Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Jonathan followed Robinson to a carriage he didn’t recognize. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall ever seeing this particular crest—an intricate wreath encircling an S.
“We can take my carriage,” Jonathan offered, even though he had no idea where they were going.
“Get in,” Robinson said, pointing at the conveyance marked with the fancy S. “And be quick about it.”
This was probably for the best since the Davenport horses were happily munching on hay at the moment.
Whale, who had struggled to keep pace with them as they ran across the field, finally caught up to them. Sweat coated his brow, and his chest heaved as he gulped air.
“Whale, please tell Franny and Josie that we had to go to Thorn Manor,” Robinson said. “Can you remember that? Lord Davenport and I went to Thorn Manor to save Gen.”
At least Jonathan now knew where they were headed.
Whale nodded, his expression deadly serious. “Thorn Manor to save Miss Ghost.”
“Good man,” Robinson said. He shoved Jonathan toward the open door.
Jonathan climbed into an already occupied carriage. A young man had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a pipsqueak of a girl who couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. A well-dressed man sat on the other side of the child. Concern radiated from all three passengers.
Jonathan reached for his hat, intending to doff it in a polite greeting, only to discover he’d lost it somewhere along the way.
More than likely, when a large human had catapulted into him, thus introducing his forehead to the hard ground.
Jonathan exhaled his last dollop of pride.
It seemed that falling in love had a way of humbling even the smuggest of men.
“We need to go,” Robinson yelled to the driver as he flung himself into the carriage and pulled the door closed. He dropped onto the empty seat. “I am sorry. We were too late,” he told the other passengers. “We need to head back to Thorn Manor.”
Jonathan plunked his arse onto the squab beside Robinson. “Too late for what?”
“To help Gen,” the young man seated across from him said as the carriage lurched forward.
As fear infused his blood, Jonathan regarded his unknown traveling companions. All three of them had wide blue eyes.
Gen’s eyes.
“Sophia and Christopher?” he asked.
The young man nodded.
Years of pristine breeding and etiquette abandoned Jonathan in his befuddlement.
“Where is Genevieve? What happened to her?” He glared at the man he suspected was Gen’s father.
When he’d seen the man inside the building, Jonathan thought he’d had on a worn brown waistcoat.
Now that he was closer, he could see it was bluish-gray and exquisitely tailored.
On further inspection, perhaps this was not the same coat. Or the same man, for it were, Gen would be in the carriage with them.
“Lord Shipley, meet Viscount Jonathan Davenport,” Robinson said. “Lord Davenport, this is Geneveive Bailey’s uncle, the Earl of Shipley, and her siblings, Christopher Bailey and Sophia Bailey.”
Jonathan’s thoughts spun, trying to make sense of what was happening. Alas, he had no clue. “I must confess, I am at a disadvantage, because I do not understand anything that has happened in the last fifteen minutes.”
“Let me explain,” Robinson said.
“Please,” Jonathan said while trying to school trepidation.
“My investigations into Genevieve’s true identity led me to the earl,” Robinson said.
Jonathan had managed to deduce this much.
“I did not know how far my brother had spiraled,” the earl declared, his voice quivering.
“It has been years since I’ve seen Arthur.
He forced me from his home at pistol point years ago, and I have not visited since.
In truth, I have done everything to avoid him.
” The earl wrung his gloved hands. “I knew he would kill me for… well… my predilections.”
Jonathan held his tongue since mentioning the earl’s cuckolding predilections wasn’t appropriate conversation in front of the young girl. Not that Gen’s mother deserved her tragic fate.
“Once I expressed my concerns,” Robinson explained, “Lord Shipley accompanied me to Thorn Manor.”
“Uncle and Mr. Robinson showed up just in time,” Christopher added.
“I was preparing to leave and go after Father, when I realized I didn’t know where he was headed.
All I knew was that he had gone after my sister—with nefarious intent, no doubt.
Luckily, Mr. Robinson knew Gen was at the Duke of Griffendale’s mill.
You see, Father has become increasingly erratic since Gen left, and now I fear for our safety, especially Gen’s, so we must hurry.
I know him well enough to know that he will not rest until he has her locked away at Thorn Manor.
Probably in the cellar, where he tried to keep me whenever he wanted to punish me.
Melvin, our butler, and Mrs. Whistler, our cook, sneaked me food, and, after a while, helped me escape anytime I needed fresh air.
Of course, I could not leave the property for good, because I would never abandon Sophia. ”
Moaning, the earl rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t know what you were going through. I swear. Although I suppose I should have. He has always been cruel.”
“How do you know he is taking her to Thorn Manor?” Jonathan asked.
“He gave Melvin a missive to send to Lord Kilsby,” Christopher said. “Since Melvin has also become concerned about my father’s excessive drinking and violent tantrums, he brought the missive to me yesterday after Father left.” Christopher slid his hand into his pocket, producing a folded note.
Jonathan winced. It would take him hours to decipher the message in a moving carriage without his shield. “Please read it to me. That is, if it is appropriate for the young miss to hear.”
The line of her lips stoically firm, the girl lifted her chin. “I know everything that is happening, my lord.”
It warmed his heart to learn that Sophia Bailey was as intrepid as her sister.
“Kilsby,” Christopher read. “I found Genevieve and am going after her. She will not give you another moment of trouble. I will see to it. If you want her unscarred, be at Thorn Manor two days hence. Any later than that, and I cannot guarantee her pleasant appearance. This should clear my debts. AB”
“May the devil smite him dead,” Jonathan declared. It might be days before Kilsby received the missive, which meant Arthur Bailey had every intention of harming Genevieve.
Tears glistened in Sophia’s eyes. She swallowed and wiped them away. “Why must Father be so cruel? I hate him.”
Her brother bopped her nose. “I hate him too, Mouse.” Christopher’s gaze met Jonathan’s. “Sir, are you in love with Genevieve?”