The Heart Denied (24 page)

His visit to the kitchen at the crack of dawn garnered fresh-baked scones, potatoes fried in bacon fat, and a fresh pitcher of milk. After bussing a flustered Bridey on the cheek, he headed across the great hall, then heard the officious tones of Dame Carswell hail him from her office under the stairs. He waited as she approached, her mouth pinched in obvious disapproval.

"What is it, Carswell?"

She curtsied. Only then did Thorne see the odd glow in her eyes, a glow one could only call triumphant.

"I have just spoken with Markham and thought you should be informed, M'lord. Elaine Combs has disappeared."

"Where the deuce could she have gone?" Thorne heard his voice--taut, demanding, the second time he'd asked in less than a minute. Carswell's expression had turned bland, but he had little doubt she was enjoying herself.

"As I said, I've no notion, M'lord."

He tried to look nonchalant. "References, then. Surely she had them. Who were they? Where is her family?"

"There was but one reference, M'lord, that of her last employer, in Sturbridge. Combs is an orphan. She has no known living relative."

"Friends, then?" Thorne tried to ignore a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Perhaps she went to visit someone who's sick, or dying."

"I doubt it, M'lord. There has been no courier, and Combs retired quite as usual for the night. However, this morn she is nowhere to be found, and what few possessions she had are missing."

Thorne nodded, his mind racing. "We would be remiss if we made no effort to locate her, particularly considering her delicate condition."

The housekeeper said nothing.

"I'd planned to make rounds today," he said, more to himself than her, and ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "Very well, I'll make inquiries along the way. Tell Pennington he'll have to catch up, that since I was up early I saw no point in wasting time." He forced a chuckle. "Tell him to keep an eye peeled for wandering maids."

"Aye, M'lord." Carswell's expression told Thorne she wasn't the least bit fooled by his casual tone.

He hurried to the stables to inform Hobbs of Combs' disappearance. "You will help me search for her," Thorne added flatly. "Father of her child or not, you must realize the difficulty she might encounter away from home and on her own."

Surprisingly, the stable master looked uneasy. "Regarding last night, M'lord..."

Ah, you first look after your own ass!
"I've no interest in your peccadilloes, Hobbs."

"Please, M'lord, let me say this. The girl came to
me
, you see. I was quite shocked to find her here."

"No doubt she overpowered you, rendering you helpless to resist," Thorne said dryly. "But why defend yourself to me?"

"If I had known that Lady Neville would come seeking the girl, I would never...what I mean to say is I'm sorry to cause her ladyship such embarrassment. Perhaps you'll tell her so for me."

"Surely you'll have the opportunity to tell her so yourself, Hobbs, since she's in these stables as much as she is anywhere. In the meantime, I expect a sincere effort in this search. And should you find Combs, you had best treat her with the gentleness due a woman in her condition...because if you think to take revenge on her for having 'slandered' you, you might as well put yourself in the sights of my flintlock here and now."

* * *

Radleigh listened in apparent disbelief as his daughter recounted the events of the past night, his face flushing with indignation as she told him of Lord Whittingham's connection to Caroline.

"So, Father, you may remain here as our guest as long as it suits you, or you may go as you please. No doubt Thorne will lend you a coach and team."

Gwynneth sailed past her speechless sire and slammed the door behind her. She strode up the long gallery and stomped up the stairs to the servants' quarters, where she encountered a slug-a-bed parlor maid on her way downstairs.

"Milady," the woman gasped in obvious alarm, then curtsied. "Might I fetch someone for you?"

"You might indeed," Gwynneth said, lifting her head to look down her nose at the taller woman. "The Ashby girl was sent up here by her mistress to finish the night. Tell her to come at once to my day room." Gwynneth's eyes narrowed. "Then report to Dame Carswell. I would have her know of your tardiness."

"Aye, Milady."

In the day room, Gwynneth watched the clock while she paced the floor and, by the time Ashby arrived, was several degrees nearer her boiling point. "Shut the door and sit down," she snapped.

The maid did so hastily, hands fidgeting in her lap.

"Now," Gwynneth began. "You will tell me how you came to be in the stable master's bed last night. Spare me no detail, however sordid. The truth only. Time is of no matter, we shall sit here all the day long if need be."

Ashby made a gulping sound, then said faintly, "Aye, Milady."

"Speak up, there will be no cowering. Did Hobbs in any way suggest your visit, or otherwise lead you to feel you would be welcome in his quarters?"

"No, Milady."

"So, you played trollop on the sly! Were you even acquainted with him beforehand?" Gwynneth leaned forward like a cat eyeing her next meal.

"Aye, Milady. Toby--er, Master Hobbs calls upon my mistress in London now and again."

Gwynneth nearly dropped her jaw. "He...he calls upon Mistress Sutherland?"

"Aye, Milady. He comes to the house by the back door, and Marsh shows him up to the drawing room to see the mistress."

"I see." Gwynneth mentally filed the maid's stunning news away for later consideration. "And did Master Hobbs speak to you earlier yesterday? Perhaps wave at you from the stable yard?"

"No, Milady. I only wandered outdoors last eve' to see the horses-"

"The truth
,
you little witch! I said I wanted
the truth
!"

Ashby paled. "Aye, Milady, begging your pardon, I wanted to see Toby--I mean to say, Master Hobbs--but he was surprised," she admitted lamely.

Gwynneth sat stiffly back in her chair. "I thought as much. What happened then?"

"I told him I should like to see the horses, Milady."

"And then?"

"Well, he showed me the horses..."

"And?"

"And then he...he sort of sniffed me, like...you know, like-"

"Like a cur sniffs a bitch in heat?" Gwynneth offered, fury underlying her bright smile. "Aye, I've seen the ritual amongst the hounds here. Do go on."

Ashby faltered. "No, Milady, I meant he was smelling my hair, and my neck...that tickled a bit, so it made me breathe faster. And then he asked me how old I am. His voice sounded different, rough-like, and it gave me a funny chill. Seventeen, I told him."

"What then?" Gwynneth prodded in a brittle voice.

"I looked at his lips, and I..."

"Say it."

"I wondered how it'd be to kiss him."

"No doubt you'd wondered for some time." Gwynneth watched the girl with burning eyes.

"Aye." Ashby ducked her head. "But then a funny thing happened. His eyes got all hard and stared at me strange, like he'd just thought of something..."

"And what do you suppose that something was?"

"Well, I didn't know, Milady, not then. We kept staring at each other, and then he leaned over and-"

"Yes?"

"He kissed me, Milady." Ashby's face pinkened again, this time with a dreamy expression. "He kissed me in a lovely way, just as I thought he might...but then he started kissing me harder. I've been kissed before, my lady-" Ashby shook her head, her sultry eyes rounding. "But not like this, not ever! It made me breathless, and gave me such a feeling in the pit of my stomach! And all at once, he picked me up in his arms and
carried
me--still kissing me, mind you!" Fanning herself with one hand, she blotted her forehead on her sleeve, missing Gwynneth's wince.

I can bear no more of this.
Gwynneth nearly spoke the words aloud. "So he took you into his bed," she said with outward coolness. "I assume the two of you then fornicated?"

"We...we did what, Milady?"

"
Fornicated
, young woman. Have you never heard the word?"

"No, Milady." Ashby frowned in obvious consternation. "But it sounds...bad."

"'Tis
wicked
!" Gwynneth shot up from her chair as Ashby shrank back in her own. "A
mortal sin
! And you committed it...
the sin of fornication
! Gwynneth's skirts whipped outward as she came around the desk. "What is worse," she hissed, bending over the cringing maid, "is that you caused
Hobbs
to sin! You tempted him, then took your pleasure-"

"And gave him his!" Ashby whined in protest.

Gwynneth raised a trembling hand high in the air. "Aye, and for that
offense you shall burn in
hell
at the end of your worthless life
,
you little whore!"

Down came the hand, delivering a stinging slap to the maid's left cheek. Tears filled Ashby's wide eyes, her mouth trembling as she visibly steeled herself for a vicious backhanded blow to her right cheek.

It came with a loud crack.

"Get your despicable form out of my sight, whore," Gwynneth snarled through her teeth. "Keep away from me while you are in my house. And if you value that pretty skin, you'll stay away from my stableman as well, or so help me, I shall
flay you alive
! Now go! And wash your face before you attend your mistress. Not a word to her of our meeting, or I will have you beaten straightaway!"

Ashby fled as best one could on limbs stiff with terror, not daring to stop and close the door behind her.

Gwynneth heaved it shut and leaned back against it, fingernails digging into her palms, eyes darting wildly about the room until they lit upon the silver filigree-framed miniature of the former Lady Neville. How serene she looked. A woman content with living out her short life as her husband's partner and lover, bearing his child, and overseeing his household.

"Hurrah for you!"
Gwynneth whispered furiously. "Perhaps you were more to your husband than a piece of property and a breeding mare!" Face contorting, she ran to pick up the miniature, then dashed it to the floor.

"Milady?"

"What is it?" Gwynneth shrilled, turning a livid stare on Dame Carswell. "How dare you open my door without admittance!"

"Begging your pardon, Milady." The housekeeper curtsied humbly, looking straight at Gwynneth instead of the shattered glass on the floor. "I knocked, but you did not answer, and I knew you'd want to be informed."

"Informed of what?"

"Combs's disappearance, Milady."

"What? When...?"

"Sometime during the night, Milady."

Gwynneth blinked rapidly. "Indeed. And no one knows where she has gone?"

"No, Milady."

"Well then, good riddance, I say."

"Aye, Milady." A sly look surfaced in the housekeeper's eyes. "But I fear the news was not so well taken by his lordship."

"No," Gwynneth said tersely, "it wouldn't be. My husband is uncommonly concerned for common people. How he came by such an odd fault, I cannot imagine."

Dame Carswell's lip curled slightly. "His father had the same weakness, Milady."

"I suppose he has ordered a search?"

"Aye, Milady."

"In which he's taking part, no doubt."

"Of which he is the leader," the housekeeper countered, then snapped her mouth shut.

Gwynneth smiled thinly. "I see that you and I are of a mind in this matter, Dame Carswell. Well, God willing, the search shall prove futile."

"Amen, Milady."

* * *

"Yes," Caroline said matter-of-factly. "Mister Hobbs calls to see Horace. They'd some sort of business between them, though my husband never confided its nature to me."

"But she expressly said that Hobbs called upon
you
.
" Sulking, Gwynneth pushed food around her plate with a fork.

Caroline blotted her lips with a napkin. "He did insist upon seeing me in Horace's absence. He fancied I'd my husband's confidence in matters of trade."

"But you never said a word!"

Caroline sighed. "I rather disliked the man, but I thought it impolite to say. Hence, I said nothing. He doesn't seem to recognize me, either."

Gwynneth eyed her guest dubiously, her thoughts turning again to Hobbs' escapade last evening. Her fists tightened. He would regret his betrayal. She would see to it personally.

* * *

Radleigh waylaid Thorne in the great hall. "My daughter says you'll provide me with a coach, since I've lost my means of transport." He shook his head sadly. "Bad business, that. She told me the upshot of it. Never did I dream-"

"What's your destination?" Thorne cut in, in no mood for dithering after a five-hour search for Elaine Combs.

"Why, I want to return to my house in Covent Gar-"

"I'll be more than glad to lend you a coach, but only to Radleigh Hall."

Radleigh eyed him in silence, then said gruffly, "I imagine his lordship's purse was somewhat fatter when he left."

Thorne barely nodded.

"Order the coach then, with my thanks. I shall reimburse you in full, I promise. With interest."