Ridiculous (46 page)

* * *

Shoffer returned from seeing his grandmother off in her carriage, scowling with such ferocity that people leapt out of his path. He climbed back into the dining box without acknowledging anyone present. Beth smiled at him when he resumed his place at the other end of the table and he managed a weak turning of his lips in return.

“Did you see both of them off?” inquired North.

“Both of them,” repeated Shoffer. “What do you mean?”

“Attelweir. He arrived with Her Grace, remember? Did he catch up with you in time to be taken up in her carriage?”

Shoffer stared at his plate as if it contained the answer to all life’s questions. “No. I did not see him.”

North glanced about at the milling crowd, but could not spot the duc. “I hope the ladies will forgive me, but I think we should not stay for the dancing and fireworks.”

Shoffer nodded.

“I agree with North. I apologize to you all for the disruption, but it is better so. We should escort the ladies home.”

“Surely, you are being over cautious, Timothy,” said Beth. “We can safely stay until the fireworks are over. Please.”

“Forgive me, dear Beth. I shall arrange for you to come another night to view the fireworks, but tonight, I think it would be best to leave before the crowd. Once the fireworks are over, the pathways hereabouts will be over-full with people and it will be near impossible to locate our carriages.”

It looked for a moment that Beth would continue to protest, but Felicity rose, and recruiting Lady Edith with a glance, took the girl in hand.

“I agree with His Grace. The crowd hereabouts has a rough and disgusted look about it. We best leave.”

Without discussing the matter, Shoffer and North took the lead with the ladies trailing behind them. Simpson and his uncle undertook to follow behind to make sure no one was separated by the crowd. By the time they had battled their way through the massed revelers, even Beth was willing to admit fatigue and agree to go home, instead of to some other entertainment.

As the ladies were aided into the carriages by the footmen, Shoffer, Millicent, and Simpson took leave of Lord Edgeware, who was planning to take a hackney home.

“Uncle,” said Simpson, “I wish to thank you for coming. I am only sorry that the evening was cut short.”

“Not at all. It was unexpectedly entertaining.”

Millicent scowled at the older man, which intimidated him not at all.

“The girl you are marrying seems a sensible lass,” continued the Earl. “Once the settlements are arranged come and see me and I will give you advice on investing her dowry.”

Millicent bit her tongue to stop herself from protesting that action and resolved to ensure the lawyers protected Mildred’s interests. Simpson gave a neutral grunt, shook his uncle’s hand, and aided him into the hackney. Millicent took leave of Simpson and Shoffer with a nod and climbed up to join the women of her own household. Millicent and Maude had their heads together discussing something or other and Felicity was resting her head on the squabs, her eyes closed. Millicent copied her, unwilling to engage in conversation.

All she wanted to do was pull out the memory of Shoffer declaring his love and relive it over and over.

Shoffer loved her. Wanted to marry her. Joy fought with pain. It was not possible, would never happen, but, oh, the knowledge he loved her that much, would marry her despite the differences in their ranks, their positions in society, she hugged to herself in the dark. Even her fictitious widowhood and position as mistress had not stopped him from declaring his intent before witnesses.

“Millicent,” hissed Mildred, as soon as she was certain their mother slept. “What is this? Who is the Helene His Grace was speaking of? Surely he cannot mean our cousin.”

Millicent winced. “I should have known that you would not let that pass.”

“What is going on?” demanded Maude.

Millicent blushed and leaned closer to her sisters. “I … His Grace and I …”

“What? What?” chorused her sisters.

“He knows that I am female. He calls me ‘Helene’ when we are alone together.”

“How did he find out?” demanded Maude.

Mildred slapped her arm. “Don't be more foolish than necessary. Did you not hear her? Millicent said ‘when we are alone together.’ Alone! Together!”

“Ohhhh. Millicent,” Maude's lips open in a moue of shock. “Well, of course he must marry you.”

Millicent leaned her head back on the squabs and laughed softly.

Her sisters fell silent and they left Millicent to her thoughts for the remainder of the journey. So deep was her preoccupation that she noticed no passage of time until they drew up outside Maricourt Place. Millicent descended first and turned to offer her hand to Felicity.

“Your pardon, sir,” came a voice from the shadows.

Millicent turned even as her footman leapt down from the rear of the carriage and seized the speaker by the collar.

“Stop,” cried the newcomer. “I am no robber. I only wish to speak to Mr. North.”

“Which one?” asked Millicent, even as her heart leapt into her throat. This was it, the moment when she was revealed as a liar, a fraud. With hope, she would have a few moments to warn her sisters and mother, perhaps send them on to Shoffer’s house. He would protect them.

“I am seeking Mr. Anthony North. I am Mr. Johanson, Mr. Perceval North’s lawyer. I have left my card many times to no effect.”

“Oh, dear God preserve us,” cried Felicity and fell into a faint.

Millicent leapt to stop Felicity’s insensible body from falling to the pavement. Mildred seized Felicity by the arm and the footman released his captive to take hold of Felicity’s torso. Merit, summoned by Maude’s cries, bounded down the stairs followed by half the staff. Millicent blessed the confusion that gave her another few moments to think.

How had Perceval discovered her … his … Anthony North’s presence in London? Perhaps he had read the gossip pages of the London papers? How much did he know? Had she broken some unknown rule of the inheritance? What if Perceval wanted to meet with Anthony? Why was the lawyer looking for her and how could she get him to go away without revealing the deception?

Maude and Mildred near fell out of the carriage in their eagerness to be of aid to their mother. Millicent tried, but was unable to get Mildred’s ear to advise her of their late night visitor’s identity. In all the confusion, Mr. Johanson followed them into the house. Millicent was trying to regain command over her household when a familiar voice came from the door.

“North! North! Is Beth here with you?”

All in the hall fell silent and Millicent spun to face Shoffer and Simpson.

“Heavens, no, why would you think so?”

“My carriage left without us,” said Shoffer, his face ashen pale. “I thought perhaps Lady Edith and Beth thought we would travel with you and went on ahead home, but when I got there I found that they had not arrived.”

“Oh, dear God,” cried Felicity, and fainted anew.

“Attelweir,” said Maude, charging across the hall to seize Shoffer’s arm. “But where would he take her? Surely, he does not imagine he could take her to Gretna, not with her chaperone along!”

“I can only pray that Lady Edith stays with her,” said Shoffer. “But we cannot be certain he has headed north. He might hold her somewhere in London. But where?”

“Oh, poor Beth, in the hands of that scoundrel,” cried Maude and burst into tears.

Mildred was nearest and quickest.

“Have some sense,” she said, shaking Maude by the shoulder. “It’s more likely she’s stopped in traffic or she might have directed the coachman to take Lady Edith home first. Do not leap to the worst construction before anything is known for certain.”

Maude sniffled and retreated.

“We should check both possibilities,” said Millicent.

Shoffer nodded. “Simpson, go home and wait. If Beth arrives send a messenger to find me. North, you go to Lady Edith’s home and I shall go to Attelweir’s rooms. If he is planning on leaving the city, it is likely he will stop there first for his belongings.”

He had taken two steps toward the door before Millicent halted him.

“Shoffer, I cannot imagine Attelweir persuading
your
servants to drive him out of the city, particularly if Lady Beth was kicking up a fuss.”

“You are right. Unless, of course, he overpowered them and was driving the carriage himself.”

“The coachman and four footmen, plus the tiger, all overwhelmed by Attelweir?” Millicent shook her head. “If he can do all that, I must begin to treat him with respect.”

“We must be mistaken,” said Simpson. “It would not do to overreact and start a panic. Beth is likely delayed. Or home again. We are all over excited by this evening’s quarrels.”

“I will come home with you to be certain,” said Millicent. “I would not be able to rest not knowing if Lady Beth is safe.”

They hurried from the house. Fortunately, her carriage had not yet been taken back to the mews. It was not until Shoffer swung himself into the waiting carriage that Millicent remembered the lawyer. Perceval’s lawyer. What if the man spoke to her sisters while she was away? She paused on the step, considering whether she should go back, dismiss the man, before leaving.

No, there was no reason to fear. Good manners would have the man leaving the house quite soon after her departure. It was late and the man of the house was gone. Merit would see to it. Felicity was being taken to her room and Mildred was sensible. Even if the man cornered her, she would refuse to speak.

Millicent leapt into the carriage and sat beside Shoffer, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

The carriage lurched into motion throwing Millicent against Shoffer. Simpson, on the facing seat, clung to the wall for balance.

“She is likely home by now,” repeated Simpson.

“Do we even know where Attelweir resides?” asked Millicent. “He is not on my sister’s guest list.”

“Nor mine, though I am certain my grandmother knows,” replied Shoffer.

It was not necessary to dismount from the carriage at Trolenfield House. Forsythe, oil lantern in hand, stood at the top of the steps before an open door. He descended, hope shining on his features, when the carriage pulled up, but when he saw Beth was not with them his face fell.

“Still not here,” whispered Shoffer. “Am I being over concerned?”

“Where your unmarried, beautiful, and wealthy sister is concerned, I think not,” said Millicent, laying her hand lightly on his arm. “I do not wish to encourage you in fearful thoughts yet I cannot help being worried myself. Attelweir is scum. I would not put any crime past him.”

“And he has your grandmother’s approval, publicly stated,” continued Simpson.

Shoffer and Millicent exchanged a glance.

“The dowager…” Shoffer paused. “You are correct, North. Beth would cause Attelweir endless trouble were he to try and take her out of London, but if he were to redirect my carriage to the dowager’s residence, she might go. My servants would not protest the command.”

“Would the dowager protect Beth from Attelweir or would she conspire with him against Beth’s wishes?” Millicent shuddered as the thought chilled her.

“Simpson. Go to Lady Edith’s residence. Find out if Beth is there. Whatever the news, send a message to me. I am going to call on my grandmother.” Shoffer turned and charged down the stairs again. “North, with me!”

Chapter Twenty

The carriage ride to the dowager’s residence was spent in complete silence. Since Simpson was no longer with them, Millicent risked reaching across the wide seat to grasp Shoffer’s hand. He returned the grip with such ferociousness that she knew he was in the clutch of, if not terror, then at least strong fear for his sister’s safety.

When they arrived, Shoffer did not wait for the footmen to open the door and lower the steps, but leapt from the carriage to the ground and raced up the staircase. Millicent, descending slowly, took a moment to glance about.

“Shoffer, your carriage,” cried Millicent, pointing. “It is heading down the street!”

Shoffer glanced toward her and away. He did not knock on the door so much as pound it open.

“Thomas, with me,” cried Millicent and ran down the road after the ducal carriage. Fortunately, since the North family and the Shoffers kept their equipages in the same mews, the coachman recognized Millicent’s footman and obeyed her shouts to stop.

“Come about, my good man,” gasped Millicent. “Go back to the dowager’s residence and wait. We may have need of you soon.”

The coachman sighed and muttered something about horses and the whimsies of the
fancy
, but nodded his understanding.

“Thomas,” said Millicent, grasping her footman’s arm. “You and the others stand ready. We may be leaving at speed.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that Millicent turned and ran back toward the house.

* * *

Inside Shoffer ran down the main hall, up the staircase, and down a corridor toward his grandmother’s favorite sitting room. Winter, summer, made no difference, the dowager received visitors in a room she had decorated in the image of the Queen’s drawing room. He was halfway down the corridor when he heard Beth’s voice raised in anger.

“You may say what you will, Attelweir, I shall not consent!”

“Fetch a special license, Attelweir,” came Lady Philomena’s voice. “We shall have her safely wed before morning.”

Shoffer hit the door like a cannon ball and was in the midst of them. In an instant, he assessed how things stood. Lady Philomena was seated, regal and judgmental, in her throne-like chair. Attelweir was near the door holding his nose, which had been struck when Shoffer burst in, and Beth, brave and darling Beth, with Lady Edith at her side held the center of the room, holding Attelweir at bay with her pistol. She took one look at Shoffer and started to cry.

“Oh, Timothy, I am so glad you are here. I have only one bullet.”

“My dear, in the right circumstances, one is just enough.” To the dowager, Shoffer showed his teeth. “I shall be taking my sister home, now, Your Gracelessness, and if I ever see you again, ever, in any circumstances, I shall shoot you myself.”