Who are you, and what do you want with us?

The following afternoon, around the same time as the previous day, Henrietta stood in the shadow of one of the promenade’s elegant shelters. She had made an excuse to Ewan that she wished to check on her gown at Fordham’s. Indeed, she had promised to take the carriage straight there and back, but necessity had driven her to the promenade, where she hoped to spot the mysterious Isobel. She no longer knew what the girl’s surname might be, but she planned to find out.

She had waited almost an hour, with no sign of the enigmatic woman. Ewan would be waiting for her back at the Old Bell, and if she lingered any longer, he would begin to grow suspicious. She had evaded her father’s soldiers, but they’d all come running if they thought she was in trouble. Irritated, she turned on her heel to head back to the carriage.

A shadow distracted her attention—a blur in the corner of her eye. She whirled around to discover a figure darting back into the recess behind a shelter a short distance away. It could only be Isobel; Henrietta would have known that dark hair and thin frame anywhere. Moreover, she was wearing the same threadbare gown that she’d been wearing the first time.

“Stop, you!” Henrietta bellowed, startling a couple nearby. Paying them no heed, she hurried after the rapidly-departing woman. This time, she would not escape.

Why is she spying on me in this manner? Has Mr. Booth sent her to follow my every move? It made perfect sense. She had told nobody of her plan to leave the Old Bell, but perhaps this woman had been employed to trail her at all times, regardless of where she went. I will have to pay closer attention to the people who linger around the inn.

She raced behind the promenade shelter, only to find that the woman had vanished into thin air. Infuriated by Isobel’s apparent evasiveness, she stalked the surrounding area for ten more minutes, before giving up and returning to the carriage.

I will find you, whoever you are. You may count on that.

The following evening, still somewhat irked by her inability to discover the identity of the mysterious woman, Henrietta took her snifter of brandy and stepped out into the cool evening air. The inn had a pleasant garden, which she had enjoyed very little since arriving. Ewan had retired to his rooms, and her mother and father were still inside. It was a pleasant moment of private reverie, with her and the sea, and nothing else.

She glanced up at the window of her bedchamber, knowing it looked out on the same view. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of the Marquess. They had grown so much closer than she ever could have imagined and, now, she was not certain she could picture an existence without him. How that had occurred, she had no idea, but it seemed as though a divine providence was giving them a sliver of happiness.

A sight startled her. There was a face at the window above, where her bedchamber sat. For a moment, she wondered if she was seeing things, for once she had blinked to clear her vision, the apparition had disappeared. A bite of terror nipped at her heart. She had not seen the face clearly, merely a pale glint in the gloom, and a set of eyes fixed on her.

“There you are,” a voice spoke.

Henrietta whirled around in fright. “Who goes there?”

“Your husband,” Ewan replied, stepping into the faint torchlight that flickered from the backdoor’s iron sconce.

She held her hand to her heart. “My Lord, you must not do that. You scared me half to death, creeping out of the shadows like a common ruffian.”

He chuckled. “’I’m a common ruffian, am I?”

“You might have been.”

“Well, there is nothing to fear now, for I am here to protect you from the creatures that lurk in the darkness.” He stepped forward, a shy smile on his face. Immediately, her fear softened. He had that effect on her. Whenever he was near, she felt as though no man could harm her—especially not Mr. Booth.

“You really ought to announce yourself first, before you approach a lone lady,” she chided playfully, pulling her shawl tighter about herself.

“Are you cold, My Lady?”

“Not so much. It is merely the chill you gave me when you startled me out of my wits.”

He put his arm around her gently. “Still, you must allow me to lend you some of my heat, for the evening’s brandy has left me feeling somewhat warmed.”

“That is my father’s fault. He continued to pour, even when I told him to stop. Even my mother urged him to desist, and yet he poured glass after glass.”

“It is his nerves, I feel,” Ewan replied. “He is anxious about the ball.”

“I hear the men have arrived.”

He nodded. “Yes, they are settled into another inn, on the outskirts of town. They will remain there until the ball, when they will ensure that all exits are covered.”

“But the parkland there is so large—do you really believe they will be able to protect me if something should happen?”

Ewan frowned. “Are you having second thoughts, My Lady?”

“No… I suppose my own fears are beginning to creep in. I have tried to swallow them, but they are rather persistent.”

He glanced down and looked into her eyes. “I will not let any harm come to you, I swear it on all I hold dear.”

“Do you truly promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Henrietta turned her gaze back toward the horizon. “That comforts me.”

“I am glad that it does.”

She smiled. “How did we come to be here, like this?”

“Well, we were married against both of our wills, and we have made the best of it. It has taken time, but from a tentative friendship, affection has developed. I suppose it is the natural order of lasting love,” he said, his gaze dropping as he realized what he had said.

Henrietta chuckled at his bashfulness, though she felt his words keenly. Does he love me? Truly? She had never expected it from him, but she did not mind the idea so much anymore.

“You believe we will be blessed with a lasting love?” she queried shyly, not turning to face him. She could not, lest his expression give him away.

“I think we may, if we are very, very fortunate,” he murmured, pulling her closer to him. He felt warm against the cold night, her head resting on his shoulder as they looked out toward the sea together.

In that moment, she almost able forget about the face she had seen in the window, putting it down to the nascent moonlight that peeked out from behind a cloud. A reflection, that’s all it was—the ghost of a frightened imagination. At least, that is what she hoped it was.

With two days to go before the Autumn Ball at Scampston Hall, the afternoon came when Henrietta was supposed to meet with Isobel in the alleyway behind the postal office. She had considered not going, knowing it was likely that the mysterious woman would not show up. After all, she had run from her on two occasions now—why would she appear now?

Funnily enough, after accidentally chasing Isobel away on those two occasions, an entire five days had passed without incident. There had been no letters, no messages, no words of warning. All had been silent, and Henrietta didn’t know whether to be glad of the quiet or be fearful of it. Had the girl reported to Seth, and he had told her to be more discreet? It seemed like it.

However, curiosity would not allow her to remain at the Old Bell, if there was even the slightest chance that Isobel would arrive. Besides, the gentlemen were busy making arrangements for the ball in two days’ time, and her mother had taken to her bed with an anxiety-induced headache. Nobody would miss her for an hour or so.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Ewan asked suspiciously, catching her on her way out of the door.

“I have an appointment,” she replied.

“With that woman?”

She shrugged. “If she appears. I doubt she will, and yet, I have to know.”

“I will accompany you.”

“You are busy with preparations. You need not trouble yourself.”

He smiled. “It is not a request, My Lady. With all of these worrying things happening around you, I am not letting you out of my sight. Gerome told me of your jaunt the other day, when you said you were taking the carriage to Fordham’s. I did not mention it, as you are free to do as you please, but I do not like the idea of you being in harm’s way whilst I know nothing of your whereabouts.”

Henrietta gaped at him. “Gerome told you where I was? How did he know? Are you having me followed now?” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended, but he only laughed in response.

“Not at all. He was already at Fordham’s when you were supposed to be there. He spotted the carriage by the promenade and noted you hiding in one of the shelters. He did not care to disturb you, as he is polite to a fault, but he did inform me of your curious behavior.” He paused, offering a disappointed look. “Fortunately, I guessed what you were up to. Gerome, no doubt, finds you somewhat strange.”

“You might have mentioned it, instead of embarrassing me in this manner,” she chided.

“And deny me the pleasure of seeing your surprised face?”

“You are too cruel, my Lord Marquess.”

“Only to be kind, my Lady,” he replied. “Now, shall we venture into town? Either you allow me to accompany you, or you do not go. It is entirely your choice.”

Henrietta folded her arms across her chest. “Well, apparently it is not.” She huffed out a sigh. “Very well. If you must come, then we must leave now, or else we shall be late.”

“Lead the way, My Lady.” He flashed her a grin as they exited the Old Bell, taking one of the waiting carriages into Scarborough. Henrietta remained silent throughout the journey, her mind racing with thoughts of the enigmatic Isobel, though she leant her head on Ewan’s shoulder. She did not wish him to think that their squabble was serious for, in truth, she was glad of his presence. As before, it made her feel infinitely safer.

They pulled up outside the postal office some twenty minutes later, with Ewan remaining inside the carriage whilst Henrietta moved into the alleyway. For a further fifteen minutes, she waited. Her eyes darted this way and that, looking for any sign of the woman, but it soon became clear that she was not coming.

Exasperated, she turned once more to look the length of the alleyway, in case she had missed something. A movement drew her attention—so small that it could have been a rat scuttling from its hole. However, she could not ignore it. Drawing upon her courage, she began to walk down the alley towards the far end.

Turning the corner, she found Isobel cowering behind a stack of crates, her exit blocked by a high wall. Evidently, she had been spying on Henrietta, hoping to stay undetected in her hiding place.

“It seems I have finally caught up with you, whoever you are,” Henrietta said coldly. Isobel had nowhere to run to now.

She sneered. “Not for lack of trying.”

“Why did you lie?” Henrietta asked bluntly, not wanting to waste time beating around the bush. “I felt sympathy for your condition, and it was all deceit and subterfuge. You are working for Mr. Booth, are you not? Come now, you cannot deny it.”

“And what if I am? What business is it of yours?”

“It happens to concern me a great deal,” Henrietta replied, refusing to back down from Isobel’s bitter voice.

“Why should it? Your family was the one to cast him out. I should say you deserve whatever you get.”

“At Mr. Booth’s hand?” Henrietta shook her head in despair. “I wished only to offer you kindness, and you hurled it back at me. I asked you to watch Mr. Booth, and tell me of any peculiar behavior. Why agree, if you only intended to deceive me?”

She shrugged. “I had every intention of meeting with you, until Seth told me what you had done—that you were the cause of his dismissal and our misery. You speak of lies, but you deceived me first.” Bitterness dripped from her every word. “Indeed, he said I ought to stay away from you, and arranged for me to take rooms elsewhere. He does not wish me to be associated with the likes of you, for rather obvious reasons.”

“You spoke to him of me?”

“Of course, I did. I am duty bound to him.”

Henrietta frowned. “How can you be? You are no relation to him—I know there is no sick mother, and I know you cannot be his sister, for she died when she was younger. Who are you to him? Why are you protecting him in this way?”

“Even with all your education, you can’t figure it out?” A cold laugh rasped from the back of her throat.

“I don’t know who you are, Isobel.”

Her stare hardened. “I am his wife, Lady Peterborough. For that is who you are, isn’t it—his former employer’s daughter, recently married to a grand Lord? How pleasant that must be for you, when we are barely scraping by,” she spat. “You are not my husband’s friend at all. He scoffed when I told him what you had said to me—how you had fooled me into watching his every move.”

“How can you be his wife?”

She laughed icily. “We wed in secret. It is why I told you I was his sister—it is an easier explanation in this world of cruel gossip. We have been married for almost five years, though not even your father thought to notice. We have two children to feed, and you ruined it all. You caused him to lose his employ, and now we have nothing. Lord Averson has yet to pay my husband, and until he does, we are destitute.”

“I can offer you recompense, if it is money you require.” Guilt twisted in Henrietta’s stomach. She had not meant to cause so much trouble for this woman and her children, but Seth was not entirely innocent in all of this. He was the one who had brought Aaron Oliver’s wrath down upon himself, and he had been made to endure the consequences. Henrietta could not be held responsible for that, no matter how Seth wished to punish her.

“I thought you could not sink any lower,” Isobel muttered. “Have you not done enough to my family?”

“Mr. Booth spoke out of turn. What else could he expect? I do not deserve the hatred he is bombarding me with.”

Isobel sneered. “You deserve everything you get.”

“Has he told you of what he plans to do to me?” Panic shivered through Henrietta’s words.

“Even if he had, do you think I would tell you?”

Henrietta leveled her gaze at Isobel. “And would you have me suffer for something I did not do? My father dismissed him, not I. I only wished to submit an application to become a physician, and he spurned me in front of my father. That is what caused his dismissal.”

Isobel’s expression changed for a moment. “You wished to become a physician?”

“Are you about to mock me?”

“No… I once thought to be a nurse, but my husband forbade my working as soon as we were wed. It is a noble profession, and one where we women may be as brave and fearsome as the men. I would not mock such a thing. It is, perhaps, foolish, but it is also admirable.” She paused, the cogs visibly whirring in her mind. “He told me that you put one of your pendants into his coat pocket when he was not looking and framed him for the theft.”

Henrietta shook her head. “No, it was only my wish to become a physician. He mocked me for it and was severely punished. I am sorry for how it has affected you. However, I did not expect my father to react with such volatility. You see, trying to stop my father is like trying to stop a stampede of spooked horses.”

“I suppose my husband wished his dismissal to look more unfortunate than it truly was,” Isobel mused, with a touch of sadness. “I ought to have known. He has lied enough to me in the past. Even with our arrival in Scarborough, he told me we would live in grand apartments that he had secured for us. Instead, I found myself in a hovel with two screaming children, and him gone for much of the day, if not all.”

“Isobel, I truly am sorry for you.”

The girl smiled. “Although I feel some sympathy for you, also, I will not spy on my husband for you. I cannot. It would not be worth the repercussions, if he were to discover what I was doing.”

“Then, you are not working for him? You are not his accomplice?”

“I suppose I am, in many ways, but he does not tell me why I am to do things—he simply orders me to do this and that, and gives me little detail,” she explained.

“What kinds of orders?”

She shrugged. “Retrieving letters from the postal office, purchasing objects, following people.”

“People like me?”

“Sometimes. He has not asked me of late, but last week he instructed me to trail you for a while. He told me to tell him who you were with, and what you were doing. He would not say why.”

“If he asks you to do so again, will you at least inform me?”

She nodded. “I will do that, at least.”

“Does he ever get you to send letters?”

“No, he does that himself. I cannot be trusted, apparently.”

Hm, so he must have someone else to do that for him. Perhaps, he did not think it was safe, as I had discovered the existence of his wife.

“Well, I have taken up enough of your time. I thank you for your promise,” Henrietta said, casting a glance back at the entrance of the alley. Ewan was waiting for her there.

As she turned to go, Isobel lunged forward and grabbed Henrietta by the arm. “I must tell you one more thing, before you go,” she said, in a frightened voice. “You must not ask me why I’m telling you this, but simply heed my advice. Can you do that?”

Henrietta nodded uncertainly.

Isobel’s huge eyes widened with earnestness. “Do not go to the Autumn Ball.”

“What did you say?” Henrietta gasped.

“You must not attend, under any circumstances.” Without another word, she darted past Henrietta, leaving her to stand in the alley in a state of abject terror.