Chapter Twenty-Four
Cordelia’s stomach twisted with nausea.
“Dear Lord!” she whispered. “Georgiana—what have you done?”
James climbed out of his bed.
“Ahem.” The footman blushed.
James glanced at his groin, then, his cheeks warming, slipped on his breeches.
“Why are you out of bed, Cordelia?” he said.
“I heard knocking.”
“Did you know anything about my sister’s flight?”
The knots in her stomach tightened. “Of course not!” she said. “Surely you don’t think I’d be party to—”
“No,” he said, sighing, and shook his head. “Forgive me. It’s just…”
“Just what?” she said tartly. “Just I’m a whore, and whores are more likely to—”
She broke off as the footman cleared his throat again.
“You were very eager to warn me about Georgiana and Sir Iain,” James said. “Why was that?”
“Surely you don’t think it’s because I planned their elopement?”
“No, but you seemed to take an interest in that gentleman.”
“And why do you think that was?” Cordelia said. “Did you not say that you were concerned about my former…visitors being among your circle of acquaintance?”
James wrinkled his nose. “Good grief—not Sir Iain?”
Cordelia bit her lip to stem the nausea, then a tear splashed onto her cheek. “I have no wish to deceive you, James.”
“Did he pay well?”
She flinched, then turned her head aside. “He was no different to half of the men of the ton, except for…”
“Except for what?” he said, reaching for his shirt.
“Except that he didn’t always understand that even a whore deserves to be asked if she consents.”
His eyes widened and he froze, his shirt half on. “Surely he didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” she said bitterly. “Do you think that because the woman is a doxy, a man can never be accused of r—”
“Do not say it!” he cried. “Dear Lord! Are you telling me that Sir Iain is the kind of man who’d force himself on a woman? And he’s with my sister? Why the blazes didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then glanced at the footman, his cheeks reddening.
“He threatened to expose my secret, which would ruin your name,” she said. “He said that he was in love with Georgiana and wanted to marry her, but if I tried to prevent it, he would ruin her prospects.”
“And you believed him?”
“It’s how most men of your class behave,” she said. “Men of the ton will treat a woman such as I like a dog if it gives them gratification. Those same men will act with gallantry toward the ladies they court. It’s what defines most men of the ton.”
“Devil’s blood!” James cried. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know,” she said quietly. “But rather than enter into a discussion on the worth of a doxy compared to a baronet, ought we not try to find Georgiana?”
James placed his hand on his forehead as if he were in pain.
Cordelia let out a sharp sigh and turned to the footman. “Charles, wake Edwards and have him saddle Atalanta.”
“Very good, ma’am.” The footman turned to go, and she caught his arm.
“Before that, tell me whether there’s anything you saw or heard that might shed light on where they have gone.”
He blinked, slowly, then shook his head.
“Might anyone else have heard anything?”
“Miss Georgiana’s and Miss Margaret’s rooms are on the other side of the house, away from the guests.”
“Then I must speak to Margaret.”
“Shall I send Tilly to help you dress, ma’am?”
Cordelia shook her head. “The fewer who know about this, the better. Can I rely on your discretion?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Stop!” James cried as the footman turned to go.
“What is it, sir?”
He glanced at Cordelia, penitence in his eyes. “Tell Edwards to saddle Hercules as well.”
Margaret was already awake when Cordelia entered her bedchamber, James in tow. The girl sat up in bed, her face white in the pale light of the oncoming dawn.
“What’s happened?” she said. “Is Georgie ill?”
“No, she’s—” James began, but Cordelia placed a hand on his arm.
“Remember the need for discretion,” she whispered. “Margaret, why might you think your sister’s been taken ill?”
“She was coughing all day, and I heard her saying…” Margaret frowned. “No, she wouldn’t want me to tell on her. She already thinks I’m a nasty sneak.”
James’s mouth set in a grim line. “Margaret, just tell—” he began, his voice harsh.
“You’re not a sneak, Margaret,” Cordelia interrupted, frowning at her husband. “It wasn’t kind of your sister to say such a thing. But we must forgive her if she’s feeling unwell. And you’d want her to get better, wouldn’t you?”
Margaret nodded.
“Then perhaps you might tell me if you heard anything?” Cordelia said. “Is that why you’re awake at this hour?”
“She…” Margaret glanced at James, who sighed and sat on the bed. Though he smiled, Cordelia saw the tremors in his body and the fear in his eyes.
“You’re not angry, James, are you?” Cordelia said.
He met her gaze. “No,” he whispered. “I’m only sorry.” He took Cordelia’s hand and squeezed it. “Very sorry. I’ve been an utter arse, and I don’t deserve you.”
“James!” Margaret said. “You mustn’t curse.”
“Quite right,” he said, forcing a smile, his gaze still fixed on Cordelia, “and when Georgiana’s well again, you must decide my punishment.”
“I’m sure she’ll be well,” Margaret said. “Didn’t you always say that sea bathing is good for the constitution?”
James’s nostrils flared. “You think she’s gone sea bathing? In the middle of the night?”
“Don’t you recall when Dr. Carlton said you were to take me sea bathing?
” Margaret said. “When I had that fever last Christmas, he said the seawater would be beneficial for my health. But you never did. You were always too busy. And now Georgie’s gone off by herself.
She said she always wanted to see the sea. ”
“Where did the doctor say you should go to bathe?” Cordelia said.
“To Winley Regis. I heard Georgiana mention it.”
Cordelia and James exchanged a glance.
“Winley Regis?” he said, his voice tight.
Margaret nodded, and a sob escaped her lips. “Georgie’s not in trouble, is she?”
James set his mouth in a hard line.
“Of course not,” Cordelia said, placing a hand on her husband’s arm. “But it’s best if you don’t tell anyone else what you told us. Now—can you wait here, as quiet as a mouse, until we return? Will you do that for me?”
Margaret nodded, and Cordelia patted her hand, then rose and exited the chamber.
As they closed the door, James spoke.
“You must remain here while I find them.”
“Don’t be a fool,” she replied. “Do you think you’ll be able to bring her back on your own?”
“It could be a long, hard ride,” he said, “and you’re—”
“Don’t even think of telling me that I’m a lady, with all the weaknesses of my sex,” Cordelia said. “I have plenty of experience of dealing with men such as Sir Iain.”
He winced. “Sweet Lord, what if Georgiana’s ruined?”
“Then we address that if it’s happened,” she said. “First we must find her. Come.” She held out her hand.
“Devil’s blood,” he said. “You’re more of a man than I’ll ever be.”
He took her hand, and they set off toward the stables, where Edwards, his shirt half unbuttoned, was leading the two horses out into the stable yard, already saddled.
“What the devil are you about, Your Lordship?” he said, yawning. “I can’t be doin’ with such early jaunts, gaddin’ about the countryside, even if it’s a clear morning.” Then he caught sight of Cordelia and bowed. “Beggin’ your pardon, Your Ladyship.”
“Did Charles tell you what’s happened?” James said.
“Some foolish tale about you wanting a picnic at dawn. I thought the old viscount was eccentric in his ways and you had the sensible head on your shoulders. Not that I mind a bit of adventure, but at a time like this when you have guests, I said to the missus, I said—”
“Yes, yes,” James said with a dismissive wave. Then he helped Cordelia into the saddle before mounting Hercules. “That will be all, Edwards. We can tend to the horses on our return, and there’s no need to tell the guests.”
“Of course, Your Lordship.” Edwards tipped his head, then they set off at a canter.
Though Cordelia had ridden Atalanta several times since her first outing, she was by no means a proficient horsewoman, and as they reached the bottom of the drive, her thighs had begun to ache.
Nevertheless, she nodded her assent when James asked if she was well.
At length, they reached a fork in the road and drew to a halt beside a sign on the verge that read: Winley Regis 3⒈／⒉, with an arrow to the right and Lincoln 25 pointing to the left.
“It’s not far,” Cordelia said, leaning forward to ease the ache in her thighs.
“What if they’re heading for Scotland?” James said. “Lincoln’s not far. They could pick up a mail coach at the White Hart there.”
“Oughtn’t we try Winley first, given that it’s closer?”
“And if they’re not there?” he cried. “A city is much easier to hide in than a smaller resort. If we divert to Winley but they’re going to Lincoln, by the time we get there, they’ll be beyond reach.”
“Then I’ll go to Winley and you to Lincoln,” Cordelia said.
“On your own?”
“Better that than risking losing Georgiana.”
He hesitated, concern in his eyes.
“I’ll be all right, James,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “And everyone else.”
“Then let us make haste, lest we lose her,” Cordelia said. Before he could reply, she spurred her mount on and set off, taking the right fork.
As she rode, the sky ahead began to soften with light.
Then a pink glow began to illuminate the tops of the trees, heralding the sunrise.
Cordelia turned a corner and spotted a dark shape ahead on the side of the road.
She drew near, and the shape took the form of a carriage.
One back wheel had fallen off, and the carriage leaned at a steep angle, its door open.
Three men stood beside the wheel, and Cordelia heard a sharp voice barking orders, and faint sobs coming from inside the carriage.
“Hello there!” she called.
The men glanced up. The sobbing continued and Cordelia caught a harsh voice.
“Desist your mewling, you foolish chit!”
“Georgiana!” Cordelia cried.