Folly's Reward (21 page)

“Alas, he did not tell me.”

Lord Lenwood leaned forward and fixed his black eyes on Prudence. He looked very grave, his winged eyebrows drawn together.

“There’s no doubt that these men wished to capture my brother personally?”

“None at all,” Prudence said. “The man with the eye-patch called him by name. I’m sorry, Lord Lenwood. We thought only Bobby was in danger.”

“Bobby?” Lady Acton fluttered her fan. “Oh, you mean the child, little Lord Dunraven. Why would the boy be in peril?”

Prudence blushed and looked down at her lap. “His grandmother, Lady Dunraven, believes Lord Belham intends Bobby harm. She made me take him into hiding.” She glanced nervously up at Richard. “I’m sorry, Lord Lenwood, since the marquess is your guest, but if Bobby dies, Lord Belham inherits everything.”

“So Harry informed me.” Richard stood up and stretched. “Oh, dear God, why the devil did Harry go to Scotland instead of coming home? And what the hell else was he doing in France?”

Prudence studied the ring of anxious faces. These people were Hal’s family. They loved him. Surely now she owed them the truth?

“He brought a message,” she said. “It was in code.”

Richard spun about. “What?”

“I found it hidden in his jacket.”

“And what did my son do when you showed him this mysterious missive?” Lady Acton sighed and fluttered her fan again. “I begin to think it impossible that I shall ever enjoy a peaceful old age surrounded by my grandchildren, when my sons are so very careless of their safety.”

Prudence swallowed. Harry’s mother might sound flippant, but her fear was obvious.

“I couldn’t show it to him, Lady Acton. He didn’t know who he was, and I had no way of knowing what kind of a person he might really be. I worried that the note might even be treasonous. So I sent it to Admiral Rafter in London.”

“In which case,” Richard said with a wry smile. “He would have given it to a certain lord, who has a gift with codes. And since that gentleman is in this house at this moment, what better than to ask him?”

Helena glanced up at her husband’s face. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“But I do, love.” Richard moved to stand by Helena. He laid a hand tenderly on her shoulder. “It’s time, I believe, to consult Lord Belham about my wayward brother.”

“Then, pray, invite the marquess to join us, Richard.” Lady Acton stood up and her fan snapped closed in her hands. “I am most uncomfortable at the thought of Harry in the hands of ruffians, particularly when Miss Drake tells us that they gave him a severe blow to the head. Harry may be as stubborn as a mule, but I don’t believe that he has an ass’s skull. Thus, distasteful as it may be to involve him, it would seem that we must put Harry’s fate in the hands of Black Belham.”

Prudence dropped her cup, then blushed scarlet as chocolate spread over the carpet.

“Don’t worry,” Helena said warmly. “The carpets at Acton Mead are used to it.”

* * *

The Honorable Henry Acton, captive, touched one hand to his head. The carriage was once again racing north, causing the seats to rock like ships at sea. Sergeant Keen appeared to have given him a neat bandage. There was no question that the man was an old soldier.

Harry leaned back and kicked his feet up on the opposite seat. Apart from a screaming headache and the remaining unpleasant curl of nausea, he seemed to be uninjured. Beneath the pounding hammers in his skull, his thoughts and memories rang clear as a bell.

He tried his best to make sense of them.

“Tell me, sir,” he said idly after a moment. “Why did you seize the child in Oxford?”

“Little Lord Dunraven? Why, the lad ran straight into me, Mr. Acton. I meant him no harm, I assure you. No, you’re the one as I’ve been paid and contracted to trace and bring back. And a merry dance you’ve led me!”

Harry glanced from the window at the passing fields and trees. It was raining again. He laughed.

“I seem to have led everyone a merry dance, including myself. But if we can’t dance and be merry, then life is a short, sorry mess, isn’t it?”

Sergeant Keen looked at his prisoner with undisguised curiosity.

“Now why the devil should a young cove like you be so bitter about life, sir?”

* * *

In the small study at Acton Mead, the fire was dying down. Every possible explanation and idea had been exchanged.

“Then I think,” Lord Belham said at last, “that we must go to Scotland at the earliest opportunity.”

Lady Acton laughed at him over her fan, but a brittle edge marked her voice.

“You are prepared to leave the delights of town to rescue my son, Marquess? I’m so grateful that I believe I shall also journey to Scotland. Someone must act chaperone to Miss Drake, after all.” She turned to Prudence. “You shall come, too, Miss Drake.”

“Why me?” Prudence said. Her heart was beating too hard again.

“You’re the only one here who can recognize Harry’s attacker, my dear. You will escort us, also, Richard?”

“Of course,” Richard replied. “Harry saved my life last winter. I owe him that much, at least.”

His eyes met Helena’s. She smiled at him.

“I cannot leave Bobby,” Prudence said. “And he cannot travel so far again.”

“Bobby can stay with me.” Helena took Prudence’s hand and squeezed it gently. “No harm will come to him here, Miss Drake. I promise you.”

Lord Belham studied her gravely. His expression held something that Prudence couldn’t understand, something which still caused a small curl of uneasiness.

“If you will grace us with your company, Miss Drake, I shall endeavor to convince you while we travel that I am not responsible for Mr. Acton’s abduction, although I would like to talk to him. Neither do I intend harm to the small Lord Dunraven, in spite of anything the dowager countess may have told you.” The marquess held up his signet ring. He smiled, but it held a grim enough edge. “These baleful eagles have haunted me all of my life. It’s the very devil to have such a splendid reputation for wickedness, so in this instance I can only ask you to trust me.”

Prudence hesitated. How could she know whom to trust?

Lady Acton stood up, and her black gaze met Lord Belham’s. Every line of the countess’s elegant figure was rigid, like that of a horse scenting danger and throwing up its head. She did not turn away from the marquess, although her words were directed at Prudence.

“I can guarantee that the child will be safe at Acton Mead, Miss Drake. After all, his wicked guardian will be on the road to Scotland with us, and getting farther from the boy every day. But I cannot be certain of the safety of my son. Surely you would not refuse us your assistance?”

Prudence looked away from her and caught Helena’s reassuring smile again. She closed her eyes for a moment. There were undercurrents in this room she couldn’t possibly understand. Which of them were dangers to Harry?

Bobby had certainly earned a respite from travel and change. Helena would give him all the warmth and love that anyone could wish. And this time, she must put Harry before the child. Whatever the mystery about him, plain Miss Prudence Drake had become part of the puzzle. If Fate would somehow grant her that chance, she would sacrifice anything to be part of the solution.

“If I can be of help, I will gladly come with you, Lady Acton,” Prudence said. “But only because I trust Lady Lenwood with Bobby more than it seems I can trust myself. With me he has only been in discomfort and danger for weeks.”

“Then, for heaven’s sake, let’s call for the carriages! We shall put ourselves in Lord Belham’s hands—since he seems to know more about Harry’s purposes than his own family—and see how far we can trust him.”

Lady Acton gave the marquess a dazzling smile. He did not smile back. Instead he fixed her lovely face with his dark gaze until she turned away. A small flush colored her perfect complexion and she closed her fan with a snap.

* * *

It was a very different journey from the wild flight Prudence had made south with Hal. Two expensive carriages, each emblazoned with a coat of arms; a bevy of outriders arranging their team changes and accommodation as they traveled; the most direct route on the main turnpike north.

Richard rode with the marquess in his great coach with the glaring eagles on the door. Prudence traveled with Lady Acton and tried to avoid Lord Belham.

How could she trust him? He had admitted that Admiral Rafter had sent him Harry’s coded note, and that he knew what it meant. Yet he had refused to share that information with anyone, even Richard, insisting that the contents of the message were Harry’s business alone. Nor did he say where they were going. But he seemed to think it urgent that they travel as fast as possible.

Meanwhile, whenever they were forced to stop for a meal or a change of horses, Richard was kind and solicitous, but he seemed deeply preoccupied. Prudence knew that he was fiercely missing Helena and deeply worried about his brother.

Was he also regretting taking Lord Belham into their confidence?

Lady Acton remained cool and unruffled, always perfectly groomed and collected. In contrast, Prudence was painfully aware of the shabby state of her clothes and the vast social gulf that lay between a governess and a countess.

Yet Harry’s mother did not dwell on their difference in either status or appearance. Instead she made amusing, intelligent, and deceptively random conversation.

On the afternoon of the second day that changed.

“You must have come to know my son quite well, Miss Drake,” Lady Acton said casually as they climbed back into the carriage after lunch at an inn. She settled her skirts on the seat and smiled at Prudence. “No doubt you found him capricious at times.”

“Yes,” Prudence said. “Sometimes.”

“As the second son, Harry has had a great deal to contend with. He has no title, while Richard will become an earl. Harry inherits nothing, except for what I can leave him of my own money, or what his father might choose to give him from the secondary properties. King’s Acton is entailed with the earldom, and Lord Acton’s mother left Acton Mead to Richard, as well. Harry was Richard’s heir until he married, of course, but when Helena has a son, Harry’s future narrows with absolute certainty.”

Prudence swallowed her consternation. Did Lady Acton have a deeper purpose in telling her that Harry was dependent on his father’s good will? This could hardly be idle conversation. In fact, none of Lady Acton’s conversation had seemed idle to Prudence. Since they had left Acton Mead, she had felt that she was being very carefully, though very gently, examined.

“Is Harry envious of Richard, then?”

The black eyes met hers. “Not in the least. Richard always loved him too well. There is a deeper bond between my sons than there is between either of them and their father. But Lord Acton has wished that Harry was the heir since the day he arrived. The earl never troubled to hide his partiality. It wasn’t easy for the boys.”

Prudence thought briefly of her own brothers and sisters. They had never for one moment thought that their parents had a favorite, but of course there hadn’t been any earldom to inherit.

“Lord Acton preferred Harry to Richard? Why?”

Lady Acton adjusted her gloves. “Because Acton feared that Richard was not actually his son.”

Prudence was shocked into silence. She studied the elegant line of the countess’s traveling dress and the enchanting curve of her neck and jaw. She was so beautiful. Twenty-five years ago she must have been stunning.

Lady Felicity Roseleigh before her marriage—one of the famous Roseleigh roses immortalized by Gainsborough, the beautiful daughters of the late Duke of Bydover.

“Lord Acton is very English—fair hair, blue eyes. He thought that his first child should look exactly like him. Instead, Richard’s eyes were jet black, even as a baby. In the earl’s mind it raised questions. And, of course, he already knew that I loved someone else.”

Was Lady Acton admitting to infidelity to her husband?

The countess laughed at Prudence’s dismay.

“You come from a staid Scottish home, don’t you? Don’t let me shock you. Such things are common enough among us, I’m afraid. One of my own sisters has given each of her offspring a different father. Acton was insecure and jealous because he was ten years my senior and ours was an arranged marriage, but I am not a fool. My children are all my husband’s. That became obvious enough as Richard grew older, but Harry remained the favorite. It has been a dreadful burden to him.”

“That the earl favored him?”

“Of course. To a child of Harry’s temperament it was hateful to see his father unfairly punish the brother he loved, or blame only Richard when they both ran into mischief. Lord Acton demanded a level of perfection in Harry that would have broken a less gifted child. It’s an agony to him if he thinks he has let those standards down. Have you ever seen him shoot?”

“Yes, he was testing new pistol designs for Mr. MacEwen at the Manse.”

The countess glanced from the coach window. “It’s almost frightening, isn’t it? Such a passion for accuracy and faultlessness! Harry needs to learn that he can fail, that he’s only human. I’m very glad that he never went to war. The Peninsular Campaign almost destroyed Richard. Helena saved him.”

“Lady Acton, why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I have seen enough of the world and far too much of love, my dear. Harry is more precious to me than I can tell you. I would sacrifice anyone or anything for him. But my sons are hard on women.”

Prudence felt the blush start somewhere at the base of her neck and burn slowly up her cheeks.

The countess gazed steadily at the passing countryside. “When Richard married Helena, I thought he would break her heart, and he very nearly did. I tried to warn her. But, because she loved him, Helena did not give up. I know you love Harry. I am asking you not to fail him—not to give up, whatever he might do.”

“How can you know what I feel?”

Lady Acton’s tones were very soft, but quite serious. “I knew it the minute mentioned his name, when I found you there in Richard’s curricle. You spent how many weeks alone with him? Harry is far too attractive to women. I’ve seen females with far more sophistication than you lose their hearts to him, my dear.”