Page 46 of To Claim the Long-Lost Lover
“Her demands are met only if her information proves true,” Yousef suggested. “Her own life depends on her truth-telling.” He shrugged and addressed Uncle James. “If you are willing, Yakub.”
Uncle James frowned. “I dislike it, but it may be the best way to find and get rid of the vermin who are destroying all we are trying to do for those in need.”
Sarah nodded to Ruth. “Our main goal must be to protect the schools and clinics and refuges, those who work in them, and those who turn to them for help. I agree with Ruth.”
“What does Aldridge think?” Charlotte wondered, but apparently Aldridge had departed for Haverford Castle, leaving his mother in charge of his unwanted guest.
“The duchess will abide by our decision,” Uncle James said.
Nate had a question of his own. “What of the Duke of Richport?”
“Gone,” Uncle James replied. “His household here in London is closed up. His man of business says he left days ago for an extended world tour, but at the docks they told me that his ship sailed this afternoon.”
“So, he escapes unpunished?” Nate growled.
The duke shrugged. “The bawd would not name him, and the men claim not to have met ‘the gentleman’ or to have been told who he is. He has gone, Nate. We will have to leave it at that. At least for the moment.”
“The next point to discuss is how to present Nate’s and Sarah’s marriage to the Beau Monde,” Ruth said.
“I plan to leave that to you ladies,” Uncle James, “but I should tell you that the Duchess of Haverford is planning to visit tomorrow afternoon, once your mother and aunt arrive. She has some ideas on that matter.”
“The duchess is an expert in the politics of the women’s court,” Ruth agreed. “She will be useful, Sarah. Father, we ladies shall manage the story of my cousin’s marriage, and leave you gentlemen to get rid of the vermin.”
* * *
The next day, two rooms in the Winshire townhouse took on the aspect of war rooms. The duke’s study became the venue for the campaign to find and stop Wharton and his allies. Nate was included in the discussions, but soon discovered that only Arthur Beauclair had less experience in such planning than he, and even Cousin Arthur, with his experience at the Middlesex end of the Theodora Foundation, had more practical knowledge of slum life in London than did Nate.
Val Ashbury was a battle-hardened commander of men, and so were the duke and his sons, though they had learned in a different school, far away in Central Asia.
Nate made himself as useful as he could, conveying messages to and from other great houses, in between carrying out his duties at the temporary clinic that Ruth had established in a warehouse belonging to Lord Aldridge, and stealing moments with his wife and his son.
Sarah had commitments in the second of the war rooms: the ladies’ drawing room. As predicted, Her Grace the Duchess of Haverford arrived shortly after Sarah’s mother, the Dowager Lady Sutton, and her aunt, Lady Georgiana Winderfield.
Within the hour, Sarah came looking for Nate. “My mother and my aunts wish to meet you, Nate.” He took her hand, feeling unaccountably nervous. Lady Sutton had every reason to despise the man who had run off with her daughter and then abandoned her, even if he had reasons, good reasons, for both actions.
He felt no better when he arrived in the drawing room, where three great ladies of Society sat side by side like justices in a courtroom, though they were seated on a long sofa behind a low table. Around them a number of other richly dressed ladies occupied chairs and couches. In his fancy, they would be the jury in the coming trial.
Sarah bobbed a curtsy. “Aunt Eleanor? Mama? Aunt Georgie? May I make known to you my husband, Lord Bentham?”
Nate bowed to each of them. He had seen the duchess at various entertainments this season; Lady Sutton, he recognised from years ago, when she’d attended church from Applemorn, which made the third Lady Georgiana, the duke’s sister.
Sarah continued around the room. Charlotte, he knew, and Ruth. He also recognised the duchess’s ward, Miss Grenford, with whom he had danced on the night he first waltzed with Sarah, who sat side by side with her sister, Lady Hamner.
The lady with the infant on her knee was the younger Lady Sutton. She was married to the duke’s eldest son, who had arrived this afternoon with his wife and daughter, and immediately taken command of a large segment of the battle planning that continued in the study.
Nate was also presented to Lady Georgiana’s friend, Miss Chalmers, and Lady Rosemary, another daughter of the duke.
Once he had been conducted around the room, he was instructed to sit. “There, Lord Bentham, if you please,” said the dowager Lady Sutton. She pointed to a chair that had been placed a few feet away from and facing the long sofa. Again, he was uncomfortably reminded of a trial, an impression that was reinforced when Lady Sutton and Lady Georgiana nodded at the duchess, and she spoke.
“We are Sarah’s godmother, mother, and aunt, Lord Bentham. We have stood beside her and suffered with her since you persuaded her to cast propriety to the wind and abscond with you and then disappeared.”
She put up a hand when Nate opened his mouth, and he closed it again. She waited for a moment, as if to see whether he intended to continue his interruption, then nodded to Lady Sutton, who continued, “We understand that you were not responsible for your own abduction, but we wish to hear your explanation for the rest. Why did you elope with Sarah? Why did you not write to her? Why did you not return as soon as you were able?”
Lady Georgiana spoke next. “Sarah is satisfied. We understand that. But we saw what she went through, and Elias suffered too. If we are to promote the cause of your marriage to theton, Lord Bentham, we must have some assurance that their happiness is important to you. And your past record is not reassuring.”
Sarah put her hand on Nate’s shoulder and protested, “Aunt Georgie!”
But Lady Sutton said, “We failed you seven years ago, Sarah, when we should have been your defence against your father and grandfather. We could not bear to fail you again.”
