Page 80 of An Earl Like You
By the time Hugh reached Greenwich, it was midmorning.
Eliza had not been at home in St. James’s Square, quenching his hope of catching her. Mary, her maid, had been drowsing in the chair by the hearth, and when he woke her she could only stammer that her mistress had gone out the night before without saying where. She’d sent Thomas to hire a hackney carriage and left. Mary had fallen asleep waiting for her to return.
Hugh was not surprised she had gone to Greenwich. He’d told her to go, after all. He was unsettled that she had not come back yet. He gulped down a cup of coffee while his horse was brought around, and set out at once.
All the way down the river he thought about what he would say. Her father had coerced and lied to them both, but that was in the past. The present, and the future, did not need to be tainted by that. The sight of her shocked face, the tears in her eyes, had ripped aside the excuse he’d been hiding behind. Cross had required his vow of secrecy, but Hugh had known all along the truth might cost him dearly. And his response to that knowledge had been to double down on keeping the secret at all costs.
And as for who told her... It didn’t really matter. He should have expected it to happen eventually and taken steps to inoculate himself. It had been in his power all along to tell her the truth, gently and calmly, and like a coward he had shied away from it. And now he was reaping the coward’s bitter reward.
But when he arrived at Cross’s Greenwich mansion, Eliza was not there, either.
“She left early this morning,” Edward Cross said. He didn’t look up at Hugh, only sat at the breakfast table, staring out the window and cradling a coffee cup in his hand.
“Where did she go?” Hugh demanded
Cross heaved a sigh. “I don’t know.” Finally he raised his moody gaze to meet Hugh’s furious one. “Blasted Richard Nesbit told her about the debts.”
Hugh’s jaw clenched. That was what had pleased Livingston last night—he’d bet his last farthing the viscount had put Nesbit up to it, in retaliation for exposing Reggie Benwick’s avarice. “Bugger him,” he said rudely. “I don’t care who told her, I only care to find her and see for myself that she’s well.”
“She was furious last night.” Cross heaved himself out of his chair. “Called me a liar and a deceiver, and accused me of coercing you into loving her.” He gave Hugh a belligerent look. “I never did that. Courting, yes, marriage, perhaps, but not of loving her. Don’t you dare say I did!”
“No,” Hugh bit out. “I fell in love with her because of Eliza herself. That’s the only reason I never told her, you know. If she hadn’t been who she is, I would have told her the day after the wedding and left you to her mercy.”
Cross grunted. “And that was what she wanted! When she was a girl, she’d say to me,Papa, I want someone to love me. When she had her Season, she lamented that none of the young fellows seemed the sort to love someone. Too mad for gambling and carriage racing and drinking at their club! Well, she was right about them—a useless lot, most of theton—so I decided to winnow the field. Find someone capable of love. Someone decent and honorable.”
“Someone deeply in debt,” Hugh couldn’t help adding in a growl.
Cross waved one hand. “Leverage, nothing more. All I wanted was for you to take a look at her. If you did, I was sure you’d see how lovely and warm and wonderful my girl is...” He shrugged.
“Did you never think,” Hugh began, “that if you had cultivated a different sort of acquaintance, or encouraged her to receive gentlemen who shared her interests—?”
“No.” Cross slanted a defiant look at him. “I wanted a proper gentleman for her. She said all the fellows who came around were only after her dowry, so why shouldn’t I make use of that?”
“I was never after her dowry,” said Hugh between his teeth.
“I know. And that made you acceptable.” Cross turned away, to stare out the window again. “It’s the way things are, Hastings. Those without money want it; those with money want to get something of value in return.”
“Is that why you told Robert Grenville to cheat at cards that night I played with him?”
Cross wheeled around. “What? How dare you. Of all the scurrilous—”
“Sir David Southbridge told me,” bit out Hugh. “When he was caught scheming to help Grenville cheat again last night.”
Cross looked startled. “That little—” He flung out one arm violently. “Both of them are capable of it, I suppose. But I never told him to do that. Never. I’m a businessman, not a cheat.”
Hugh had heard enough. He turned and left without a word, although his fury died away as he rode back to London. He didn’t care about Cross anymore. Where had Eliza gone? In desperation, he went to Lady Georgiana’s house, where he found a disconcerting uproar. It seemed Lady Georgiana had snuck out after breakfast without leaving word. Her chaperone, the Countess of Sidlow, was apoplectic.
“That foolish, headstrong girl,” she said, pacing the room. “I thought she’d gone to one of her friends in town, up in arms about something or other and wanting to put me out, but they all disclaim it. I don’t know what I’ll do now—that girl will be the death of me! I told Wakefield time and again that he needed to exert some control over her, and now you see, sir, this is his reward!” She shook her head in a fury. “And Lord Sterling will only put up with so many of her antics before he breaks the betrothal, andthenwhere will she be? Oh, what a fool I was to agree to Wakefield’s terms!”
Hugh thought the woman’s concern should be for her charge, not her employer or herself, but he had a feeling Georgiana might have gone to Eliza—wherever she was. He murmured something vaguely reassuring and, at a loss for the moment, went home.
Mary, the maid, remembered under questioning that, yes, Eliza had written a note before she left. Wilkins added that he had sent it as directed, first thing that morning, to Lady Georgiana Lucas. Hugh was not surprised. It did not tell him where they’d gone, but at least she had a friend with her. In fact, he’d wager the Duchess of Ware was with them, as well.
He slumped in his study chair, letting his head fall back. He hadn’t slept all night, had ridden to Greenwich and back, and was exhausted physically and emotionally. His eyes felt dry and unfocused. If his wife wanted to leave him, should he chase her down, or let her go? After the way they’d argued the night before, perhaps she never wanted to see him again.
“Hugh?”
He forced open his eyes. His mother stood in the study doorway, worried. His sisters peered around her. “May we come in, dear?”
