Page 26 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
“I am, but I’m serving Lady Jane Montfort here for a time.”
“That is true,” Jane said.“May we enter, Mr.Lewis?”
He pulled the door wide and scooped up their bags one-handed, while the older lady ushered them into the kitchen.
Mr.Lewis introduced her as his wife.“Our little Jenny has done well for herself,” he told his wife, “though I’m wondering why she’s appeared on our doorstep with her lady and is entering through the kitchen door.”
This came with another smile that eased Jane’s nerves.Jenny had promised she’d be welcomed at this house, which belonged to Lady Steven Hackwell.Jane was acquainted with the warmhearted lady, an eccentric, a bluestocking, and a not entirely acceptable member of theton.Before her marriage, the former Annabelle Harris had filled this home with children like Jenny.
Her own presence here, if known, would likely bring more gossip down on Lady Hackwell.She had business to see to, and an important call to make, but she mustn’t stay long.
“We’re but seeking a few night’s shelter,” Jane said.“With the crush of the coronation, the inns and hotels are filled.I’m acquainted with Lady Hackwell and will send her a note tonight.Jenny suggested the lady wouldn’t mind our presence.I do have a friend I may lodge with when she returns to town in a few days.”
There.That was the story they’d prepared, and one the Lewises readily accepted.
They ushered her to a bedchamber and served her a warm meal on a dinner tray, while Jenny helped her out of her dress and into one of Lady Hackwell’s old dressing gowns, and brought her ink and paper.
Later, Jenny slipped out to see to the letters to Lady Hackwell, Jane’s dear friend, Barton, and Madame La Fanelle.
When the girl had left, Jane picked up the two rolling pins she’d taken from the Gorse Point Cottage kitchen and examined them.Both were undamaged.The striped tube she set aside as a gift for Mrs.Lewis.She placed the gold painted one carefully on the fireplace mantle, bracing it with a heavy candle holder, and then went to the chair by the dead fireplace and waited.
Shaldon gazedout of the window of the dark coach, watching a stream of porters and maids and ladies entering and leaving the busy modiste’s shop.
“You were up all last night,” Kincaid said.“Let me take this watch, and you get some rest.”
It had been little more than twenty-four hours since he’d received confirmation of Lady Jane’s disappearance, just as his daughter and her new husband were departing St.George’s for their wedding breakfast.
He’d left that celebration early.
Where had Lady Jane Montfort gone?
“What of the Duque’s movements?”he asked.
“The usual.Balls, gaming hells, and brothels.Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Fear gnawed in his stomach.He’d sent men to all of Jane’s London acquaintances, as well as to the home of her only relative, her cousin, Lord Cheswick.No one had seen Lady Jane or the maid, Jenny, who’d also gone missing.
Where the devil was Jane?
She’d stirred his suspicions and he’d ignored them.He’d misjudged her.
The temptation to touch her, to test her reactions, to seduce her if she would let him, had overwhelmed him.He’d pushed her too hard.He’d frightened her away.She’d bolted, as Kincaid had predicted, and now she might be in danger.
“That man of the Duque’s, the Major, arrived back in town,” Kincaid said.“Might have been him behind the attack on Boyd.Follow him, and we’ll find the painting.”
Boyd MacEwen and his men escorting the painting to Cransdall had been set upon on the road; one had been killed, the rest wounded.The attackers—and the painting—had vanished.
Had the Duque’s man taken Jane also?
He couldn’t think about the painting with Jane missing.In any case, no doubt, the Duque had taken it.
“Remember that Lady Jane was seen on the London stage line,” Kincaid said, reading his thoughts.
“A sighting based on a shawl.”
“A very distinctive and valuable shawl.Ewan says it was her.By now, she’s arrived here.I’ve men checking all the inns and her last lodgings, but never you fear; your lady will find her way to her old friend, Barton, soon enough.”
Kincaid’s smug certainty grated.“Or perhaps she’ll seek out her new friend, Madame La Fanelle.”He glanced at Kincaid and caught a flash of anger in his longtime acquaintance’s face.“And there’s the lovely Madame as we speak, boarding a hackney with an armful of dresses.She’s a wealthy tradeswoman now and as attractive as when you first met her in France.Perhaps you should followher.”
