The Reluctant Duchess (17 page)

Truly, Ross needed to stop glaring at them. This was hard enough for Sara without Ross's dark looks thrown their way.

Lord Henderson and Lord Newport were aware of the looks as well, for they kept glancing at Ross and clearing their throats. He was making things extremely awkward.

Sara sat in the drawing room in misery, a lord on either side of her, and tried to come up with something to say. She was failing miserably. As always.

Meanwhile, she had to ignore the fact that Ross was sitting next to Lady Penelope and her mother while they smiled and simpered over him. Just minutes ago she'd been about to kiss Ross again. They'd been deep into a very important conversation, and now they had to act like they hardly knew each other. Could this day get any worse?

“You were beautiful at the Plainfield ball the other night,” Lord Henderson said.

Sara smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He blinked, and she had the impression that he expected her to say more.

“Thank you very much,” she said.

He blinked again and looked at Lord Newport, whom Sara knew better; his family had been friends with hers for years. She and Meredith and Newport had taken dance classes and suffered through dinner parties together. Although Newport had been more fond of Meredith than Sara.

“How is your mother?” Sara asked Newport.

“Good. She's doing well.”

“Very good,” she said. Her face felt like it was going to split in half from smiling so widely.

Elizabeth was conversing with Lady Penelope's mother, leaving Lady Penelope and Ross to converse alone. Sara's heart lurched at the cozy scene on the other side of the room. She barely managed to quell an urge to march over there and plop herself between the two.

Ross raised his head and their gazes locked. Sara wrenched hers away.

“And your family?” Newport asked. “Are they doing well?”

Sara looked at Newport in surprise. Almost immediately, he recognized his faux pas. His face turned red and he stammered. “My apologies…I didn't mean…”

“They are as well as can be expected,” Sara said. “Mother is still residing in Bath, and Father is in Hadley Springs doing what he likes to do most.”

“Yes, well. That is good. Good.” Newport looked away and took a sip of tea from a cup much too small for his hands.

“Will you be attending the Oakley ball?” Henderson asked into the sudden silence.

“I don't believe so.” She knew she was being curt, but what was the reason for letting this go on? She wasn't interested in either of them as potential suitors. For their part, they were interested only in her wealth. Henderson was teetering on the brink of financial ruin. His father had invested far too rashly in schemes that no sound person should invest in. And Newport had inherited an earldom that wasn't the richest, though neither was it destitute, like Henderson's. She wasn't entirely certain why Newport was here, other than they had been friends for years.

A surreptitious glance at Ross showed that he was appearing to listen to something Lady Penelope was saying. She liked to speak with her hands, and they were whipping through the air. Apparently, whatever she was speaking about was dear to her heart.

The butler entered quietly and made straight for Ross, who tipped his head as the butler whispered in his ear. Ross's head jerked around to look at Sara. He stood, and with a quick apology to Penelope, who was in midsentence, her hands suspended in the air, he walked out.

Elizabeth frowned after him. Lady Penelope appeared shocked. Lady Penelope's mother pressed her lips together in disapproval. Henderson said something to Sara, but she couldn't hear what because her heart was suddenly thundering.

She stood so quickly that both men reared back. “Excuse me, my lords. I have…There is something…” Oh, bother. She raced out of the room, lifting her skirts higher than propriety allowed in order to follow Ross.

He was standing in the entryway reading a piece of paper. She stopped short, dropping her skirts.

“What is it?” she asked a bit breathlessly.

He looked at her with such a tortured expression.

“What is it? What's happened? Is it my father?”

Ross shook his head. “Not your father.”

“Then what is it?”

His hands were shaking so badly that the paper rattled. She'd never seen Ross so overcome. Normally, he was the stoic one.

“You're frightening me,” she whispered.

“It's a…” He cleared his throat and looked down. “It's another letter.”

Sara froze. For some reason she had not been expecting this; so many other things had been swirling around in her mind. Maybe part of her had hoped that the letter writer was through with her. Such a naive hope that was. “May I read it?” she asked.

“I'd rather you not.”

“Let me see it.”

“Sara.”

She held out her hand. They stared at each other as some sort of silent battle waged between them. Wits clashing. Stubbornness battling.

With a sigh, Ross handed it over.

I watched God claim her as his. That's what He wanted. God wanted me to make her His because she was too good for anyone here on earth. Too good for me and certainly too good for the duke.

But now you are with the duke. You didn't think I would know that. You thought you could trick me by leaving the comfort of Hadley Springs. But you're here. And I know. And God is calling me again.

Sara staggered back a few paces. Ross jumped to her side to lend a steadying hand, but she waved him away and took a few deep breaths to control the thick fear that was threatening to consume her.

“What do you think it means?” she asked.

“Rossmoyne.” Elizabeth stepped out of the drawing room and closed the door behind her.

“Not now, Mother.”

“This is ridiculous. You all but left Lady Penelope in there alone. And Sara, you abandoned Lord Henderson and Lord Newport. I must insist that you return to the drawing room. I cannot guarantee that they won't talk about this, and then rumor will spread that Sara raced after you.”

Sara was staring at the letter, at the horrific words of Meredith's last moments. Images sprang forth of Meredith lying on the ground in the woods of Hyde Park. That was where they had found her. All alone. Her body cold. Sara closed her eyes, but the images remained.

“Mother, that is enough,” Ross said with a harshness Sara had never heard from him. It was enough to silence the duchess for a moment.

“What's wrong?” Elizabeth asked. “Sara, dear, are you all right?”

“Obviously, she is not,” Ross said. He was standing close enough that Sara could lean on him if she wanted. She desperately wanted to, but the prospect of Lady Penelope and her mother seeing the spectacle stopped her, not to mention Elizabeth standing a few feet away.

“What happened? Did she receive bad news?” Elizabeth asked.

Sara carefully folded the letter and handed it to Ross, who was looking at her as if she might shatter.

“If you'll excuse me, Your Grace, but I must call off…I cannot…” She waved her hand toward the drawing room.

“Of course,” Elizabeth said in concern. “I will make your excuses. But Sara, please tell me what is wrong.”

“I…can't.” She looked at Ross in desperation. Her knees were quivering so hard that she feared they would give out on her.

Ross took her by the elbow and anchored her. Elizabeth looked on, partly in disapproval and partly in fear. “Will someone please tell me what is happening?” she said.

“Not now. If you could attend to our guests, I will attend to Lady Sara. Hector, please send for Mr. Montgomery,” Ross said.

It looked as if Elizabeth wanted to say something more but thought better of it. Instead she returned to the drawing room while Ross escorted Sara to his study.

“It was sent from a postal office near St. Giles,” Montgomery said.

It had been a few hours since the letter arrived. For a while Ross had feared Sara would faint, but she rallied after he forced her to take a few sips of whiskey, which had done wonders for bringing her color back. She was now sitting quietly on the settee, listening to Montgomery. All outward appearances pointed to the fact that she was calm, but Ross knew his Sara well. Her hands were fisted, and if she moved her fingers, there was a slight tremble to them. Her eyes were wide, and there was still fear in them.

“That's close to Mrs. Kettles's establishment,” Ross said.

“I have uncovered another bit of news,” Montgomery said hesitantly.

The fact that he was hesitant made Ross's gut clench. “What is it?”

Montgomery looked pointedly at Sara.

“Oh, no,” she said with far more spine than Ross expected. “You will not send me out of the room to talk about this.”

Montgomery looked at Ross.

“And you don't need to look at Ross for permission. I give you permission to speak in front of me.”

“Sara—”

Sara glared at Ross, who shut his mouth and nodded to Montgomery. Whatever Montgomery said, Ross would have told her anyway. She had a way about her that kept him from denying her anything.

“There was a murder in Venice a few months after Lady Meredith's,” Montgomery said. “I don't have specifics, but it sounds suspiciously similar.”

“Do you believe the same man who murdered Meredith murdered this other woman?” Sara asked.

“I can't say at this time. Although from what I have been able to discern, the two women looked alike.”

The three fell silent as they tried to digest this newest piece of information. That there had been another murder made Ross feel sick. Another woman had fallen victim to Meredith's killer, another family devastated. If they had been able to catch him right away, someone else might still be alive today. How many others were there? How many had this monster left in his wake?

“This Charlie from the nethersken, he said he went on a grand tour two years ago,” Sara said.

“The times match up,” Montgomery said.

“And if the letter was sent from a post box close to the rookery, it stands to reason that he has returned there.” Ross cursed. “Mrs. Kettles said she would tell us if he returned.”

“No doubt he is back in town. Whether he's at the nethersken, we don't know. What we do know is that if he is the same person as this Charlie, and if Charlie really did go on a grand tour, then he is not without funds. He could be staying at his home with his family and avoiding the rookery.”

“We need to return to the rookery to find out,” Ross said.

“I'm going with you,” Sara said.

It was on the tip of Ross's tongue to say no, and Sara must have guessed that, because she shot him another lethal glare. Truly, he would be dead by now if her glares could slice through skin. While he wanted to keep her safe—namely, locked in his house with James guarding the door—he knew that wasn't possible. Sara wasn't a piece of fine china to put up on a shelf and admire. She wanted to be involved, and she
would
be involved, whether he liked it or not. His choices were to lock her in and face her wrath and take the chance that she would sneak out, or bring her with him.

He far preferred to remain in her company and knew most of his reasons were selfish.

Once again Ross found himself in the close confines of the carriage on the way to a nethersken with Sara. Though he'd had every intention of promptly returning to India, he wasn't all that upset by where he was now. If only it weren't because she had received another letter.

“We need a list of gentlemen who went on a grand tour two years ago,” she said.

“I fear no list is available.”

“Then we need to ask around. Maybe we can attend another ball.” She grimaced at that thought. “Or some such event and ask people.”

Ross's lips twitched. She was forever amazing him. “And how do you propose doing that? Just outright asking every male you come across?”

“Of course not. We would have to be discreet.”

“You despise balls, and by your own admission, you despise making conversation with people.”

“For this I would do it.”

“So why does it look like you've just sucked on a lemon?”

Her lips twitched in a smile, and then she laughed and the sound was musical. For a moment he forgot why they were in a carriage and why Sara had entered his life again, and he just enjoyed laughing with her.

Eventually, the laughter died on her lips and then in her eyes and she turned serious. “Do you have friends who went on their grand tour in the past two years?”

“I'm afraid I am of no help there. I've been out of society for the past two years.”

She tilted her head to study him. “Did you get a grand tour?”

“No. My father died when I was barely fifteen. I've been busy running the dukedom since.”

“I'm sorry.”

He lifted a brow. “Sorry because I didn't get to tour the world?”

“Sorry that you were so burdened at such a young age.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It was what I was born to and what I had to do.”

She settled more comfortably and looked at him speculatively. He'd been in tough situations in India, but none of them made his insides tremble as much as that look did. She was thinking something, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what.

What intrigued him about her—well, one of the things that intrigued him about her—was that she had no problems making conversation with him. So why did she suffer so in social situations?

“Do you recall any of your friends embarking on their grand tours two years ago?” It wasn't the question he thought she'd ask, even though he had no idea what she was going to ask.

“No, but I wasn't living in London at the time.”

“And where were you living?”

“India.”

“India is not the usual place a gentleman travels to.”

“I was asked to go by Queen Victoria.”

“The queen asked you to go to India.” She said this in a flat voice, as if she didn't believe him.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There were uprisings against the British, and she wanted someone she trusted to investigate them and report back to her.”

“You were sent to a war zone?” she asked, still unbelieving.

“It wasn't quite that dangerous.”

He'd always wondered why the request had come at the time it did—right after Meredith's unsolved murder case was closed. He suspected his mother had something to do with it. Elizabeth had been a lady-in-waiting to the queen for a short time, and the two had been close for a while. He wouldn't put it past his mother to call in a favor or two. He hadn't thought much about it at the time. He'd gone because he'd wanted to and he'd needed to. And now he was grateful he'd been given the opportunity, for it had changed him in so many ways.

“There were too many rumors surrounding Meredith's murder,” he said, even though he'd had no intention of saying any of this. “There were too many people speculating. I was bombarded by journalists asking questions, and the invitations were flooding in. People didn't care about me or Meredith, they just wanted my notoriety to add intrigue to their dinner parties. I had no peace to mourn.”

“Did it work? Running to India?”

He smiled. How like her to see right through him.

“Yes. I saw things I would have never seen while attending balls and soirees and my parliamentary duties. I saw war and deprivation and death. I saw perseverance in the face of certain defeat, and I saw the resilience of the human spirit.” He had witnessed so many things. Things he would never tell anyone. Things he tried to forget and things he tried to never forget.

“They changed you, these things you saw.”

“They did. They made me realize that life isn't about what ball you're invited to or what people you associate with. It's about what you do with the time you have.”

She reached across the carriage and put her hand over his. He looked into her eyes. “I'm proud of you,” she said softly.

“For growing up?”

“For growing.”

He looked away, discomfited.

“Is that where you were when I first arrived in London?”

“I had returned the day I received you. I'd been called back by the queen to give my report in person, and I had every intention of returning, even if she didn't want me to.”

“And does she want you to?”

Did she sound a little breathless when she asked that? He wasn't certain. “I don't know. I've yet to meet with her. Every meeting we've scheduled, she has been indisposed and canceled.”

The carriage rattled to a stop and Ross fell silent. He'd never told anyone about the things he had seen, and while he hadn't been specific, he'd told her more than he'd told any other person.

Before he could think more on that, the hack driver tapped the window with his whip, indicating they were at their destination. Ross hopped out and reached in to help Sara down. Her fingers felt so fragile in his, but he knew that to be false. She was as strong—stronger—than any woman he had ever met. She was fiercely loyal to her family and stubborn enough to keep her father going. She stood behind Meredith even though she admitted that her cousin was not all that society had deemed her to be. He knew she would make a formidable duchess, though not if she didn't believe in herself.

He shelved that thought as they walked into Mrs. Kettles's nethersken. The place was silent and empty. Sara looked around, and Ross knew she was looking for the children they had seen the last time, the ones who haunted her thoughts. He, too, wished to save everyone, but he was pragmatic enough to know that wasn't possible. At least for one person. That was why it was imperative that they get bills passed in Parliament that would aid the orphaned children and protect them against the evils of the people who lived on the streets. Nevertheless he found himself looking in the corner where the blond waif had sat with the baby on her shoulder. That the place was empty was more disturbing than if they'd been there.

Mrs. Kettles entered from a back room. Her look was none too friendly when she spied them. “What d'ye want?”

“Good day, Mrs. Kettles. We are here to follow up on our previous visit. We were wondering if our brother has returned,” Sara said, taking the lead.

Mrs. Kettles glanced at Sara, then back at Ross. “No.”

She was lying. It was in the gleam of her eye and the way she squared her body toward them.

“I—
We
have reason to believe that he has been here,” Sara said.

“Ain't seen 'im.”

“I believe you have,” Ross said quietly.

“You should leave.” The gleam in her eye turned to fear.

“Why?”

“I ain't tellin' you nothin'.”

“I promised to pay you handsomely.”

“I ain't takin' yer blunt. I 'ave a business to run, and some of me clients are not on the right side of the law. I take yer blunt, I lose their trust and I lose me business. Now git out.”

Ross's back teeth came together. He'd never been ejected from such a place, and it rubbed him the wrong way. On the other hand, he understood what she was saying. If she lost her credibility with her tenants, then she would have no more tenants.

“Are you saying my brother is on the wrong side of the law?” Sara asked with a bite to her words.

“I ain't sayin' nothin' more.” To emphasize her point, she pressed her lips together and glared at them.

Ross and Sara exchanged a glance. Their one good lead had just disappeared.

Ross took Sara's arm and guided her out of the nethersken.

“That didn't end well,” Sara murmured.

“No. Unfortunately not.”

“Do you think he was here?”

“I do. Recently, too. I'll ask Montgomery if we can put a man in here to keep an eye on things. Maybe Charlie will return and we can follow him.”

He tried to propel her to the waiting carriage, but she dug her heels in. Ross sighed.

“What do you think happened to them?” She was referring to the children.

“It's a transient area, Sara. They probably moved on. Maybe their parents found a job in a nice house.”

Sara's look told him she didn't believe that any more than he did. “I pray no harm has come to them.”

He did as well, but there was naught they could do unless they traipsed through the rookery looking for them and asking questions. That was a bad idea on many levels.

The ride back to Rossmoyne House was silent.

“We will find him,” Ross promised.

“I hope so.”

“Will you please stay at Rossmoyne House? At least until this person is caught and I know you're safe. After that you're free to go wherever you please.” The words hurt to say, but he had to say them. He didn't want her leaving afterward, but that decision had to be Sara's.

“I will stay,” she said, taking an enormous weight off his shoulders. “But only because I don't wish to bring danger to the Blackbourne's doorstep.”

“Fair enough.”

“Sara.”

Sara stared blankly until Grace snapped her fingers in front of Sara's face, causing her to blink.

“You disappeared on me for a moment. Where did you go?”

Sara smiled thinly. “My head was in the clouds.”

“What were you thinking so deeply about?” Grace asked.

Sara passed a hand over her face. “Forgive me, Grace. I asked you to come here to help you plan your dinner party, and I've been no help at all.”

“You obviously have more on your mind than whether we should serve lamb or beef.”

Sara hadn't told Grace about the latest letter or the threat it contained. She didn't want to alarm her friend. Although she'd had to ask Grace to come to Rossmoyne House because Ross would not allow her to go to Grace's without him. And how awkward would it be to drag Ross to a dinner planning? Grace would have known something was amiss.

“I remember a time when you cornered me in a teahouse and forced me to talk about my problems.”

Sara smiled at the memory of the time when Grace's husband, thought dead for nearly a year, returned from war injured, a changed man. Grace had been wasting away, trying to juggle it all and refusing to ask for help.

“I merely offered friendship,” Sara said.

Grace leaned forward. “I am doing the same.”

Sara looked down at the invitations in front of her. The ones she had been tasked to write and hadn't yet.

“Is it Rossmoyne?” Grace asked.

“Yes. And no.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Must I pull it out of you word by word?”

“I have feelings for him.” There. She'd finally said it out loud, but that didn't make her feel any better. In fact, it made her feel worse.

“That was not said with any degree of happiness. Love should not make you miserable.”

“I didn't say
that
word.”

Grace's eyes twinkled. “And what word would that be?”

“The love word.”

“So you are not in love with him?”

Sara pressed her lips together. She would not say that, either.

“It's a simple yes-or-no answer, Sara.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Very well. What is holding you back from loving him?”

“It's not feasible.”

Grace laughed. “Love never is, dear friend.”

Sara pulled the invitations closer to her. “We should focus on what you came here for. I'm sure Lord Blackbourne is expecting you home soon.”

Grace tugged the invitations out of Sara's hands. “As a matter of fact, he is not. Ross is in love with you.”

“What?” The word came out as a high-pitched squeak. “He is certainly not.”

Grace shrugged. “I know only what I see, and I see the way he looks at you. Why did you ask me to come here instead of coming to my house?”

“Because Ross thought it was better this way.”

Grace smirked. The wretch.

“That has nothing to do with love.” Sara was an obligation to him. A way for him to right past wrongs. Even though she disagreed with him. “I have to return to Hadley Springs and my father.”

Grace sighed. “Not that again.”

“Yes, that again. He needs me, Grace.”

“I don't want to be cruel, but Sara, honey, your father has no idea if you're there or not.”

Well, that hurt. If her father didn't need her, then what was her purpose in life? She had no one. Her mother had moved on without them. And Meredith…Meredith had never needed her in the first place. Grace was busy with her husband and everything that entailed. Sara looked away and blinked back tears.

“Oh, Sara.” Grace squeezed her arm. “Forgive me. It was not my purpose to hurt your feelings. Oh, dear. I shouldn't have said anything. I should have kept my mouth closed. Will you ever forgive me?”

“There's nothing to forgive. However, you are wrong. If I weren't there, Father would forget to eat or even leave his laboratory. He needs someone to take care of him.”

Sara had to look away from the pity in Grace's eyes. She could practically hear what her friend was thinking: The housekeeper was performing those tasks while Sara was gone.