Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness: The Baxendale Sisters Book 3 (17 page)

“Oh! You had someone follow her?” Hope jumped to her feet. “Why that seems so…intrusive! Perhaps she felt she had to be secretive.”

Daniel stood and gazed down at her outraged face. “It was for her safety. When she insisted I dismiss Mrs. Crisp, I couldn’t allow Sophie to go about in London unescorted, the way she did in York. Not with me out of the country and knowing how imprudent she can be.” He hated to see doubt in Hope’s eyes. “Do you understand why I had to keep her safe?”

“Well, yes, now I do see. And once she’d come to stay here, she should have been safe. And I failed….” Her voice hitched miserably. “I’m so overset I’ve forgotten my manners.” She gazed distractedly at the door. “You have come a long way and must be in need of something to eat and drink. May I offer you something? Coffee and sandwiches perhaps? Sophie said you don’t care for tea.”

The thought of Sophie at the mercy of some unscrupulous scoundrel made him bite down on a curse. “No, thank you. I’ll take my leave. I doubt your parents will have learned anything more, and I must go after her. Sophie and this man will have been forced to put up at an inn on the toll road last night. There’s a good chance they’ll be heading north, perhaps even as far as Gretna Green in Scotland.”

“I’ll worry until I receive word that she’s all right. I wish I could come with you,” Hope said, her voice trembling.

She looked so distressed. Daniel reached for her and drew her into his arms. She came willingly and leaned against him. “I hope you don’t blame yourself,” he murmured, breathing in her delicate flowery scent. “This business lies entirely at the door of my half-sister.” He wanted to stay there forever, his hands on her slender back, but he released her. “I am sorely tempted to box Sophie’s ears when I catch up with her. But please don’t despair, I
will
find her. I shall relay any information to you the moment I have it.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said in an unsteady voice, her face flushed.

He wanted to ask if felicitations with Winslow were in order, but there was no point. He couldn’t take a bride to France and subject her to danger, not until those who wanted him dead were dealt with. He bowed and quit the room before he gave in to the impulse.

As he strode to his carriage, a girl with fair plaits crossed the gravel drive with a big golden-haired hound in tow. The dog showed his teeth and growled.

She patted his large head. “Down, Wolf.”

Wolf obligingly sat.

Daniel bowed his head. “I believe you are Lady Mercy.”

She bobbed a curtsey. “I am, Your Grace.”

“I am relieved to see your beauty was not spoiled by your recent accident.”

Her eyes clouded and she put a hand to a tiny red mark on her chin. “I’ve been improving my nose with an implement I fashioned from a piece of wire.” She gave a trembling sigh.

Daniel saw it and his heart filled with sympathy. “Your nose is classical, Lady Mercy,” he said lending gravitas to his tone. “I feel it would be a shame to alter the shape.”

He was rewarded with a grateful smile which lit her blue eyes. “Oh, do you think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

She studied his waiting carriage. “Father says phaetons are dangerous.”

“When they are raced, most certainly. But any vehicle is dangerous if you’re reckless or unskilled.” He leapt up into the carriage and released the reins. His greys stamped their hooves, keen to be gone. “I bid you adieu, Lady Mercy.”

She offered him a small, shy smile. “
Au revoir
, Your Grace. Come, Wolf.” Mercy walked back to the house with her faithful hound in tow.

Another pretty Baxendale girl to set London ablaze in a few years. Daniel guided his team down the carriage drive. He turned to gaze back at the handsome house, which was not a rambling gothic nightmare like some but a charming, well-proportioned dwelling, built of local sandstone and set amongst pretty gardens.
A family home
, he thought, with a flash of yearning. Something that seemed more remote to him than ever.

He returned to his task ahead and gritted his teeth.
Sophie.
Would he find her in time? The thought of her hurt made him want to commit murder.

****

Hope was reliving her brief moment in Daniel’s firm embrace. She quickly banished the thought when Charity walked into the room. She carried a canvas, bringing with her the familiar smell of oil paint.

“His Grace didn’t stay long.”

“He believes Sophie has eloped and has gone after her.”

“If she wants to marry, she’s old enough, surely?”

“Daniel doesn’t know who’s behind it. The man could be a fortune hunter. He could be dangerous. Anything might happen. I should have told him sooner about Sophie’s interest in Mr. Braithwaite.”

“But you couldn’t. You were sworn to secrecy.”

“It
was
awkward.” She sighed. “I regret not at least trying to explain more to her about the way of things in London. Strangely, living in York, she has been sheltered more than we have in some ways.”

“Would the duke force Sophie to marry a man of his choice?”

“I can’t believe that of him.”

Daniel wasn’t a harsh man, but even her father could be strict when he considered his actions to be justified by society’s decrees. Hope sat thoughtfully fidgeting with the fringed sash of her apple green morning dress. Would it have mattered what she’d said to Sophie? Sophie was a force of nature. She’d swept into their lives and hadn’t been much affected by the
ton
. Rather, it had been the other way around.

Charity replaced one of her paintings on the wall with her latest work.

“I like that one,” Hope said, rising to study it.

It was of their barn, the timbers richly defined against a dark green woodland backdrop, with their cat, Sable, in the foreground, preening in the sun. Even with her mind elsewhere, Hope was suddenly aware of just how talented her sister was.

When she heard the clatter of the barouche in the driveway, she hurried to the window to watch her parents arrive.

Her mother walked into the parlor while her father stalked down the corridor to his study. They heard the door slam.

“I have nothing new to tell you. I was aware that Lady Sophie lacked manners, but to go off like this….”

Tears flooded Hope’s eyes and anxiety gripped her chest as she explained about Daniel’s visit. “What if something terrible has happened to Sophie?”

Her mother put an arm around her. “Don’t be too distressed, my love. His Grace will locate her. I believe he is correct in assuming she has run away with some fellow. That young woman was determined to have her way. I knew it from the outset.”

Chapter Seventeen

Driving toward London on the turnpike road, Daniel found success at the first respectable inn he pulled into. The innkeeper informed him that a lady answering Sophie’s description had stayed the night with her brother, a tall, red-haired gentleman.

“Well dressed he was and he tipped very generously, too.” The proprietor looked expectant.

“As shall I, good fellow.”

He consulted his register. “A Mr. Branson and Miss Branson. They took separate chambers and departed after an early breakfast.”

“What sort of vehicle did they travel in?”

“The gentleman drove a cabriolet, Your Grace.”

Daniel nodded. They’d travel slowly in a small carriage with just one horse. He would catch them.

After tipping the innkeeper in a similar manner to the mysterious Mr. Braithwaite, Daniel took to the road. He held on to the knowledge that this man cared for Sophie’s reputation, at least as far as appearances were concerned.

Daniel overtook a laden stagecoach and a slow, lumbering cart and increased his pace. A stage could travel from Brighton to London in four hours. But Mr. Braithwaite appeared to be in no hurry. They would have to rest the horse at some stage, and it was doubtful they’d make London by nightfall.

He’d found no sign of them during the day. As night approached with a heavy bank of clouds blocking any chance of moonlight, he tamped down his impatience and pulled into the yard of a coaching inn. Daniel was about to question the proprietor when he heard a familiar tinkling laugh. He spun around. Sophie!

He strode into the coffee room, and the tight hold he’d had on himself evaporated. She sat smiling at a stranger, a coffee cup in her hand, as if it was a perfectly normal occurrence. Hiding his profound relief, he approached their table. “Mr. Branson? Or is it Braithwaite?”

Sophie flinched at the tone of his voice. “Daniel!”

The man leapt to his feet. He bowed. “Braithwaite, Your Grace.”

“I hoped you were back in England, Daniel, I—” Sophie began.

Daniel silenced her with a quelling look and directed his question at the man standing before him. “You have acted like a scoundrel, sir.”

Braithwaite pointed to the spare chair. “Please be seated, Your Grace. I cannot sit until you do, and it’s been a long, tiring day.”

Surprised at the man’s mild tone, Daniel shelved his intention to demand the fellow come outside, where the matter would be swiftly sorted with his fists. He pulled out a chair and studied Sophie’s abductor. Braithwaite was older than he’d expected, perhaps closer to forty and soberly dressed.

“Daniel, Mr. Braithwaite is driving me home to London, where he planned to consult you.”

“Then why not return home in the proper manner, Sophie, having given your gracious hosts an idea of your direction?”

Sophie reddened. “I didn’t think it fair to involve Hope—”

“So you left her confused and worried.”

“If I might be allowed to explain, Your Grace.” Braithwaite calmly stroked a coppery sideburn. “Lady Sophie has a somewhat impetuous nature, of which I’m sure you’re aware.” He paused to give her a fond smile. “I have tried to convince her that I’m not a suitable husband for a duke’s daughter. But she won’t hear of it. She felt the only way we could marry would be to go to Gretna Green. I was never of the same notion; I prefer to act honorably. But you were away in France, Your Grace, and Sophie was threatening to run away and come to live with me in my modest digs in Town. In your absence, I felt it behooved me to keep her safe, so I arranged to meet her in Tunbridge Wells.”

Daniel glanced at Sophie, who was remarkably quiet. She gazed at Braithwaite, her expression a mixture of frustration and affection.

“Once I had her in my safekeeping,” Braithwaite continued, “I proceeded to escort her to your home in London, where I hoped to find you. I will, of course, abide by any decision you make. I pray you will think on it first, however, and not judge me too harshly. I love your half-sister, you see. I believe I can be a good husband to Sophie and wish very much to make her my wife.”

Sophie’s eyes pleaded with him. “We plan to travel abroad, Daniel, to Egypt.”

“I have no illusions about the difference in our class,” Braithwaite said. “Sophie deserves so much more than I can offer her. But I’m not without means. We are not aristocrats, it’s true, but we are not poor.”

“Horace has studied at Oxford and traveled the world,” Sophie said with a proud, proprietorial smile.

“I’d like to learn more about that,” Daniel said.

Braithwaite immediately launched into a list of his credentials. They were impressive, but it was Sophie’s smile, which finally made up Daniel’s mind. He felt instinctively that she would be safe with this man. Safer perhaps, than with him at this moment. He beckoned to a male servant who hovered uncertainly in the room. “Tell the ostler to stable my horses for the night. We shall require a private parlor and three bedchambers. And bring me a bottle of your best wine.”

He sat back and folded his arms. He’d handled Sophie badly. He’d been too intent on arranging her life to suit him. He should have given her his full attention and not let her fob him off when he’d tried to learn what was in her heart. “I can’t approve of the way you’ve gone about this, sir, but you have my sympathy. I’ve come to know my half-sister well.”

Sophie laughed. She leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. “Daniel, Hope is not yet engaged to Winslow. Should he ask her to marry him, her father will insist that she accept him, and I know she doesn’t wish it.”

Pained, his pulse beat hard in his throat. “Did she mention why she’s averse to Winslow’s suit?” He had to know more, although much good it would do him. He was like a man in a desert, desperate for water, when it came to news of Hope.

“She doesn’t love him. But in a sennight, she and her family are to attend a house party at the duke’s estate.”

Frustrated, he downed the last of his wine in a gulp. He placed the glass on the table. If he left early in the morning, he would reach Town by midday.

“You are old enough to know your own mind, Sophie. I hope in the future you will not regret your decision.” He smiled. “Somehow, I doubt you will.” He visualized her wandering with her husband amongst the pyramids in Egypt, collecting artifacts for the museum. It seemed a perfect role in life for her. Her archeologist was obviously a well-educated fellow with a sound, rational mind.

“Will you give me away, Daniel?”

“I’d be honored. And I’ll assist with a special license and attend your wedding. But there won’t be time for me to offer all the trappings a woman wants for her trousseau.”