Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (51 page)

The viscounts had spoken to the local magistrates, making arrangements for Woodstone’s men to be gaoled until governmental agents could assume custody. When Lord Worthing had tapped on her door at eight of the clock, Lucinda had had but three hours sleep; however, she welcomed the viscount’s willingness to treat her as a capable woman.

“Lord Lexford and I will set a course for Dove Dale, but I wished you to know the local magistrate will call upon you this afternoon to hear your statement. I have led Mr. Ramsey to believe your abduction was a ruse to draw Blakehell’s household from the manor.”

Lucinda nodded her understanding. “You have spoken the truth: Lady Hellsman was always the object.”

Worthing shook off her statement. “I suspect Sir Carter’s enemies recognized the baronet’s allegiance to you.”

In spite of the worry gnawing at her composure, Lucinda said, “You shall assure Sir Carter first of my deepest gratitude for his quick thinking in saving my life and, secondly, for his devotion to my and Simon’s plight.”

Lord Worthing frowned deeply. “I would gladly deliver a more private message to the baronet if you wish to write one.”

She wrestled with the hope, which flared in her veins. Would Sir Carter welcome an overture from her? Or would he see her as an obligation? Lucinda could not bear to claim him in duty only. The anxiety in her chest tightened. “It is best I speak only of my gratitude,” she said blandly.

“As you wish, Ma’am.” The viscount bowed to exit. Lucinda wished to call him back, but she loved Carter Lowery too well to saddle him with the widow of an art thief–one who had brought shame to his country and his uniform. She had made her choice. She and Simon would leave for Lancashire soon. She glanced over her shoulder to where the child slept heavily. Curled into a tight ball, he hugged a carved horse. When she had asked him of the gift, the boy had admitted Captain Warren had sent it for Simon’s third birthday. Although she despised the captain’s betrayal, Lucinda merited her late husband’s gesture of love.

Lucinda joined Lady Blakehell in the morning room for a late mid-day meal. “Good afternoon,” she said as she entered the room. “I hope your presence at table indicates Baron Blakehell is recovering nicely.”

The baroness smiled that secret smile of women secure in their worlds. “The baron is snapping at everyone,” she said with a satisfied smirk. “Poor Mr. Selwyn received an earful when he announced Niall must remain in bed for a week. By the by, the surgeon sang your praises. He has instructed Mr. Everett, the baron’s man, on how to change the wound regularly. Now, if Mr. Selwyn would simply provide Niall a large dose of laudanum, the household could rest easier.”

Lucinda sat to the lady’s left. “It is my experience men are poor patients. How they respond is a matter of pride.”

“So, true,” the baroness said sagely. “Heaven forbid it were the male domain to deliver forth children.”

Lucinda blushed with the intimate conversation. “I would imagine you correct, Baroness.”

“Oh, I apologize. I had forgotten you have no experience with child bearing. As a married woman I assumed you knew of such things.”

Lucinda’s cheeks reddened. “I have witnessed childbirth,” she confessed. To lighten the situation, she said, “I would think the world less populated if men were responsible for procreation.”

The baroness spread jam on her toast. “We women are the more powerful sex. We simply allow our men the illusion of dominance.”

Lucinda chuckled, “Obviously, we cannot permit males the secret of our manipulations.” Although she knew nothing of the ways of strong-willed women, Lucinda enjoyed the camaraderie.

Mr. Malcolm entered to extend a silver salver. “The recent post, Ma’am.”

The baroness accepted the three missives. “Thank you, Mr. Malcolm.” She thumbed through the message. “Thank Heavens! This one is from Lawrence.” She used her knife to break the wax. Lucinda looked on with impatience as the baroness retrieved a pair of spectacles in order to read Lawrence Lowery’s message. “They have found her!” she said on a rush of air. “Lawrence says Arabella is not injured, but he means to stay another day in Dove Dale. Lady Hellsman is exhausted and is shocked by the turn of events.”

Lucinda could not hide her real interest. “And what of Sir Carter?”

The baroness scanned the two-page letter. “Lawrence writes both the marquis and Carter are unharmed, with nothing more than bruised knuckles and sore jaws. Carter will remain in Dove Dale until Mr. Pennington arrives to settle the investigation.” She frowned deeply. “Carter killed Lord Ransing to prevent the viscount from harming Law and Arabella.” The baroness pressed the letter to her heart. “I certainly never wanted such a life for any of my children, but especially for Carter. We Lowerys sometimes forget how seriously Carter takes his role in this family. I would pray for my youngest finally to know peace. To laugh as he once did. To permit others into his life.” Lady Blakehell sighed heavily. “A mother never stops worrying for her children.” She refolded the letter. “I should share Lawrence’s news with the baron. He was quite distraught he could not protect Arabella and Lawrence.”

The baroness’s unrepentant response surprised Lucinda. She did not wish to offend, but she had witnessed Sir Carter’s struggle with his father, and she
meant to caution the baroness. “Did not Baron Blakehell have a care for Sir Carter’s fate?”

The baroness’s eyebrow rose sharply. “You speak eloquently on my youngest son’s behalf.”

Lucinda knew she should eat her words, but she could not permit the moment to pass. If the baroness truly “dominated” her husband, it would be Baroness Blakehell who would change Sir Carter’s perceptions. “I mean no offense, Ma’am,” she began softly. “But Sir Carter silently suffers the mark of not knowing his father’s love. As such, I do not believe Sir Carter will ever achieve the happiness you desire in his name. Anyone with an idea for detail can easily observe how your youngest son strives for the baron’s attention.”

Lady Blakehell appeared irate. “You have no right to criticize my husband. You have no knowledge of how the baron feels about his children.”

Appreciative of the baroness’s declarations, Lucinda said, “I have no desire to place my opinions against your own. I can only speak to what I have observed. Please accept my apology.” The baroness’s eyes filled with tears. It was hard for Lucinda to maintain her indignation in the face of such agony. “Please think on what I have shared. I only want what is best for the baronet.”

Lady Blakehell dashed the lone tear from her cheek. “I should ferry Law’s message to the baron. Enjoy your meal, Mrs. Warren.” With that, the baroness disappeared.

Pain cut Lucinda deeply; she prayed she had not widened the wedge between her and Sir Carter’s parents. “It is not as if you will ever be a part of his family,” she chastised under her breath. Feeling awkward and sad, Lucinda stood to return to her quarters. She would avoid the Lowerys until it was time for her departure. Sir Carter’s family might tolerate her in their lives, but they would never accept her as the baronet’s future mate.

As she stepped away from the table, her eyes fell upon the two remaining posts. One was addressed to “Mr. Patrick.” Her heart slammed against her chest wall. Although the letter held Sir Carter’s assumed name, Lucinda knew the contents concerned her family. Surreptitiously, she slipped the letter into her pocket. Lucinda would share the letter with Lord Charleton. The earl was her family now. Her uncle would settle Simon’s future. She was no longer Sir Carter Lowery’s problem.

Carter looked up in relief when Worthing and Lexford rode into the entrance of Ransing’s small manor, which was not much larger than a hunting lodge. Having thoroughly inspected the place, Carter suspected the late viscount had used it for trysts and gaming nights. He and Godown met the viscounts before the main steps. “How is my father?” Carter ignored the customary greetings.

“Mr. Selwyn has treated the baron’s wound and expects a full recovery,” Worthing explained as he dismounted. “Mrs. Warren’s attention to detail saved the day; Mr. Selwyn verified the dangers of returning the baron to Blake’s Run with the bullet fragment still in his shoulder. The lady demonstrated remarkable aplomb.”

Carter held no doubt Mrs. Warren would excel at all she attempted. “And the lady? And Mr. Beauchamp?”

“I spoke to Mrs. Warren before we departed. The lady appeared pale, but strong of limb. She sends her gratitude for your involvement in her rescue.” Carter could not hide the frown crossing his brow. He did not want the lady’s gratitude; he desired her love. Worthing’s mouth announced his disapproval, but his former leader spoke no more of Mrs. Warren. “The steward’s leg will know several months to heal.”

Carter nodded his understanding. “When did you leave Blake’s Run?” Despite his disappointment at not receiving a personal message from Mrs. Warren, Carter asked, “When will Charleton set a course for Lancashire?”

Lexford said as he tied off his horse’s reins. “We departed at eight. No one else was awake. It was a long night. The magistrate has taken Woodstone’s accomplices into custody. As to Lord Charleton, the earl said he would not depart until his niece was capable of traveling.” Carter’s expression sobered. Worthing had just professed Mrs. Warren’s stable health. She would likely leave Blake’s Run before he could return. The thought brought another round of frustration.

Schooling his expression, Carter assumed a businesslike slant to his shoulders. “We have captured several of Lord Ransing’s men. I suspect many did not know of their master’s tendency for larceny.”

“And the viscount?” Worthing asked cautiously.

“Dead,” Godown responded. “Lady Hellsman wounded him in the leg before Lowery thwarted the viscount’s attempt to end Hellsman’s and Lady Arabella’s lives. I was a witness. Sir Carter possessed no other option.”

Carter knew the marquis had just perjured himself. Godown was in the house with the other prisoners when Carter confronted Ransing, but his friend meant to protect Carter from censure. He had killed a peer of the aristocracy, a feat, which could be punishable by law. That particular fact had played into Carter’s decision to keep Law from delivering the fatal blow to the viscount. Carter prayed his governmental position would protect him. Otherwise, he would be living on the Continent in the near future. “There are several paintings in the attic, which I suspect are part of those removed from Spain.”

Worthing said, “We should decide what we mean to share with Pennington and how we might spin this tale upon its head to protect your reputation and that of your family, as well as Lord Charleton’s niece.”

Carter led the way into the house. It was comforting to know these powerful men meant to keep him safe. He was blessed to have their allegiance. Not many men could claim such devotion.

Lucinda tapped upon her uncle’s door and was pleased he was awake and enjoying a tray in his room. “Come in, my Dear,” he called when Mr. Priest opened the door to her. “I was just going to come looking for you. How is the boy?”

“Simon slept soundly. I woke him earlier and returned him to the nursery. I did not want Simon to sleep the day away and then be awake all night.”