Love With an Improper Stranger (21 page)

“I am sorry that I added to your distress, Uncle, as you must be tired after your voyage from America.”  Lenore inhaled a calming breath and summoned courage.  “How is Aunt Ellen?”

“She is fine.”  He tugged on his collar.  “She looks forward to seeing you again.”

Reality functioned as a bucket of icy water, and it hit her with sufficient force that she would have collapsed if not for the sofa.  Her ears pealed with a voiceless but nonetheless potent scream, and a dark sense of foreboding traipsed a merry jig down her spine.  If Lenore thought herself frightened before, she now wrestled with abject terror.

“What of cousin James?” Lenore inquired, exercising caution as at her side Lucy tensed.  “And how about the twins?  Your last letter mentioned that Eleanor and Eve did not favor the Rhode Island winters.”

“Your relations are in excellent health.”  The fake smile he extended gave her gooseflesh.  “And they are quite fond of Rhode Island, as I presume you will be, once we venture to America.”

“So we are to live with you?”  Surreptitiously, she removed her diamond betrothal ring from Blake, as she would conceal it in the hem of her dress, at the first opportunity.

“Of course.”  Then he scrutinized Lucy, and his unmasked leer raised the alarm.  “And how old is Miss Lucilla?”

“I am eight and ten, sir.”  Lucy eased closer to Lenore.

“Yes, she is much older than when you last met.”  Lenore managed a brittle smile, as his unveiled inspection bothered her.  “I expect you did not recognize her.”

“Nonsense.  I would know my kin anywhere.”  He scoffed as he stood, retrieved his coat, and strolled to the door.  “But I am going downstairs, and I shall return later.  Make yourselves comfortable, and feel free to finish my lunch, as it was an ample portion.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Uncle.”  Lenore blanched at the suggestion and maintained her seat, until he shut the portal, and the key clinked in the lock.

“Lenore, you know, very well, Uncle Samuel is married to Aunt Alice,” Lucy murmured.

“Yes, I do.”  She trained her ear on the heavy footfalls, which faded in seemingly interminable seconds.

“And we have no cousin James, Eleanor, or Eve.”  Lucy inhaled a shaky breath.  “Because our aunt was pregnant only once, and the babe died in the womb, after Aunt Alice caught a fever.”

“I know that, too.”  The cold hand of fear gripped her throat, and Lenore failed to stifle a whimper.  “And you have never met Uncle Samuel, because you were born after he purchased a tobacco farm in Virginia.”

“Where he has resided, ever since.”  Biting her fist, Lucy sobbed.  “What are we to do?”

At that moment, Lenore leaped from the sofa, charged across the room, grasped the knob, and gave it a solid yank.  To her infinite dismay, she discovered no latch on the inside.  “Oh, Lucy, we are trapped.”

“What about the window?”  Grunting, Lucilla fought with the sash.  “It is too heavy, Lenore.  Help me.”

It took a few heave-hos, but a final shove born of their combined efforts proved successful, and Lenore flung open the shutters.  To their misfortune, they discovered their room featured a rooftop view, as they perched high on the third floor.

“No.”  Lenore filled her lungs with fresh air.  “There is nothing but a chimney and a small stoop for the sweep.”

“We are doomed.”  A teardrop coursed Lucy’s cheek.

“No, as Blake will come for us.”  Lenore hugged her sister and kissed her forehead.  “But until that happy occasion, we must persevere, as we are in trouble.”

#

After enduring twelve hours of pure hell in the wake of his fiancée’s sudden and most unwelcome departure, Blake stood at the long mirror in his temporary accommodations and adjusted his cravat.  Yes, he had promised to wait two days before visiting Lenore, as she probably wanted to renew acquaintances with her uncle, and the Brethren husbands insisted such tack would give her the illusion she was being pursued, but Blake could not do it.  Instead, he intended to
accidentally
interrupt her meeting with Mama and Mr. Hope, as they finalized the textile designs for their new, shared apartment.

A knock at the door snared his attention.

“Come.”  He turned, just as his mother entered.  “Ah, how goes it with the decorations?”

“Blake, I am worried.”  With an expression of concern, Mama wrung her fingers.  “Lenore never showed for our appointment, and she sent no notice of explanation.”

“What time was she due to arrive?”  He glanced at the mantel clock.  “There is often traffic in the lanes, as it is just past noon, society is in residence for the session of Parliament, and the Season commences.”

“That is why I am alarmed.”  She furrowed her brow.  “Lenore should have been here at eleven, she has always been prompt, and she is nothing if not conscientious.”  Mama pressed a hand to her throat.  “My son, I have an awful feeling about this.”

“I am on my way.”  Shrugging into his coat, he strode into the hall and descended the stairs, two at a time.  In the foyer, he glanced at Jennings.  “Have my curricle brought around.”

“At once, Your Grace.”  The butler bowed.

From the hall tree, Blake retrieved his many-caped greatcoat, hat, and gloves.  As he donned his outerwear, he told himself not to panic, yet he rued his decision to remain at home, last night.  Just as fast, he assured himself, in silence, the sisters often became distracted, and Lenore’s absence was nothing but a harmless oversight, for which she would be profoundly remorseful.

And so it was with that assumption he gained the box seat of his rig, flicked the reins, and drove through Grosvenor Square.  At Bond Street, he turned right, navigated the congestion, which slowed him down, and then made a left on Piccadilly, where he gained speed.  At Haymarket, he steered south, until he came to The Strand and veered east.  After traversing Fleet Street, he rounded St. Paul’s Cathedral and entered Cheapside, proper.  As Coleman Street came into view, his gut clenched.

Sitting before his fiancée’s residence loomed a veritable sea of open wagons, and a small army of men transported various items from the home.  In minutes, he parked his equipage and ran down the sidewalk, where a supervisor directed the workers, amid a plethora of personal belongings.

“What is going on here?”  Blake frowned, as he pondered the situation.  “Where are the Tevershams?”

“This estate is being liquidated, at auction, sir.”  The bespectacled purveyor narrowed his stare.  “What concern is it of yours?”

“You should check your tone, before I take offense.”  He handed the agent a card.  “Why were you employed, who hired you, and where are the occupants of the house?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace.”  The broker adjusted his coat and cleared his throat.  “Charles Ludington, at your service.  I was contracted by Lloyd & Childe Solicitors to sell the entire lot and remit the proceeds, excluding my fee, the sum of which is to be used to discharge debts.  Beyond that, I have no knowledge.”

A chill of unease traipsed his spine, and Blake shuddered, as the brisk wind cut through his outerwear.  Just then, a group of movers emerged with a pianoforte, and he recalled a particular conversation with Lenore.  The instrument was a treasured keepsake that belonged to her mother, and never would his lady part with it.  Without doubt, something was terribly wrong.

“Mr. Ludington, I have reason to suspect you have been unwittingly involved in nefarious enterprises, which I am not at liberty to expound upon, at this moment, but I shall report your cooperation to the authorities.”  Blake snatched the pencil and paper from Ludington’s grasp and scribbled a name and a directive.  “Take my card, and meet with my barrister.  Dispose of nothing, as I want everything maintained, in excellent condition, in storage, for which I shall compensate you handsomely.  But I would have you deliver the pianoforte to Elliott House, posthaste.”

“Your Grace may rely on me, as I am at your disposal.”  Ludington dipped his chin.  “But what should I tell Lloyd & Childe, as there will be questions?”

“I will handle them.”  Myriad options swirled in his brain, as he contemplated his strategy.  Formulating a plan of attack, Blake realized he required the assistance of his brothers, as well as a professional, as he knew not where to begin the search for Lenore and Lucilla.  “Just guard the property.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”  Just as Ludington bowed, an employee dropped a small side table.  “You there, be careful, as that is precious cargo.”

Returning to his curricle, Blake paused and envisioned Lenore, glowing with unmasked joy as they danced on Christmas Day.  He revisited the achingly sweet kisses with which she signaled her fledgling desire and the way she all but attacked him, with her unschooled gropes and caresses.  How he cherished her attempts to match his sensuous skills, and he sincerely looked forward to tutoring her in the voluptuous arts.  To think it might never happen just slayed him.

In a flash, he wrenched the reins and set a new course for Mayfair and for hope.  With the courage of conviction and faith in familial ties, he clung to the belief that all was not lost, and he would locate his future wife, yet desperation rode his coattails, as a relentless pursuer, and he urged the matched pair of horses faster.  He had to find Lenore, as he knew not how to persist in a world without her.

Retracing his earlier route, he did not slow as he flew past his home.  Instead, he continued across Grosvenor Square and along Upper Brooke Street, to the distinguished abode marked twenty-four.  As usual, Hamilton, the longtime butler of the Douglas household, rushed down the entrance stairs.

“Your Grace, let me summon the stable master.”  Then he sputtered, as Blake strode straight into the foyer.  “Sir, please, permit me to—”

“Is the Admiral in residence?”  Without hesitation, Blake turned right, as he knew the way.  “It is urgent, and I must speak with him, at once.”

“Admiral Douglas is in his study.”  Hamilton attempted to stay Blake.  “Pray, Your Grace, allow me to announce your arrival, as the Admiral—”

“There is no time.”  In seconds, Blake flung open the door and drew up short.

Sitting in his chair, the venerable leader of the Brethren reclined, with his wife perched in his lap, and the two shared a vast deal more than thorough kiss.  When the couple discovered their impromptu company, Lady Amanda giggled, and Mark scowled.

“Blake, what is the meaning of this interruption?”  Then the admiral sobered.  “What is it?  What is wrong?”

“I beg your pardon, sir.”  Embarrassed, Blake averted his stare.  “I apologize for the intrusion, but I need your counsel, and the circumstances are dire, such that I dare not delay.”  He stared at the polished toes of his boots and braced to give voice to his concerns.  “Admiral, Lenore is missing, along with Lucy, and I fear they have been taken against their will.”

“It is all right, son.  Come in, and make yourself comfortable.”  Mark stood, carrying Amanda with him.  Then he set her on her feet.  After retrieving a bundle of notecards, which bore nothing more than the wind-star crest of the Brethren of the Coast, from a drawer, he handed the seemingly innocuous correspondence to his bride.  “Sweetheart, will you—”

“—Summon the Brethren?” she asked, with a smile, and patted her husband’s cheek.  “Of course, darling.”  Again, she touched her lips to his, ever so briefly.  “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Send for Sir Ross Logan, and tell him it is an emergency.  Have our messenger deliver the correspondence into Logan’s hands.”  The admiral trailed a finger along the curve of her jaw.  “And then I would have you take a nap, and we will finish what we started, later, if you are not too tired.”

“My most adored Admiral, I am never too tired for you.”  Lady Amanda gave Blake her attention, as she neared.  “Dear boy, do not fret.  Whatever has happened, our family will not rest until we get the Tevershams back, safe and sound.”

“Now then, perhaps you will start at the beginning, and spare no detail.  Here.”  Admiral Douglas handed Blake a crystal balloon of brandy.  “This should take the edge off and help you focus.”

“Thank you.”  But Blake did not want to take the edge off, because he preferred to remain on guard, as he would not omit a single fact or supposition.  Precise and thorough, he recited what occurred, including the disturbing facts from the Coleman Street location, as Mark scribbled notes.  “Admiral, be honest with me.  Do you think I have leaped to unsupported conclusions woven from whole cloth?  Am I making something of nothing?”

“No.”  Mark drew a piece of stationary from a stack and sketched another missive.  “With your permission, I should like to request Nigel Lloyd join our deliberations, as I know him quite well, and he is a man of honor, an excellent solicitor, and will not dissemble under polite but firm interrogation.”

In that instant, Dirk, Trevor, and Everett burst into the room.

“We came as soon as we received the dispatch, as we were together, at White’s.”  Dirk collected the cards and returned them to Admiral Douglas.  “What is it?”

“Rather than recount the information in a multitude of recitations as everyone arrives, we will wait for your brothers.”  Mark tugged the bell pull.

Mere seconds later, Hamilton appeared.  “You called, sir?”

“Deliver this immediately.”  The admiral handed the butler an envelope.  “Also, have a tray prepared and conveyed to the private apartment and ensure Mrs. Douglas dines early, as this may take a while.”