help but smile. “Handsome?” She hesitated only a moment before the words spilled out. “Yes. Very. I did not see him clearly at first, but once we reached the light, I could see.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm as Claire stifled a giggle.
Eliza continued. “He had dark hair, sharp features, and the broadest shoulders I had ever seen. And the way he carried himself! I have never seen a man look so certain of what he was doing.”
Claire’s eyes widened even more. “And he walked you back?”
“He did. All the way to the main road. He hardly spoke, but he stayed beside me the whole time. It was rather gallant.”
Claire touched her arm, her tone softening but turning steady. “Eliza, it is fortunate he was there. Truly. But none of it matters. You are promised to another man now.”
The reminder settled heavily between them. Eliza nodded, though the image of the stranger’s face lingered stubbornly.
“I know,” she said. “It changes nothing. But I will remember his kindness.”
Later, as she prepared for bed, she tried to push the memory aside. It was foolish to dwell on him. Tomorrow afternoon, she would meet with her betrothed, the Duke of Sutherland.
The irony of it pressed against her, almost unbearable, yet she could not stop thinking of the man who had stepped out of the shadows and saved her.