Page 56 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
“The main road back to the Manor. Wait! Can you let me see your letter, sir, please? I threw mine in the fire.” Courtland handed it over and he read the words so similar to his own missive. “There! They stopped on the main road home at a public coach house. TheHorse and Dog. Willa went in to the place and never came out!”
“Right you are. So what’s wrong with the De Courcy grooms? Would they not stay and search for her? I’d tear the place down piece by piece!”
“They did. For an hour or so, but then they left. Ahhh.” Charlie lifted a finger, then shook it at the fire. “She paid them.”
“Who?”
“The owners of theHorse and Dog.” He smiled but the satisfaction was fleeting. “She paid them, that wily girl.”
“Well, where was she when they searched for her?”
He shrugged. “In an attic? In the cellars? A wardrobe?”
“And then she waited until they tired. Waited and—”
“Off she went.” Charlie sat back.
The poor viscount was so befuddled, he slumped. “I don’t understand women.”
“A life long endeavor, it is. But if we understand just one, I think we’ve won.”
“Really?” Courtland stared at him. “My wife’s taken to her bed, you know. Cries we are the misfits of the Season. Moans, shrieks. The house sounds like a morgue or an asylum. What to do. What to do.”
“Sir,” Charlie said at length, “I’m going to have to leave for a few days.”
Courtland nodded. “Of course, you are, dear boy. You’ve been my only solace in this storm, Charlie. Well, hell. Might you have any brandy to assuage my loss of your excellent company?”
“I do, sir.” He rose to pour them both a good measure. “May I have the loan of one of your excellent mounts?”
“Absolutely. And I have a purse to fund your travels, too.”
“Thank you, sir. I do accept.”
“I have faith in you, Charlie. Find Willa.”
“I promise you I will turn Heaven and Earth to do it.”
* * *
Brighton, England
Monday, May 6, 1816
“Excuse me, please, Miss Stanley.” Her employer, Vicomtesse Grizard, was all eyes and ears for her butler’s announcement of the arrival of her guest. “I must speak with Lord Dalforth about our wedding arrangements. But I shall return to our conversation as soon as possible.”
“Of course. I will continue to order the school room while Master Robert and Master Antoine play in the garden.” Wills stepped aside and let the lady pass through to the hall.
She envied her. Envied the young widow her poise, her lovely children, her home—and her dashing betrothed.
Wills shook her head and scolded herself for such unkind thoughts. Vicomtesse Grizard had been nothing but good to her. Since her arrival here three days ago to the coastal town of Brighton, Wills had rejoiced at the warmer, sunnier weather. More than that, she’d welcomed the friendliness of the woman who was her taskmaster and valued the ease with which they’d become acquainted.
The fact that she immediately rememberedMadameas Miss Luella Parker from Miss Shipley’s School was a subject she had not broached with the lady. Shocked to recognize her the first instant she gazed upon the Vicomtesse, Wills was conflicted about bringing her recollection to her attention. To do so would require her to reveal her real name, her status, and her reason for her false declarations in her employment. She did not wish to declare she was a liar, let alone a runaway daughter of an earl who oddly sought employment as a servant.
Wills had committed herself to this woman, this job and her plan. She was to be governess to the lady’s two young sons, ages six and seven, and in particular to focus on developing their French language skills. As sons of the deceasedemigreof France Andre Louis DuPre, Vicomte Grizard, Robert and Antoine had been invited by the restored Bourbon King Louis XVIII to reclaim their father’s lands in Belmont, north of Lyon. But the man’s widow, the Vicomtesse, was English. She feared for her sons’ lives should the French decide to revolt once again and rid themselves of any and all aristocrats. However, the lady’s most important reason for remaining in England was her recent decision to accept the proposal of the English Viscount Dalforth.
At the sound of the boys’ laughter, Wills went to the tall windows overlooking Madame’s lush rose garden. The weather, so unusually cool this spring, had not yet encouraged many buds to blossom. But the garden, shielded from the harsh winds off the Channel by the stately height and breadth of the townhouse, had sprung forth with abundant greenery. Flowers would surely bloom here this year.
As I hope I will.
