Chapter 15 #2
“I know it is incredibly rude of me, Greer, and it’s wickedly cold tonight, but would you join Carrigan in the box for the ride to Violet House?”
Her maid blinked, only pausing at the odd request a moment before nodding. “Of course, Your Grace.”
If she suspected something afoot, she made no remark about it. Carrigan, too, acted as he always did, handing her up inside and latching the door shut. The only difference tonight was the inside of the carriage. The single small interior lantern was unlit, and for good reason.
“Sir said you were unharmed. Is that true?”
Hugh’s voice came through the darkness to her immediate left.
She had taken the forward-facing bench out of habit, and apparently, Hugh had selected the same one.
Audrey turned toward him, but could see nothing, her eyes not yet having adjusted.
Carrigan had also pulled the window hangings, so streetlamp lights could not enter.
She was taking no risks. After dropping her off about an hour ago, her driver had traveled a few streets over to collect Hugh and hide him within the carriage before traveling back to the mews behind Michael and Genie’s home to wait with the other conveyances and drivers.
The foot brazier had been stoked, and the orange glow of the coals through the grate was the only bit of light in the carriage.
“He didn’t harm me,” she said, having anticipated Hugh’s discontent.
“When I find who it was, he won’t be able to say the same.”
The threat was not hollow; Hugh would see it through.
“I would appreciate it if you would at least leave him somewhat conscious so he can feel my palm across his cheek.”
“Gladly,” he replied. “Is there anything about him you remember? Did you see his face?”
“I didn’t. I should have grasped some of his coat to try and see something, some vision.
But I’m afraid I was much too startled and frightened.
” Her mind seemed to need to be clear and calm to be effective with her ability.
“He smelled like a poorly mucked horse barn, and he had coarse hands. That’s all I can recall. ”
A beat of silence. Then, Hugh nearly growled, “He put his hands on you?”
The fine hair on her arms lifted. “Only to muffle my scream. Truly, I am unharmed.”
He exhaled a rasping sound of fury from low in his throat.
“We don’t have long,” he said. “Tell me what you found in Potridge’s office.”
“I will. But first, when is your birthday?” she asked.
“Why, are you throwing me a party?”
“I’m serious, Hugh.”
“So am I. I enjoy cake.”
“Hugh.” Audrey sealed her lips when she heard him chuckle. Even though it was dark, she could picture his crooked grin.
“April fifteenth,” he answered, humor still lightening his tone.
Audrey, however, felt a stone lodge in her stomach. “Of 1793?”
“That’s correct.”
Carrigan had started toward Curzon Street, the wheels rattling over the cobbled streets. She had requested him to take a meandering route, to give her more time.
“That can’t be right,” she whispered as she thought of the contracts she’d read several times the previous day—when she’d still possessed them.
“I assure you, I know my own birth date,” Hugh returned.
“But…you see there were two contracts, both drawn and signed in May of that year. One between the viscount and April Barlow, agreeing upon an annual sum. A generous amount. She could certainly have operated her school with it. And the second contract was between the viscount and Catherine Marsden.” She paused, recognizing how awkward and painful the details of the contract might be to him.
“Don’t stop on account of whatever sentiments you think I am suffering from,” he said, deducing the reason for her hesitation.
He was right. There could be no avoiding it. “She was given an annual sum as well for the care and keeping of a male child aged six months until the child reached age seventeen.”
Not only had Catherine Marsden not been his birth mother, as he had always believed, she had also been paid to care for him. However, that insult was not what he appeared to focus on.
“Aged six months?” he repeated.
She had felt his warmth, his presence, even if in the dark, but now her eyes were beginning to adjust. They made out his brawny figure next to her on the bench.
“I do not believe you were born in April,” she whispered. “You would have been one month, not six, if that were the case. Hugh…when was Bartholomew born?”
If her calculations were correct, the answer would be January. He confirmed it. Audrey’s heart pounded as the truth came clear. “You were born first.”
He shifted, and his clothing rustled.
“Even if that is true,” he began, “my father married the viscountess the previous year. I am still a bastard, whether I am older than Barty or not.”
More calculations streamed through her mind, and considering how astute the Bow Street officer was, she knew he, too, was working them out.
“If you were born in November,” she began, “you were conceived in March or thereabouts, of 1792. When were the viscount and viscountess married?”
He didn’t answer straightaway, though Audrey knew he knew.
“May,” he finally said, his words soft. “But none of that matters if he and April Barlow simply had a tryst a few months before the wedding.”
She took a shallow breath. “What if it was more than that?”
“More?” Hugh turned toward her. “What do you insinuate?” The deep tenor of his voice vibrated down into her bones.
If he directed that tone toward anyone else, they might have stiffened and braced for some kind of violence.
Audrey, however, only longed to touch him in some way, to soothe him.
Hugh knew what she insinuated, but he was becoming angry and didn’t want to face the possibility.
Carrigan directed the horses, making a familiar sharp turn. His circuitous route had been far briefer than she’d hoped. They were closing in on Curzon Street.
“You said Sir Robert admitted that they ran off together for a short while,” she reminded Hugh. “Do you not think they might have run off to Gretna Green?”
“No.” His tone brooked no argument. Audrey ignored it.
“If they married—”
“They didn’t.”
“But if they had, and then your father left her for whatever reason—”
“He would never have done something so despicable,” he interjected.
She forged onward. “His marriage to the viscountess would have been bigamous. Their children, illegitimate. Bartholomew would be ruined. Exactly as Eloisa promised.”
There. She’d said it. Audrey drew a long breath and waited for Hugh to respond. She was still waiting when Carrigan slowed to turn into Violet House’s half-moon drive.
“You’re staying in the stables tonight,” she rushed to say. “Carrigan has made a space for you, away from the others.”
“I can’t. It’s too dangerous. There might be someone following me. Lady Reed is dead, and only hours after we met at St. George’s. In fact, I’ve had Thornton place someone on watch outside Violet House, in case my meeting with you has put you in danger too.”
His voice was flat, emotionless. He was attempting to avoid what she had said.
“I’m not in any danger, not with foot patrolmen ambling past Violet House several times an hour. Hugh, please—”
“Was there a certificate of proof in the folio?”
Her cresting hope faltered. “No.”
But if they had gone to Gretna Green in Scotland to elope, as eager and desperate lovers often did, there would be record of it in the marriage register there.
“I cannot be heir, Audrey,” Hugh said softly. “I do not want the title. I have no desire to challenge Barty for it.”
She held her breath as she turned toward him. Her knees brushed against his leg. “I know.”
Hugh had been spurned all his life, treated wretchedly by those who thought themselves above him. He’d been exiled from even his lowly place as bastard ward. He despised the ton. The idea of becoming a member of it must have been appalling to him.
“You must find April Barlow,” she said. “She is the only one who will know the truth.”
If she is still alive. Which begged the question: Why hadn’t she been killed that night at the school, rather than just warned off?
“She has a sister,” Hugh said. “Thornton is looking into where I can find her.”
Audrey nodded. She wasn’t close with her own older sister, Millie, but if she were ever in any sort of danger or need, Audrey would never deny her. Despite their past and their many differences, she hoped Millie would do the same for her.
Carrigan drew the horses to a stop. In another moment, he would descend from the driving box and open the door.
“I would sleep better if you stayed,” she said. “Please. Carrigan will keep you hidden.”
More of Hugh’s handsome face was visible now in the dark. He shifted his shoulders so that he faced her on the bench. “Promise me you won’t come out to the stables tonight.”
She sat straighter, surprised at the request. Even more surprising was that she hadn’t realized the temptation lingered in the back of her mind. Hugh had known it before even she.
“Even mule-headed men like me have Achilles’ heels,” he added. He could see her better too, for he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek.
“You consider me your weakness?” she asked, uncertain how she felt about that. It didn’t feel much like a compliment.
“Not at all. It is my desire for you that is my weakness.”
Audrey bit her lip, her blood heating at his confession. “I won’t come to the stables, if that is what you want.”
He exhaled, though it was touched by a soft groan. His thumb caressed her cheek, and through the dark, his lips found hers. She leaned forward, the press of his mouth like a magnet. The stirring need for another ravenous embrace, similar to the other night, whisked away all thought, all reason.
But Hugh maintained reason for them both. Before the kiss could intensify any further, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.
“What I want is for you to be safe from danger. From now on, keep a weapon on your person at all times. A knife, if not a muff pistol. Understood?”
She nodded, her pulse quickening. She was a terrible shot, and she wasn’t sure she could wield a knife well either.
“Audrey, when this is all over—” he started to say, but they had taken too long. The door opened, and Carrigan announced he would help her descend when she was ready.
“Go,” Hugh said, not finishing his thought. It was too cold to leave her driver and maid standing outside, waiting. “I will stay.”
With at least a little relief, Audrey left the carriage. But until he found April Barlow and the truth, neither of them would rest easy.