Chapter Fourteen #3
Yes. She closed her eyes. Yes, he had, hadn’t he? The tenderness. His expressions throughout the past two days, expressions melding an impossible combination of longing, hope and devastation. The very act of giving her his name. He did love her, didn’t he?
Withholding her own love had seemed necessary. Guarding her heart her top priority. But now, facing the chance Neville might have been taken against his will, the chance she might never see him again, that same organ threatened to burst.
Please. Please. Please. Please don’t let him be hurt. Please bring him back to me. Please give me the chance to tell him how I feel.
Prayer without action was faith without works—dead.
She would not lose him, she reaffirmed, not just in prayer but in resolution, a vow between herself and the Almighty.
Neville had gathered an army of friends and found a way to help her when she was in need. She too, would enlist anyone she needed to enlist. And with their help—and, perhaps, a touch of divine intervention—she would find a way to help Neville now.
Cassie returned with Neville’s valet.
“Gerard!” Millie pushed past her sister. “Has Cassie told you what’s happened?”
“The duchess did not need to tell me.” Gerard’s face was grim. “I just received word from his Lordship’s housekeeper.” He nodded at Lady Neville. “After her ladyship left, she thoroughly searched the house. I regret to say the new footman is missing, too.”
“Mark,” Lady Neville murmured with a hint of derision Millie did not understand.
“Yes,” Gerard confirmed. “And a young lad employed as a tiger says he saw Mark in a scuffle in the mews this morning.”
“Then Neville has been taken,” Millie whispered.
“Possibly,” Gerard replied. “Try not to worry, my lady. If Mark meant to take his lordship’s life, he could have done so there in the mews.”
Neville. Taken. By Willard. Her mind knew the truth, but her body rebelled. This morning, he’d been warm beside her. Real. Safe. Hers.
“My lady?”
She refocused on the present. Cassie, Lady Neville, Gerard…they were all watching. Waiting for her to… what? Collapse? Weep? She’d never done any of that.
She hadn’t wept when her father raged. Nor had she wept when her mother died. She hadn’t even wept when they sold Willowhurst. Weeping changed nothing.
Mr. Winter had taught her better.
When the fox came for the hens, you didn’t cry. You loaded the rifle. You tracked. You protected what was yours.
And Neville was hers now, just as she was his.
She glanced between Gerard’s stoic expression, Cassie’s concern, and Lady Neville’s anger, growing more centered by the moment. Her hunter’s instinct, a sense of vigilant calm, superseded fret born of inaction.
Gerard was right.
Willard thrived on the game. He wouldn’t rob himself of the triumph of whatever he had planned. She still had time to intervene.
Neville had mentioned learning something about a lodge and a Runner.
She turned to speak directly to Gerard. “Lady Neville has just discovered that Willard has taken refuge at his maternal uncle’s lodge. Neville told me he hired a Runner to investigate a lodge based on a witness’s letter. That cannot be a coincidence.”
“Likely not,” Gerard agreed.
“Do you have the missive with the lodge’s specific direction?” she asked.
Gerard nodded. “The original copy is with Mr. Dixon, the Runner. But I have a copy upstairs.”
Then to the lodge she would go. At the very least, the Runner must be made aware of Neville’s peril. With any luck, she could work with the man to find either Willard, or better, Neville, before Willard executed any further plans.
“I know this is unusual,” she asked Gerard, “but will you see me upstairs?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“You can’t mean to go after him,” Cassie said.
“No one,” Millie replied calmly, “is going to stop me.”
“But you just can’t ride off after him,” Cassie sputtered. “You just can’t.”
“I can,” Millie replied. “I am a married lady now. I don’t have to have a chaperone wherever I go.”
“Aunt Jane—tell her she can’t.”
Millie turned to her mother-in-law. “You’ve done your part, Lady Neville. Will you trust me to do mine?”
“I would urge caution.” Lady Neville carefylly chose her words.
“I will take care, I promise. But I must at least get word to the Runner. Please understand. I cannot remain still, not while Neville is in danger.”
Lady Neville’s expression softened. “Ambrose told me he trusts you.” She sighed. “I had better trust you, too.”
Briefly, Millie embraced Lady Neville. Then, she led Gerard up the stairs.
A good rider could make Brighton in about five hours on a healthy horse. Unfortunately, Millie no longer owned a horse. But Asquith did. And Asquith had the best stables even before she counted the beauty she’d met the prior night.
Gerard stepped inside the bedchamber, and she closed the door behind them.
“I’ll need you to dress me in Neville’s clothes.”
Gerard eyed her, head to toe. “His clothes, my lady—”
She opened her mouth to insist.
“—Or Harbury livery?”
“Genius.” Millie exhaled gratefully. “No one ever pays footmen any mind, do they? I’d be much safer dressed as staff.”
Gerard inclined his head. “If my lady will wait here just a moment.”
“Of course.”
As Gerard disappeared via the servants’ entrance, Millie stepped in front of the mirror.
She pulled off her cap and began flattening and pinning her hair.
Unlike Cassie’s efforts on the prior day, Millie’s fastened locks of hair left only a fringe across her forehead and an unframed, severe face.
Neither were entirely masculine, but the look was not so feminine as to give away her gender at first glance.
She remembered how Neville had described his reaction to learning she’d stolen Asquith’s clothes to ride astride. I’d a devil of a time getting the image out of my head.
Well, Auggie, I’m coming. With luck, you soon won’t have to imagine any longer.
Gerard reentered the room carrying a pile of dark clothes.
“I conferred with Marsden, the duke’s valet.
We thought these a better fit and more suited to your purpose.
The duchess’s maid is on her way here to help you prepare,” he said.
“Meanwhile, I will secure a bit of padding in the shoulders of a greatcoat.”
Millie nodded her appreciation. “You are an excellent man.”
“I would go myself…”
“No,” Millie replied. “Better you stay here in case we receive contrary information.”
Gerard nodded and then excused himself as Cassie’s maid arrived.
Working with the maid, Millie bound her breasts and then donned the livery.
Faster than Millie would have thought possible, she transformed into a passable man.
Since she’d long ago learned to mimic Mr. Winter’s stance, by the time they were finished, she looked into the mirror and felt as if she were gazing at a friend she had not seen in some time.