Chapter Seven
James leaned against the desk in the library at Buckthorn House deep in thought as his hand rubbed at his chin. Two days had passed since Sarah and her family came for dinner and to tour the house and grounds, and yet it felt as though a lifetime had gone by. Sarah’s beauty, her mind, her very soul, all she had to offer, he treasured and longed to have in his life.
He had meticulously planned his return to Greystone Estate, and those plans had not played out as he had imagined. When he learned that Sarah remained unwed, and after so many years had passed since that unfortunate incident in the gardens of Greystone Estate, that perhaps their years of childhood friendship could be the basis for forgiveness. That Sarah would be ready to receive him in her home, just as her parents had, and more importantly into her life and into her arms.
So many nights while attending school and then off in India with his father’s business he had thought of the young girl who had a propensity to theatrics, had the ability to bring any story to life through her tellings, and was so full of life, the world around her only brightened with her in it. As children, she captivated him with her tales of pirates and knights, to the point that he wished he were so charming and brave.
Alas, his plans to whisk her away and ask her to spend the rest of her life with him went astray because he had rushed headlong into believing she would jump into his arms without a second thought for what had transpired so long ago, without considering that there was a chance her feelings would not be mutual. Not only did she not wish to marry him, it seemed her hatred for him was strong, all because of the actions of a boy eight years previous, actions that would be deemed normal by most standards. Boys did not have a head for romantic feelings, so they tended to show their affections in the only way they knew how. Through the physical. If he could simply explain this to her, perhaps she would see reason.
His intentions had not been to win her in a game of cards; however, when she spurned him before even allowing him the opportunity to express his feelings, he jumped at the opportunity which had presented itself. Granted it was not the most sentimental path he could have chosen, but the practicality at that moment made sense to him. Then, once they were wed, he could show her how much he had changed—with his words, with his mannerisms, and with his heart. It was his way of showing her the man he had become.
“If you would like, My Lord, I can ride to Glasgow. There is a horse merchant there who has a fine selection.” James turned to Bartholomew Staten, who had arrived some twenty minutes earlier to discuss the purchase of a pair of riding horses, one of which James planned to gift to Sarah. “The cost would be substantial, but I believe he will have exactly what you are looking for.”
The gift of a horse was not only a way to win over the woman he loved, but it would permit them an activity they could do together, just as they had done as children. He knew of her love for riding, and a new horse allowed her the opportunity to have the freedom she enjoyed. He knew, or had heard stories of, many women who spent most of their time inside looking out the window with longing to leave the mundane life behind. He could not, and would not, hold Sarah to those customs if she preferred to be free, just as was her spirit.
“Very well, if you believe that is where you will find the best mounts,” James replied. “When will you leave?”
“My plan is to go in a month’s time.” He cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “My daughter is marrying soon, and I wanted to wait until after the wedding…if that meets your approval, of course. If you would prefer, I can…”
James held up his hand. “No, a month’s time will be acceptable.” He reached into his coat pocket, and then counting out a large sum, handing the man some notes. “Take a ten-pound note from this to help with the wedding arrangements.”
Staten beamed. “You are very kind, My Lord,” he said with a bow. James was glad the man did not gush or try to kiss his hand or some other sign of gratitude that would only make them both feel uncomfortable. It was another reason he liked the man.
A knock came to the door, and James called out for the person to enter. Lundburg opened the door and stood as stoic as ever just inside the room. The family butler had always had a disciplined and straight-back stance; however, James recognized the concern that etched the man’s face. “I am sorry to interrupt, My Lord, but a letter has arrived. I was told it was an urgent matter.”
As Lundburg handed the letter to James, James nodded at Bartholomew, who gave a quick bow and then hurried out of the room. Once the man was gone, James tore open the letter and read the words that had hurriedly been written on the paper. As he absorbed the message, his heart began to sink to the pit of his stomach.
“What is it, My Lord?” Lundburg asked, undoubtedly sensing James’s alarm. “Is it the Duchess?”
“No, my mother is safe, as far as I know. It seems that Miss Crombly has gone missing.”
Lundburg gasped, the sound coming from the typically composed man seeming out of place, though James took little notice. “Missing? Do they say for how long?”
James scanned the note again. “Apparently sometime this morning, so they assume she left in the night.” Fear coursed through James with such force, he reached out to steady himself against the desk. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. He had learned from the captain of the ship on which he had traveled for his journey home that too often in situations of distress such as these, those who panicked, drowned. Well, he would not be one of those who lost his life to fear.
He scanned the letter once more, although he did not truly need to, for every word was now etched into his memory. “Lundburg,” he commanded as he counted his notes to assure himself he had plenty for travel, “have my horse saddled and see that I have several changes of clothes readied. I may be gone for some time.”
Lundburg bowed. “Yes, My Lord,” he replied and quickly went to do as his master bade.
Sarah was a carefree soul who spoke often of adventure as a child. Now she was on one of her own. Although he hoped she was safe, he knew the chances of something dreadful happening to one of her sheltered upbringing was all too real. Time was of the essence; he had to find her, and soon.
***
James stood in the drawing room of Greystone Estate, attempting to remain patient. Sarah had been gone five hours at minimum, if she left as the sun rose, and James still knew little more than what he learned after receiving Mr. Crombly’s letter. Indecision and disorganization made him uncomfortable, and the Cromblys were the embodiment of both at this moment. Mrs. Crombly sat in a high-back chair and sobbed into her hands and her husband was trying to console her while at the same time attempting to prod her for more information as to where Sarah may have gone off.
“I do not know, Thomas,” the woman cried not for the first time. “You continue asking, but I have nothing new to add. What I do know is that she is out there, completely alone, where there are scoundrels who would take advantage of her.”
“Allow me to take a moment to speak to Lord Foxworth alone,” Mr. Crombly said with a sigh. He kissed his wife on the forehead and then patted her hand. “I will send in Mary with some tea for you.” When his wife nodded, Mr. Crombly motioned to James to follow him and they headed out of the room. Once in the hall, he flagged down a nearby servant and sent her off to pass on the message about tea.
They walked to what James recognized as the library where Mr. Crombly poured them each a brandy without asking James if he wanted one, although James took it without hesitation. The liquid left a burning in his throat—a reminder of the horrible situation he had gotten everyone into. Her parents might not understand Sarah’s motives for running away, but James certainly did. She simply was hot-headed and did not wish to marry him.
“Armagnac,” Mr. Crombly said as he looked at the empty glass appreciatively. “Have you ever had it?”
James shook his head. He could not have cared less the type of brandy he was drinking, at least not at this very moment. Albeit, he did admit it was the best he ever had.
“It comes from a remote area in France. Quite expensive, I must admit, but well worth it.” His eyes lost focus for a quick moment as he stared at the glass. Then he turned, lifted his arm, and threw it violently into the empty fireplace. “All I have ever desired was to give my family the finest things in life,” he said, his voice angry. “Take that Armagnac, for example. It is the best money can buy. The furniture, the house, even the paintings, all quite expensive and brings us beauty. That girl has had everything her heart has desired, and yet, she runs off in a huff when the perfect circumstance is placed in her lap.”
“I understand, Crombly, I truly do,” James said, forcing compassion and understanding into his voice that he did not feel. At that moment, all he felt was frustration that they had no useful information as to the whereabouts of their own daughter. However, he had to remain calm to draw out what he could. “I wish her back home safely as much as you and your wife do. Rest assured I will find her and have her back here at Greystone Estate as soon as it is humanly possible.” He downed the rest of the expensive brandy and set the glass on the table. “I must be on my way if I am to find her before anything distasteful happens. However, we both know that Sarah is more than capable of taking care of herself. She is quite a resourceful woman.”
Mr. Crombly grabbed James’s arm as he turned to leave. “Thank you,” he said. He looked down at his hand, realized that he was touching a man who was now a Duke, and quickly removed it and ran it through the wisps that were left of his hair. “I honestly have no idea what came over her. She was all smiles when we were dining with you. My wife and I assumed she had accepted our agreement…”
James understood the smile Sarah had used that night, and it did not send the same message her parents received. It was the same smile the defiant girl gave when she would remove the saddle from the horse and attempt to ride bareback. Or when she would show him a book she had sneaked out to read. That was the same smile he saw at dinner when they came to visit.
“I will go now to prepare to look for her. The next time you see me, know I will return her to you as safe as when she left.”
Mr. Crombly nodded, and then James stepped out the door and hurried down the path toward the stable where his steed, Thunder, was waiting. Worry guided his steps and though he tried to remain calm on the outside, inside he was anything but. Sarah was strong and defiant, yet she did not know the world and the characters it contained. Her skills would only take her so far before trouble came.
Untying his horse, he glanced over when he heard a noise behind him. When he turned, a large woman stood staring at him, her eyes wide and her fingers white from how tightly she held a handkerchief. Mildred had not changed one bit since he was a child, and that brought a smile to his face. She had been like a second mother to Sarah, and James knew she would be worried. Something in her eyes, however, had him wondering what secret she held.
“Hello, Mildred,” he said in a soft voice. “Do you remember me?”
She nodded. “I do, My Lord. But you were just a young lad the last time I saw you.”
James chuckled. “That I was.” He glanced down at the handkerchief that threatened to cut off all circulation in her fingers. “Is there something bothering you?”
She shook her head quickly, much too quickly in James’s opinion. She knew something, and he moved cautiously so as not to scare her. “Do you know where Sarah is by chance? I am worried for her and only want to see her safely returned.”
She bit at her lip. “I believe I do,” she said, and then tears ran down her cheeks, “and I think it is all my fault.”
James placed a hand on her arm in an attempt to comfort her. What was it with women and their need for tears? “I doubt very likely that any of this is your fault. Just tell me what you know and I will show you that it is so.”
She glanced around fearfully and lowered her voice. “I fear I will lose my position and my home if I do. I do not want to end up a beggar.”
“What you tell me will be for my ears only. It will never leave my lips. You have my word as a gentleman and a Duke. If you know where she is, you must tell me.”
Mildred sniffled and rubbed her hand under her nose. “She came to me a few days ago, asking me about my life before I came here.”
James nodded in encouragement when she paused.
“I told her how I met David, my husband, when I lived in a village along the coast, a portal village. I told her all about the Horse and Plough and my life working there. Perhaps I made it sound much more romantic than it truly was. But who would have thought she would run away, let alone to a place I happened to mention?”
“And where is this Horse and Plough located?” James urged.
She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Weymouth, My Lord.”
James was familiar with Weymouth, his ships docking there when goods needed to be delivered to that area of Dorset. It was a village that had as much romanticism as a stall and offered an array of seedy pubs and seedier men who appeared to have the brains of gnats. Brainless as they might seem, however, those same men have scruples lower than the deepest depths of the ocean and would not hesitate to take advantage of a lone woman, especially one as beautiful and innocent as Sarah. She had never traveled farther than her father’s house in Cornwall, how on Earth was she to make it to Weymouth on her own?
He kept these thoughts to himself, however, in an effort to keep Mildred calm. “Thank you, Mildred. You have been a great help. And worry not; we will have Sarah back home where she belongs in no time. You know how clever she can be.”
Mildred nodded, and though worry was still etched on her face, she smiled at James. “Thank you, My Lord. Sarah is lucky to have you as the person searching for her.”
James mounted Thunder, glad he finally had a lead as to where to search for his mischievous bride-to-be.
“Am I in trouble, My Lord?” Mildred asked.
He gave her a comforting smile. “No, not at all. You have done a great service. Be proud you have helped bring her home safe.” Doubt crept on her face, so he added, “As I said, this will remain between us two. No one will know, not even Mr. and Ms. Crombly. That I swear to you.”
She smiled and bobbed an awkward curtsy. “Thank you, My Lord.”
A moment later he was off, his heels pressed into Thunder’s flanks to convey the urgency of their mission. Once they passed the gates of Greystone Estate, he pushed the horse harder toward the port-side village of Weymouth. Sarah had several hours on him, but James would catch up to her. He was sure of it.
***
Sometime later, James stopped at a creek to allow Thunder a moment of rest. As the horse drank, James, too, cupped his hands and brought the cool water to his lips. He had been riding hard, although he did not for how long, which was unlike him. He relied on his pocket watch to keep him on a strict schedule at all times, but in his haste, he had left his watch on the table beside his bed. The sun was well past its zenith, so it had to have been several hours since he left Greystone manner. It had been years since he had ridden this hard, and though his mind had plenty of memories of doing as such, his body did not seem to remember at all. As a matter of fact, it currently screamed at him in opposition.
Stretching out the stiffness in his back and legs, he walked a quick clip to bring the blood back into his aching limbs as Thunder turned to chew on a tuft of grass growing on the bank of the creek. He looked across the rolling hills and his eyes fell on a small cottage in the distance. Although it was too far away to see if anyone was outside, he found himself wondering if the people who lived there were in love and if the husband loved the wife as much as he loved Sarah.
He silently vowed that, once he found her, he would return her to her parents at Greystone Estate. Then he would tell her exactly what was on his heart. It was time he made amends for his actions all those years ago.
“What will I do if she rejects me once again?” he whispered to Thunder as if expecting the horse to give him an answer. Though the thought of her once again refusing him was terrifying, he steeled himself for it nonetheless. She had to know the truth. There were many possibilities as to how to share his feeling with her once she returned; however, before he could decide which was best, he had to find her.
“Come, Thunder,” James said as he grabbed the reins that hung down to the ground, “I need your strong legs to carry me further.” Placing his foot in the stirrup, he mounted with practiced ease. He patted the horse on the neck and then pressed his heels into the horse’s flank.
For hours he rode and though he was tiring, as was his horse, James continued to ride as the sun above him began to set. With each passing hoofbeat, he prayed silently for the light in the sky to remain just a bit longer. The hills passed by quickly, the large trees providing shade to the creatures that rested beneath them or were readying themselves for the night. The wind lifted his coat and cooled him. Dust clouds kicked up behind him, a sign of the road he had already traveled. However, a path of love for Sarah lay before him, and he urged Thunder on.