Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (20 page)

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ll help you find your sister. All of us will. We won’t rest until we know what happened to her.”

Betsy lifted her chin and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I love you Jack. I always will. But—”

“Shh, sweetheart. Everything will be all right. I promise you it will. And this is a promise to keep.”

Jack took Betsy from their home on King Street, just off Drury Lane, to St. Paul’s Church Yard on Ludgate Street. Her brother Nick was with them.

It had taken him longer to keep his promise to find Phoebe than he’d wanted it to, but he’d found her now and could finally put Betsy’s mind to rest.

“You’re sure you found her?” Betsy asked, as she looked out the carriage window.

They were in familiar surroundings, not far from where Nick, Betsy, and Phoebe had grown up. Not far from where Betsy had lost Phoebe that dreadful night.

“I’m sure.”

Jack knew this would be hard for his wife and he’d tried to prepare her as best he could, but he was glad this would finally be put behind them.

He’d intended to be patient, and wait until he’d found Phoebe before he asked her to marry him again, but she’d surprised him by insisting they marry. She trusted his promise to find Phoebe, and knew he wouldn’t break his word.

He was also certain she knew what the outcome of this day would be. And he vowed to remain at her side to make sure she got through this all right.

“We’re here,” he said when they reached the churchyard.

He stopped the carriage and helped her dismount. Nick followed.

He and Betsy had been married three months now, and this would be the first event in their marriage that wasn’t happy. And yet, it was probably the most memorable event to date.

“Is that where she’s at?” Nick asked, pointing to the small, quiet churchyard.

“Yes. She’s over here.”

Nick walked ahead of them, and Jack placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders and held her close as they walked. He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. He wanted her to know he was there with her.

Jack led Betsy to the stone marker where her sister was buried. Before they reached it, a rotund little man in drab clothing walked toward them. He stopped short when he saw Betsy.

“Oh, my gracious,” he whispered. “Seeing you is like having the young lass back to life. You look exactly like her.”

Betsy stared at the simple marker.

Phoebe Carruthers, beloved wife of Robbie Carruthers

“We were twins,” she said through her tears. “I was older than Phoebe by only minutes.”

Betsy leaned closer to Jack and he nestled her to him. Her body shook with emotion.

“What happened to her?” Nick asked. His voice was thick with loss.

“I don’t know a lot of her story,” the caretaker said. “She didn’t offer much information while she was with us. She was already ill when she arrived on our doorstep. My wife and I took her in and tried to nurse her back to health. But I don’t think she had the will to get better. She said she’d lost everyone, her Robbie and her baby.”

“A baby?”

“Yes. The fever. She was only with us a few weeks and she died, too.”

The caretaker took a step to the right and pointed to the two markers beside hers. One had the words:
Robbie Carruthers, beloved husband of Phoebe Carruthers.

The other had the words:

Betsy Nichole Carruthers, infant daughter of Robbie and Phoebe.

“I think she came here to be near them,” the caretaker said.

Tears flowed down both Betsy’s cheeks, and her brother’s. They shared a look, then Betsy rushed into her brother’s arms. They clung together for several long emotional minutes.

“I’m sorry,” the caretaker said. “I’d have contacted you if I’d have known who to contact. But the lass never gave us a name. Only the one she asked us to put on the marker.”

“It’s all right,” Nick said through his tears. “We know now. Thank you for everything you did for our sister.”

The caretaker nodded then left them.

“Our search is over, Betsy,” Nick said. “We can rest now.”

“Yes,” Betsy agreed through the tears that still streamed down her cheeks. “I always knew this was probably what we’d find, but that doesn’t make it easy.”

Jack reached for Betsy when she stepped out of her brother’s arms and pulled her close. “What happened to your sister wasn’t your fault, Betsy. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. She found someone she loved so much she wanted to make her life with him. Just like you and I have made a life together. Be happy that they found a love that powerful for as long as they did.

Betsy looked up at him through tear-filled eyes and smiled. “I love you, Jack. And I will forever. For
our
forever, however long that may be.”

Hugh Baxter pulled the collar of his heavy coat up around his neck and continued north from London. The weather turned colder each day, the biting rain contained more of a sting when it hit his face. He thought of the woman he’d been hired to find and worried that by the time he reached her she would be dead from the elements.

She’d been on the road for more than a month. Why the hell her cousin hadn’t contacted Mack Wallace, head of the Bedford Street investigators, sooner was a mystery to him—a mystery that left several questions unanswered. The most obvious being why she’d run away the week before her wedding.

He’d almost turned down the assignment when Mack
had approached him. But something made him accept the challenge. The fact that the Metropolitan Police had failed to find her only sweetened the challenge. None of the six Bedford Street investigators ever turned down the opportunity to show up the Metropolitan Police.

Hugh knew where she was headed. The murky trail he’d followed for the last week made that clear. She was on her way to Scotland. Why she’d decided to travel to Scotland now was a question he intended to ask her when he found her. It was winter, for heaven’s sake. No seasoned traveler ventured to Scotland this time of year, let alone a young female on her own.

Another stabbing of anxiety clenched at Hugh’s insides. He couldn’t believe she’d survived this long. For the past month, she’d traveled by stagecoach, by mail coach, and no doubt caught a ride from any local farmer who offered her one. It had even been reported she’d been seen on foot. He’d followed her trail north to Bedford, then Leicester, and as far as Derby. That’s when he’d lost her.

He rubbed his gloved hands together in an attempt to warm them, then buried his face deeper in his upturned collar. Bloody hell but it was cold. He prayed she wasn’t on foot
today. The closer he got to Sheffield, the more he thought he might see snow. It was January, after all.

The woman he was following was Lady Lorna Willis, daughter of the late Earl of Chillbrooke. The fact that Chillbrooke and Hugh’s father had been friends was the
determining factor in his decision to find her.

He hadn’t thought
he would be forced to leave London, however. Or that his search would drag him all the way across England. But here he was, at the Ale and Inn, a stone’s throw from Sheffield in northern England.

Hugh dismounted and handed his horse’s reins to the lad waiting. “Give him an extra ration of oats,” he ordered, tossing the la
d a coin. “And rub him down well.”

The young boy looked at the coin in his hand and smiled. “I’ll rub him down real good, sir. You can count on me.”

Hugh smiled, then turned to the Ale and Inn. It was late and he was tired, but more importantly, he was running out of time. According to her cousin, Lady Lorna was a spoiled, high-strung lady, who’d gotten cold feet a week before her wedding and bolted. After much persuasion, her intended had agreed to forgive her and go ahead with the wedding, if Hugh found her and brought her back. The Marquess of Chillbrooke gave Hugh four weeks to find her and bring her back to London.

Hugh opened the door to the Ale and Inn and stepped inside. The heat from the fire in the main room was welcome, and he took a chair at a table near the hearth.

“What can I get you?” a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile on her face asked.

“Ale, please. And something warm to eat, Mrs….?”

“Grady. Maude Grady. My husband and I own the Ale and Inn.”

“Glad to meet you, Mrs. Grady. My name is Baxter. Hugh Baxter.”

“Welcome to the Ale and Inn,” she said with a welcoming smile. “I’ve got some stew on the stove. I’ll get your ale, then dish you up a bowl.”

“Thank you.”

Hugh removed his hat and gloves, then hung his coat on a hook on the wall while Mrs. Grady went for the ale. When he returned to his chair, his ale was sitting on the scarred table.

“You’re not from these parts, are you?” Mrs. Grady asked.

“No, I’m from London.”

“That’s a fair piece from here.”

“Yes.” Hugh lifted the ale and took a drink. “I’m on an errand for a friend,” he volunteered.

“An errand?”

“Yes. I’ve come to meet my friend’s sister.”

“You were to meet her here?” she asked.

“Actually, I’d hoped to meet her before I reached here. I’m afraid I may have missed her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Miss Lorna Willis.”

Mrs. Grady shook her head. “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

“She has red hair and blue eyes. And she’s traveling alone.”

Mrs. Grady’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s not wise for a young female to travel alone.”

“That’s what I told her brother,” Hugh lied, “but her traveling companion fell ill, and Miss Willis is as stubborn as her brother and refused to turn back.”

There was something in the look on Mrs. Grady’s face that said she might have seen Lorna Willis. Hugh’s heart beat faster. “Have you seen Miss Willis, Mrs. Grady?”

“I might have.”

“When?”

“Not so long ago.”

Hugh steadied his voice. He didn’t want to seem over anxious. “I’d appreciate any help you can give me, Mrs. Grady. I hate to think what dangers my fri
end’s sister may have encountered. Traveling alone isn’t safe for anyone, especially someone so young and inexperienced.”

“That’s what I thought when I first seen her.”

“When was that?” Hugh clenched his fingers around his mug of ale.

“About an hour ago,” Mrs. Grady added.

“Is she still here?”

Mrs. Grady’s eyes narrowed and she studied him for several long seconds. “I won’t let any harm come to the lass, Mr. Baxter. She looked more than a mite weary from her travels. She doesn’t need any more trouble than she’s already suffered.”

“I intend her no harm, ma’am. I only want to see that she’s safely escorted to her family.”

“That had better be your intent. My husband is a fair shot with a rifle and he won’t take kindly to you bothering her.”

“The lady has nothing to fear from me.”

Mrs. Grady studied him for several more long grilling seconds, then gave her head a sharp nod. “There’s a private dining room through that door,” she said, glancing to her left. “I’ll bring your stew in there.”

Hugh looked to where she’d indicated, then slid his chair back and stood. “Thank you, Mrs. Grady. I appreciate your trust.”

“See that I don’t regret being taken in by that handsome face and charming smile of yours, Mr. Baxter. I don’t take kindly to anyone lying to me.”

When Mrs. Grady turned away from him, Hugh grabbed his tankard of ale and made his way to the door the proprietress indicated. He didn’t rush across the wooden floor, but walked slowly to make sure his footsteps didn’t appear threatening. If at all possible, he intended to avoid frightening her.

Hugh stopped at the open doorway and looked inside.

There was no doubt in his mind that the young woman before him was Lady Lorna Willis. Her coloring was exactly as her cousin had said when he’d described her. Hair a vivid shade of red that curled naturally and sprang in every direction possible. She was slightly built, with a full bust and narrow waist.

Although she didn’t appear as unattractive as her cousin had made her out to be, she wasn’t what anyone in society would call a beauty. Her hair wasn’t the disgusting shade of red Lord Chillbrooke had described, but a richer color that might be called auburn.

Hugh couldn’t look into her eyes to see if they were the cold blue her cousin had described; eyes Chillbrooke said could stare straight through you.

She sat hunched in exhaustion, with her hands limp in her lap. Her head drooped as if its weight were too heavy to hold upright and her complexion was as pale as the clouds hanging low in the winter sky.

He couldn’t imagine how she’d done it, but the fragile-looking woman had traveled halfway across England alone in the dead of winter. An emotion Hugh couldn’t explain took hold of him when he thought of what she’d endured and it seemed terribly important to find out why she considered marriage to the well-respected Marquess of Burlingdon so reprehensible that she’d risked her life to avoid being his wife.

Hugh took a deep breath, then stepped into the room.

She didn’t hear his first footstep, nor his second. But her body jerked to alertness when he took the third step toward her.

Her head turned and she stared at him with eyes wide with terror.

“Lady Lorna?”

With a startled cry, she pushed back her chair and bolted to her feet.
Her eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, as if looking for a way to escape. When she realized there was none, she took a step back, as if that would protect her from him.

She didn’t move for several long moments. Neither did she seem to breathe. Finally, she sucked in an unsteady breath, then closed her eyes.

And crumpled to the floor.

Hugh darted toward her. Thankfully, he reached her before her head slammed into the hard floor.

“What did you do to the lass?” Mrs. Grady demanded from over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the lady was as captivated by my handsome face and charming smile as you were, Mrs. Grady. She fainted at the sight of me.”

Hugh scooped Lady Lorna into his arms. “Perhaps you could show us to a room.”

Mrs. Grady rushed out the door.

Hugh followed her up the stairs and down a long hallway. When they reached the last room, she opened the door and rushed to the bed.

“This was my youngest daughter’s room. Put her down here,” she said, turning back the covers on the bed.

Hugh laid her down, then stepped back to let Mrs. Grady take over.

“Did she arrive with any luggage?” he asked.

“She had a bag. I’ll send it up later. I’ve got some night clothes my girls wore that will fit her. At least they’ll be clean and warm.” Mrs. Grady placed her hand on Lady Lorna’s forehead, then shook her head. “She’s burning with fever. It’s no wonder, what with ’er walking in weather like this and going without proper food. I knew the minute she walked in she was nearly dead on her feet.”

“Did she say anything when she arrived?”

Mrs. Grady shook her head. “She just asked for a cup ’o tea, and said she didn’t have coin to pay for it, so offered to work in the kitchen to pay for something to eat.”

A knot tightened in Hugh’s stomach. He wondered how long she’d gone without food. Or proper shelter.

Mrs. Grady rose from Lady Lorna’s side and went to a clothes chest. She pulled out a plain flannel night rail. “I’ll get this on her and tuck her into bed, but I don’t have the time to care for her proper like. If my girls were still here they could help, but the last one got married last spring and Mr. Grady and I have been working the inn by ourselves since.”

“Don’t worry,” Hugh said, casting a glance at the bed. “I’ll take care of the lady.”

“It ain’t proper,” she said with a shake of her head, “but I don’t see any other way.” She walked to the door. “I’ll be right back with some tea and a couple of bowls of that stew you wanted. See if you can’t get something in her. She needs the nourishment.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Grady.”

The woman gave a sharp nod, then left him alone.

Hugh stared at the fragile female on the bed, then walked to the fireplace to light a fire. This isn’t how he’d imagined finding her. Nor was she what he expected when he’d set out to find her.

From the description her cousin had provided, Hugh expected a shrew whose lethal tongue could rip a man to shreds.

What he found was a courageous wisp of a lass who was desperate to escape a horrible future.

Hugh was consumed by doubts and misgivings. His gut instinct told him that Lady Lorna Willis’s cousin’s motives might not be the act of kindness he’d been led to believe they were.