A Lady's Guide to Improper Behavior by Suzanne Enoch (21)

Michael and Lord Gardner arrived at James House together. Theresa looked up from reading Tolly’s account of the Thuggee attack as her brother and the viscount entered the sitting room. “What is it?” she asked, reading the tense look on her brother’s face.

“Some daft bastard proposed a resolution condemning any soldier who claimed to have been attacked by the Thuggee,” he said, glancing about the room. “Which is apparently one soldier in all of England.”

“Where’s Tolly?” Stephen asked, his expression even more angry. “We put the issue down for now, but it’s bound to arise again. I thought he should know.”

“He’s gone out to see someone,” she stated, feeling a bit self-conscious sitting in the room Tolly had occupied for ten days and reading his private scribblings. “He asked me to look over this.”

“And how is it?” Lord Gardner shifted, looking as though he wanted to read through it, himself.

“Frightening. Your brother has a very matter-of-fact way of stating the most horrific of occurrences.” He actually wrote the way he spoke, and though it wasn’t full of the adjectives Lackaby claimed it needed, it was brutal and forthright. And very convincing.

“What is it?” Michael asked, frowning as he looked from one to the other of them.

Oh, heavens. Michael hadn’t been included in their little circle of conspirators. If there was anyone else they could trust, however, it was her older brother. She took a breath. “Tolly looked for other survivors, someone to corroborate his story, but he couldn’t find anyone. The only other way we could think of to help him regain his reputation was for him to write about his experience. And it’s a secret; don’t say anything to anyone else.”

“That’s fairly brilliant,” Michael said after a moment. “Is that why you’ve been scampering over here every day? To help him write his memoirs? That’s a bit different than your booklet on proper behavior, isn’t it?” He paused. “Unless there’s anything you’d care to tell me. Is there?”

He couldn’t possibly have guessed. “Not at present.”

Stephen left the sitting room. “Come downstairs with us. Amelia and Grandmama Agnes are just sitting down for luncheon.”

“I thought they were going out to secure a new kitten.”

“Good God,” Michael muttered.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Lord Gardner motioned them toward the stairs.

Theresa sighed. She would much rather have remained in the sitting room to finish Tolly’s writings, but she was a guest in the James home. Holding the papers against her chest, she led the way out to the garden terrace where Violet had joined the other two ladies and the footmen were setting out fruit and thinly sliced ham.

It all seemed so…peaceful. In the spring, shortly after Leelee and Stephen had married, they’d had luncheons exactly like this one at least once a week. Everyone chatted, said witty things to one another, and they hadn’t a care in the world—at least not one they discussed.

How things had changed. For the first time in years she felt…free, able and ready to move forward with her life. No more being pleasant and polite simply because she was terrified to be otherwise, and no more telling her suitors she simply wasn’t ready to marry when in reality she never would be. The only thing missing from luncheon today was Tolly.

“What do you have there?” Amelia finally asked in the middle of the general conversation, indicating the papers at her elbow.

“Just something Tolly asked me to read,” she said, keeping her tone breezy. “Pass me the butter, will you?”

“Is that what he’s been doing in the sitting room?” Violet took up, leaning sideways to eye the papers. “Writing?”

“What did you think he was doing?” her brother replied with a grin. “Painting lead soldiers?”

“Well, I had no idea, did I? No one tells me anything these days. All I hear is what other people are saying about Tolly. I nearly punched Sarah Saunders in the nose yesterday because she said that her uncle said that once Tolly climbed out of his wheeled chair, no one would want anything to do with him at all.”

“Your brother is a very brave man,” Theresa said quietly. “And hopefully very soon everyone will realize that.”

“I hope so,” Violet stated emphatically. “Because I may not be able to restrain myself for much longer.” She indicated the papers. “Could I read that when you’re finished?”

“No,” Theresa and Stephen said in unison.

“Well.”

Clearing her throat, Theresa reached over to grip Violet’s fingers. “You will be able to read it, but it’s not quite finished yet. And what it says is…awful. I think Tolly will want to talk with you about it first.”

His younger sister sighed. “Very well. Where is he, anyway?”

“He had an errand. He should be back soon.”

By three o’clock, however, Tolly still hadn’t returned. Tess had read through his account twice, and written a half page of her own notes and a few possible adjectives. She was glad she’d suggested the newspaper editorial; he’d been correct in thinking that the story was so powerful, putting it into the middle of a long account would only dilute it.

Stretching, she stood and walked to the sitting room window again. He’d ridden to Ainsley House to speak with the Duke of Sommerset. She assumed that Sommerset would read the other copy of the paper, then decide whether he agreed that it was enough by itself or would be better in a longer, even-handed memoir. And then he would either provide Tolly with contact information for the London Times, or he wouldn’t.

It would take some time, of course, but it had been four hours. Unless Sommerset was completely illiterate, which she knew he wasn’t, they should have finished their discussion already. Or if Sommerset hadn’t been home, Tolly should have returned. Her heart stuttered. What if Sommerset had simply dismissed the story completely? That would leave them out of ideas to rescue Tolly’s reputation. And where might he have gone, if that were the case?

Oh, dear. Trying to keep herself calm, she headed out to find Lord Gardner. He and Michael were in the billiards room, in the middle of a game. “Excuse me,” she said, “but if Tolly were…upset about something, where would he go?”

Stephen set down his billiards cue. “What do you mean, ‘upset’?”

“I mean that he should have been back by now.”

“Perhaps it would help if you told me where he went, Tess.”

For a moment she looked from her brother to her cousin-in-law. As far as she knew Tolly had only spoken about Sommerset to her because she’d followed him to Ainsley House. No one else knew. But how long was she supposed to wait before she did something? Six hours? Eight?

Quietly she closed the door behind her. “He rode to Ainsley House. Sommerset has allied himself with Tolly, and agreed to assist with the publication. Tolly wanted his opinion on publishing in the newspaper rather than taking the time to write an entire book.”

“And you think Sommerset turned him down?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that he’s been gone for better than four hours. I’ve read everything through twice, had luncheon, made notes, and had time to worry.”

Stephen and Michael glanced at one another. Whatever it was they were communicating, she didn’t like it. Worry deepened into fear.

“What?” she demanded.

“I’ll have our horses saddled,” Stephen said, moving past her to open the door again. “You wait here with Amelia and Violet and your grandmother.”

“No. I’m going with you.”

“You’re not dressed for riding, Tess,” Michael pointed out. “Stay here.”

“No.” She pushed past them as they hurried down the stairs. “Leelee!”

Her cousin appeared from the drawing room. “Goodness! What is it?”

“I need to borrow your horse.”

“Certainly. What’s amiss?”

“Nothing,” Stephen put in. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Graham the butler pulled open the front door just as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Theresa abruptly stopped as she saw the figure in the door-way. Her relief, though, almost immediately slid into annoyed frustration. “Alexander? What are you doing here?”

Lord Montrose sent a glance at the butler, then moved past him into the foyer. “I’ve been calling at Weller House for nearly a week,” he said in a low voice. “I finally realized that you must be here.”

“Well, yes, I am. But I’m about to lea—”

“I need to speak with you.”

Cupping her elbow in one hand, Michael moved around her. “Five minutes,” he said, following Stephen out the front door and around toward the stable. “Or we’re leaving without you.”

Scowling, she backed into the morning room. “This way,” she said, gesturing Alexander to follow her.

“Is something amiss?” he asked, glancing back toward the foyer.

“Just a bit of an errand. What may I do for you?”

“I want you to come and see Montrose Park,” he said. “If you agree, I’ll arrange for a house party. Bring any of your friends you like. But I think once you see the estate of which you could be mistress, any hesitation you have about marrying me will be erased.”

Oh, dear. “Alexander, I don’t want to leave London during the Season.”

“Not even for me?”

“Not for anyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to g—”

“This is about Colonel James, I suppose?” he interrupted, his eyes cool.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he’s the only gentleman in residence whom I haven’t seen, and he’s the one who seems to infatuate you.”

Infatuate, obsess, trouble, stir—so many words at the moment. “I really can’t speak to that, but excuse me.”

“I’ll ride with you.”

Halfway through the door, she paused. “No, you won’t.”

“You can hardly stop me. And if this has something to do with him confronting the East India Company, I’d prefer not to miss it.” He sent her a grim smile. “Though I have to admit that my own hopes more than likely run contrary to his.”

“Tess!” her brother’s voice came from outside.

“Come along then,” she decided, turning her back on him.

“Miss Tess!”

For heaven’s sake. She sent a quick glance up the stairs at Lackaby as the valet charged into view. “Later, if you please,” she snapped, and hurried outside.

“No, miss,” the valet countered, actually catching her arm. “Now.”

“Unhand her,” Montrose ordered, his tone highly affronted.

Theresa, though, had seen the look in the valet’s eyes. “What is it, Lackaby?”

“I’m to keep my eyes on you, Miss Tess,” the valet said.

That caught her attention all over again. “Why?”

“I, ah, it was my orders, miss.”

Clearly there were too many blasted secrets in this group. Scowling, Theresa grabbed him by the arm and pulled him onto the drive. “Why are you to keep your eyes on me?” she demanded. “The truth. Now.”

“When the colonel asks why I gabbed to you, you have to tell him that you threatened to sack me or something.”

“Yes, very well.”

By now Stephen and Michael had reached them again, both of them scowling. The valet looked as though he would rather be eating bugs, but he nodded. “The last fortnight or so, someone’s been…hanging about the house. Outside. Colonel James figured it was the Company, trying to find out if he meant to do anything to counter their report on the Thuggee.”

“What?” Stephen asked, fury darkening his features.

“The fellow followed the colonel, which is what he figured, but he wanted me to be sure you was safe, Miss Tess.”

Stephen motioned at a groom to dismount. “You’re coming with us, then, Lackaby. Now.”

Theresa wanted to gallop to Ainsley House, but in the late afternoon the Mayfair streets were choked with carriages and riders paying visits or returning visits. And in the middle of it, her, the former princess of propriety, riding to the house of a bachelor duke in the company of three gentlemen and a valet.

They were met in the Ainsley House drive by a pair of grooms, who moved up swiftly and professionally to take charge of the horses. Stephen led the way up the shallow front steps and pounded on the front door. Ideally Tolly himself would meet them, saying he’d just been on his way back home and what the devil were they all doing there looking for him.

The door opened, revealing a tall, angular man in crisp red and black livery. “Good afternoon,” he said politely.

“Is the Duke of Sommerset in?” Stephen asked, clearly impatient to be inside.

“His Grace is currently unavailable. May I inform him that you came to call?”

“It’s rather urgent,” Tolly’s brother replied. “Please tell him that Lord Gardner and Lord Weller are here, looking for Colonel Bartholomew James.” Behind him, Alexander cleared his throat. “And Lord Montrose,” he added.

“As I said, my lord, His Grace is currently unavailable. I will be honored to deliver any message or letter to him when he is—”

“Is my brother here?” the viscount demanded.

“I am not at liberty to speak of or for anyone but His Grace. The—”

Theresa backed away as Michael joined in the argument with the butler. Silently she walked down the side of the house to the vine covered archway and the plain door beneath it. This was how Tolly had entered and left the house before. Perhaps he’d done so again today.

Taking a breath, she tried the handle. Locked. Considering the raised voices at the front door, Stephen and the others still weren’t having any luck gaining either entry or answers. And she wanted—needed—to know where Tolly was, and if he was well. Balling her fist, she knocked on the door.

Silence.

He’d gotten in somehow the last time, and in the middle of the night. She knocked again, waited, and then pounded. Still nothing. “Open this door,” she called, feeling rather silly, “or I shall scream so loudly that all Mayfair will come running to investigate!”

The door opened.

A stout, broad-shouldered man stepped into the opening, blocking her view of the inside. “This is a private entrance,” he said stiffly. “Please use the front door.”

Before he could shut the door again, Theresa stuck her foot in the way. “I am looking for Colonel Bartholomew James. He came here at eleven o’clock this morning, and he was expected back home hours ago. Is he still here?”

“I have no idea why you would think that anyone would be here at the side entry to Ainsley House, miss. Please call at the front d—”

Theresa took a deep breath to scream. Almost immediately another hand reached around the first fellow and yanked her inside, slamming the door closed behind her. “Unhand me at—”

“You are not supposed to be here,” the Duke of Sommerset growled, still gripping her arm hard.

Despite her abrupt uneasiness, part of her was immensely relieved. “Your Grace. I’m looking for Colonel J—”

“I heard you the first time.” His gray eyes hard as steel, he dragged her back from the door. “Sit down.”

As he released her, she sat down hard in a chair. For the first time, she looked around her. A dozen tables and thrice that many chairs lay scattered across a wide, open floor, a comfortable sofa and more well-padded chairs at the back of the room in front of a fireplace. Books lined the back walls, and two tall, narrow windows overlooked the lovely Ainsley House garden, with a billiards table and a pianoforte beneath them.

Several of the chairs were occupied, with a half dozen or so men all staring at her and none of them looking very happy to see her there. “What is this?” she asked.

“None of your business,” the duke returned, sitting opposite her. “What makes you think your Colonel James would be here?”

Whoever these men were, Tolly likely wouldn’t appreciate them knowing his business. She sat forward in her chair so she could lower her voice. “He came here to bring you some…reading material,” she said quietly. “Please don’t assume I’m a fool. All I want to know is if he is still here, or when he left.”

Sommerset gazed at her for a long moment. “I haven’t seen him today,” he said finally.

Her heart stopped. “But he came specifically to ask your opinion on a newspaper editorial approach,” she hissed, clenching her fists. “Your Grace, he left James House before eleven o’clock this morning.”

He didn’t move, but she had the abrupt sensation that a great sleek panther had come awake. “You’re certain he came here?” he asked in a low voice.

“Positive. He brought a draft of his account. We thought that—well, that doesn’t matter now. I have four men pounding at your front door at this moment trying to reach you. Perhaps your butler turned Tolly away, too.”

“My butler would not have turned Tolly away.” With a low curse he stood, offering her a hand up. “Come with me.”

Swiftly he led her across the length of the room and through another door that led into what looked more like the inside of a very wealthy gentleman’s home. “What was back there?” she asked again, indicating the other room.

“A refuge. Pray don’t mention it. You’ve come through the servants’ entrance. Is that clear?”

“Yes, of course.”

A moment later they were in the foyer, and he gestured for his butler to stand aside. “This way, gentlemen,” he said.

“It’s about damned time,” Stephen snapped, then noticed Theresa. “How did you manage to break the siege?”

“I came in through the servants’ entrance,” she said. “His Grace says Tolly never arrived here this morning.”

They entered a large sitting room, but Theresa, at least, couldn’t remain still long enough to join the men in the chairs. He’d never arrived. Somewhere between James House and Sommerset’s residence, he’d…vanished. Where? And why? It had to have something to do with the man watching James House, but what, precisely?

“How long have you been assisting my brother with this damned East In—”

“What are you doing here, Montrose?” Sommerset interrupted.

The marquis sent a quick glance at Theresa. “My interest is in Miss Weller. But whatever my personal feelings about Colonel James, I’m not some villain. If he’s missing, I will do what I can to assist.”

“Then you will also be expected to keep several confidences. I don’t want to threaten you and thereby lessen the impact of your…selfless behavior, but I think you know what I can do to you if I am betrayed.”

“Yes, well, if you threatened everyone I would feel a bit better, but I understand. And I agree.”

With a nod, Sommerset gave the men a swift review of their literary plans and why they’d decided to keep it all a secret. Privately Theresa didn’t see why they needed to waste time with explanations, but at the same time if she refrained from interrupting they would finish with the nonsense more quickly.

“Have you heard any stirrings from the East India Company?” Michael asked, his own expression growing grimmer by the moment. “Any indication that they know what’s afoot?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Sommerset replied.

“If they know anything, then they’ll know not to inform you,” Theresa stated, gazing again out the window.

“True enough.”

“Lackaby, tell him about the man watching James House,” she ordered.

It was men, as the valet explained it, apparently taking turns and none of them familiar to either Tolly or Lackaby. Why hadn’t Tolly told her? Theresa shook herself. She would be very happy to have the opportunity to yell at him later.

“So where do we begin looking?” she asked, facing the men once more. “Because I’m finished with chatting about who might know what.”

“Determining who might know what,” the duke returned, “is the best way to figure where Tolly might be.”

“The East India Company,” Lord Gardner ground out, his jaws clenched, “seems to be our one and only suspect. What would they do with my brother?”

“Kill him, I would imagine,” Sommerset answered.

Theresa froze, her blood turning to ice and her heart stopping. “No,” she whispered, everything going numb.

Her brother grabbed her as her legs gave out. “Damnation, Sommerset,” he growled. “My sister is in love with him, if you haven’t noticed. Show some decency.”

“No,” she said, fighting her way upright again. “Decency won’t help Tolly. What if we made it known that there is another copy of his account out there? Surely they wouldn’t harm him if doing so would give his story credibility.”

Thankfully no one mentioned aloud that her plan would only work if he wasn’t dead already, but she knew they all had to be thinking that. She was. Instead, Sommerset rose. “You are a very bright young lady.” He pulled open the door. “Have Khan saddled. Now.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler returned, hurrying out of the foyer.

“What’s your plan?” Tolly’s brother demanded.

“This little parade is going to call on Lord Hadderly and inform him of exactly what Miss Weller suggested. The sooner the better.” He looked over his shoulder, his gaze remaining on Theresa. “I recommend that you return home.”

“And I recommend that Lackaby return home, so if Tolly reappears someone will know where to come and inform us. If there’s a hunt, I’m going to be in on it.”

And if something had happened to Tolly James, she would wither away and die. But before that, she would make damned certain that what he meant to accomplish, happened. No matter what.