Chapter Fourteen
The Duke of Kelburn finally discovered Sir George Beaton in his bedchamber, where his valet was packing a trunk.
The duke was not surprised. He sat on the nearest chair and regarded his old ally sardonically. “Fleeing the field, Beaton?”
“Do you blame me?” Beaton retorted, pacing from the bed. “I’m sorry for it, your grace, but your daughter is clearly deranged and that benefits no one.”
“No, she isn’t,” Kelburn said disparagingly. “Although I can understand why you might think so. In fact, she’s being surprisingly clearheaded and a lot smarter than I ever gave her credit for. You don’t believe that farrago of nonsense about those children, do you?”
Beaton scowled. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Look. My daughter has been deceived by this fellow Alban. Or Lamont or whatever he wishes to call himself. Not that I believe he has yet wronged her in any way that might matter to you. But this story about the children is simply her weapon to stop the marriage to you.”
Beaton paused in his pacing to scowl. “A marriage of convenience is a civilized affair. A reluctant wife is more of a millstone.”
“That’s the thing, Beaton, she won’t be reluctant. Arabella has always accepted how things are and made the best of them. Once she’s married, she will be all the help to you that you require. And she will be loyal in all important matters.”
“It doesn’t matter if she won’t make her vows,” Beaton muttered.
“You must allow a father to know what’s best for her. We had an agreement, my friend. I can still make sure you get a cabinet post and the dowry we discussed, but without the marriage, clearly, you get neither. I value your support, Beaton, but I cannot trust it if you renege at this point.”
“I’m not the one who’s reneging!” Beaton exclaimed, throwing himself into the chair opposite the duke. “She is!”
Kelburn flapped one dismissive hand. “You’re being ridiculous. She’s just a woman and she will do as she is made to. Especially if you talk to her, play the honorable, rejected suitor, prepared to stand aside because of the respect and regard you have for her, despite the humiliation she’s heaped upon you, blah, blah, and so on. I guarantee she’ll look on you differently. She’ll blame me for the marriage and spend the rest of her life making it up to you for her bad behavior.”
Beaton, clearly wavering once more as Kelburn had known he would, fought a final defensive action. “If you can get her to the altar.”
“I don’t need an altar,” Kelburn snapped. “I just need both of you in the same room in front of my chaplain.”
Beaton hesitated, pulling distractedly at his lower lip. “When?”
“Now,” Kelburn said.
Beaton stared. “And the cabinet post will be a good one?”
“They very best available.”
Beaton stood. “Very well, marry us.”
The duke bore his prize back to his sisters’ sitting room, collecting Mr. Waine on the way.
“Get her out here,” he said shortly to his sisters, who looked in alarm at each other and then back to him.
“She isn’t here,” Aunt Maria said at last. “She went out. Jenson’s gone looking for her.”
Kelburn tugged his hair in fury. “Can’t you make the wretched girl sit still? Do I have to do everything myself?”
*
Bella, in fact, had left the hotel before she realized she did not know Will Conway’s exact address, only that he stayed somewhere on Harbor View. She hastened first to the harbor and saw that The Albatross was still anchored beyond the bay.
She turned to the same old man whose boat she’d borrowed on her first day in Blackhaven.
“Weather’s coming down, m’lady. Not sure you should,” he said, even before she’d asked him.
“I’m not sure I should either,” she said ruefully. She wondered how long it would take her to row out to The Albatross. And even then, she might simply discover that he wasn’t there, but at Will Conway’s. “Tell me, did you see Captain Alban come ashore this morning?”
“No, ma’am, that I didn’t.”
Which meant, surely, that he’d come early, before the old man arrived.
“Some of his men rowed in, though,” the old man offered. “Rough looking lot. Wouldn’t care to be their shipmate.”
“Were they going to meet the captain?” she asked eagerly. “Had he summoned them?”
“Couldn’t understand what they were saying, could I? Most of them are foreign.”
“Where could they have gone?” she murmured, gazing around as though expecting them to be lurking close by.
The old fisherman looked at her in clear disbelief.
“Where do sailors usually go when they come ashore?”
Home? But no, not these sailors, most of them had no home, and if they had, it wasn’t in this country.
“The tavern!” she said in sudden understanding.
“They’d start there,” the old man allowed.
She frowned. “But the captain himself wouldn’t go there, would he?”
“Would he not?”
“Ah,” Bella said. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”
Although she understood perfectly well that low taverns were no place for ladies of quality—or indeed respectable women of any kind—she regarded this as an emergency. It was already after two of the clock, and he’d promised to come before noon. Her father hadn’t scared him off. Last night at the theatre had proved that. And if he’d ridden to Roseley and discovered the children missing, would he not ride like the wind back to Blackhaven to see if they’d come to her? He would be here by now.
Unless something had happened to him. Her insides twisted with fear. Alban was not a man easily intimidated or bested. He could, she was sure, look after himself in most company. But the combination of the brutal Jenkins with the mysterious stepfather feared by the children, was a different matter entirely.
She hurried through the bustling little market and along the street to the tavern. Her hope was that she would find someone skulking outside whom she might persuade to go and look for Captain Alban or any of his crew. However, again, the luck was against her and for once no one skulked on the unsavory doorstep. Nor could she stand around here waiting for someone to appear. People would notice her and wonder. And why on earth did she care about that? She’d just blasted her own good name with tales of children and a secret marriage that no one would believe in.
Before she could lose courage, she ran up the steps and pushed her way inside.
At once, the thick air caught at her breath. Stale tobacco smoke mingled with new. The sour stench together with that of old ale and unwashed bodies assaulted her nostrils, and turned her stomach, making her gag. She could barely see a foot in front of her own face, let alone recognize those of the patrons. Worse, the sounds of talk and raucous laughter died away almost entirely, and she knew everyone must be staring at her. Her cheeks burned, but she held her head higher and began to walk further in, peering at the people around her.
“Bloody hell,” a familiar voice said, and Cairney, the coxswain, loomed out of the fog.
An instant later, a hand pushed him down by the shoulder and Dr. Gowan strode toward her.
“Bless you, ma’am, what the deuce are you doing in a place like this? Let me take you outside.”
She turned reluctantly as he drew her hand through his arm and dragged her toward the door. “Is he here?”
“No, thank God,” the doctor said grimly. “I dread to think what he’d say.” He pushed open the door and a wave of gloriously fresh sea air assailed her choked nostrils.
“Where is he?” Bella demanded. “I’m so afraid he’s in trouble…”
“There, there.” Awkwardly, the doctor patted her hand. “The captain can take care of himself better than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Yes, but if he were ambushed?” Bella persisted.
“He’s never ambushed,” Dr. Gowan said flatly. “He’s too careful. And he reacts too quickly.”
She came to a halt a few yards away from the tavern and turned to face him. “Where is he, Doctor?”
The doctor shrugged. “He rowed ashore at dawn. Said he’d be back aboard by…” The doctor glanced at a gold fob watch in his waistcoat, and frowned. “By about now, dash it. We’re all meant to be aboard, too, or be left behind. I’d better round up the men. The boat will be here for us any—”
“He isn’t aboard,” Bella exclaimed, catching his arm when he would have turned back to the tavern. “The old fisherman would have told me. Doctor, I think he’s in danger, or worse, that he’s been harmed in some way. Would the men come with me to rescue him?”
The doctor’s jaw dropped. “You want to rescue Alban? It’s we who’ll need rescuing if we turn up somewhere we aren’t meant to be. I’ve never known a man so secretive as the captain, and trust me, we all have things from our past to keep quiet!”
“No, you don’t understand,” Bella said urgently, and poured out the shortened story of children who were the captain’s kin, of the brutish Jenkins and the mysterious stepfather who scared the children so much they’d run away to her at Blackhaven. “Alban meant to ride out there early this morning, collect the children, and return to Blackhaven before noon, when he was meant to call on me.”
“He was?” the doctor said thoughtfully. Oddly, that seemed to be the part of the tale that finally convinced him of the captain’s danger. “Where exactly has he gone?”
“To Roseley,” Bella said urgently. “Cairney knows the way. So do I.”
Dr. Gowan scowled. “Some of them men can’t ride. Can we get a carriage there?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure how it will fare taking shortcuts off the road.”
“Hire four horses for riding,” the doctor instructed. “And some kind of vehicle, preferably one drawn by at least four horses. I’ll meet you at the livery stables with the men.”
*
Kate Grant had just returned to the vicarage after visiting the sick of the parish, when Lady Maria Smedley and Lady Sarah Niven were announced by the awed maid. Kate, who was rarely put out, received them civilly and ordered tea.
“Is Lady Arabella not with you?” she asked. Unexpectedly, she’d found herself liking Arabella since she’d come to Blackhaven. She suspected each of them surprised the other and was glad of the budding friendship. But the older Niven ladies had always thoroughly disapproved of Kate and she was intrigued by their visit.
“Actually, no, that’s why we’re here,” Lady Maria said bluntly. “We thought she might be with you.”
“Sadly not. I have been out all afternoon and haven’t seen her. My maid would have told me if she’d called.”
The older women exchanged glances of dismay, tinging Kate’s curiosity with unease.
“Is everything well with Lady Arabella?” she asked.
Lady Maria’s mouth opened and then, under her sister’s glare, closed again.
Kate’s unease deepened. “Ladies, I am the vicar’s wife. Even if I wished to, which I never have, I could not afford to gossip. If Lady Bella is in trouble, I would help.”
Despite her sister’s half-hearted gesture of silence, Lady Maria blurted, “We cannot find her. There was a quarrel and she left the hotel without a word. Her father wants her found immediately.”
“Of course he does,” Kate soothed, although every instinct told her there was more to this than a father’s anxiety. “How long has she been gone?”
The sisters glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. “About two hours,” Lady Sarah said.
“Then I am sure there is no cause to worry,” Kate said. She glanced from one to the other. “Er…is it possible Lady Arabella does not wish to be found?”
“More than possible,” Lady Maria said grimly. “Our servants have discovered no sign of her in any of the public places in the town. Our last hope was that she was with you.”
“Your last hope?” Kate repeated, startled. “Good God, ladies, what is it that you fear?”
“That she has gone…that she has been abducted by that encroaching Captain Alban who has filled her head with all sorts of nonsense. He wishes her ill.”
Kate tried not to blink. “I would not have said so,” she said cautiously. “On the contrary, I have observed him to show her a great deal of respect.” She aimed for tact. “Am I right in thinking you are afraid because of a certain affection forming between them?”
They both nodded curtly.
“In short, that they have eloped?”
“We are beside ourselves,” Lady Maria exclaimed, reaching for her handkerchief. “His Grace is enraged.”
Of all the Duke of Kelburn’s children, who would have thought it would be quiet, subdued Arabella who defied him? No wonder he was angry. Kate doubted he’d foreseen any such eventuality.
“I could send someone to his ship?” Kate offered. “And to Mr. Conway, with whom I believe the captain has been staying occasionally.”
“Discreetly?” Lady Sarah said anxiously. “My brother is most anxious for discretion. My niece’s reputation…”
“Of course,” Kate said, rising to pull the bell. “I quite understand how the world works.”
While the servants were dispatched, and a note carried round to Tristram in the church, the ladies drank tea in a civilized if somewhat nervous manner.
“Do you know, I think we should step around to the hotel,” Kate said, “in case she should come home and no one think to tell you. Then we’ll be overturning stones all over Blackhaven without any need.”
The Niven ladies agreed, although clearly torn between their natural gratitude for her help and their agonized desire to keep the matter in the family only.
They were almost at the hotel when Tristram, on horseback, caught up with them. He leaned down from the saddle to Kate. “Something’s is going on,” he murmured. “A crowd of Alban’s men were drinking in the tavern and all left together quite suddenly under an officer’s orders. The tavern keeper thought Alban must be about to sail, but the men didn’t return to the ship. They took the east road out of town.”
Kate frowned as her husband dismounted, summoning a boy to hold the horse. They entered the hotel just behind the Niven ladies. “Why would a group of drunken sailors walk inland?” Kate wondered. “The brothel is on the south road.”
“Lady wife,” Grant said, hand on heart as though scandalized. “What can you possibly know of that?”
“Behave yourself, Vicar, the duke is waiting to pounce.” Kate had spied the distinctive, white haired nobleman striding across the busy foyer with a servant at his heels. At one side of him scurried an attentive gentleman who might have been a secretary or a chaplain. A portly older gentleman walked at his other side.
“Well?” the duke barked at his sisters, before glancing around him somewhat belatedly for possible eavesdroppers. The reception clerk was busy with a fair, richly-dressed lady who looked vaguely familiar to Kate. An old gentleman was hobbling up the staircase with the aid of a stick. Two children and their nurse stood aside to let him pass. The duke’s fierce eyes seemed to take them all in with contempt. And then they encountered Kate and Tristram.
“Nothing yet,” Sarah said hastily in a very low voice. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Grant, who are kindly helping. Mr. Grant is the vicar of St. Andrew’s Church in Blackhaven.”
The duke scowled. “Is he, by God? I know your face, sir. And yours,” he added to Kate.
“We met many times when I was Lady Crowmore,” Kate reminded him.
“Ha.” His Grace clearly remembered something about her. “This will be the country vicar.”
“The one she threw herself away on,” Tristram said blandly. “At your service, sir,”
The duke was clearly about to dismiss them, with whatever degree of civility—or not—which he imagined they deserved, when Sarah spoke. “Mr. and Mrs. Grant know the town, Kelburn, and all its inhabitants, temporary and otherwise.”
It was a slight exaggeration, but Kate suspected nothing less would have penetrated the duke’s stubbornness. However, what the duke might have replied to the claim was never discovered, for one of the children on the stairs suddenly shouted, “Mama!” at the top of her voice.
Which for some reason acted like a sudden clap of thunder. The old gentleman on the stairs dropped his stick and the nurse spun to save him, while the child flew down the staircase. But the truly astonishing reaction was that of the smart lady at the reception desk, who suddenly turned, throwing out her arms in dramatic relief.
“Florrie! Oh, Florrie! There you are! What in the world are you doing here? Where is Leo?”
To Kate’s continued amazement, the duke laughed and turned to the older of the gentlemen beside him. “And there you have it, Beaton. Of course they were not hers!”
The nurse, having restored the stick to the old gentleman, seized the little boy, who seemed to be rooted to the spot and all but dragged him downstairs with her. The young mother, clutching her daughter to her side, flew to meet them, snatching the boy from his nurse and glaring at her.
“Who are you?”
“Molly, ma’am,” the girl whispered, clearly terrified. “The kitchen maid.”
“Kitchen maid? What in God’s name are you doing with my children?”
The duke strode forward. “I think we’d all like to know that,” he said glacially. “Madam, you will excuse the informal introduction. I am Kelburn.”
“Mrs. Radnor,” the lady said, bewildered, taking in everyone, including Kate, who’d followed the duke to accost her.
“Mrs. Radnor. I believe we need to talk somewhere more private.”
“I have no time, sir,” Mrs. Radnor said firmly. “I had meant to stay here for the night, but now I see I must take my children home to Roseley at once.”
The duke’s eyes widened. “Roseley? You are Lady Roseley?”
“I was, sir. After my husband’s death, I married Mr. Radnor.”
The duke’s gaze fell on the boy. “Then you are the new Lord Roseley. Well, well. It all begins to make sense.”
“It does?” Kate said faintly.
“Madam, we shall accompany you,” the duke said, as though bestowing a favor.
Several expressions chased each other across Mrs. Radnor’s rather beautiful face, including astonishment, annoyance, and more than a hint of fear. “Your pardon, sir, but I cannot invite—”
“Madam,” the duke said, low. “I have every reason to believe my daughter is being held in Roseley against her will.”
Mrs. Radnor flushed. “Sir, you are insulting. Come, children.” Seizing her offspring by the hands, she took one step before the nurse—or kitchen maid, whoever she was—threw herself in front of her mistress.
“Madam, please don’t take them back there,” she pleaded. “They’re frightened and it isn’t safe for—”
“Stand aside. You’ll wait here for the magistrate.”
“M-m- magistrate?” the girl whispered in horror.
“You do not abduct my children with impunity,” Mrs. Radnor said icily and sailed onward.
Interestingly, the boy, Leo pulled back. “I want Molly,” he said fiercely. “And Lady Bella.”
Of course, he was dragged onward and into the carriage Kate could see waiting outside.
“Have my carriage brought round immediately,” the duke bellowed at the fascinated clerk.
“Right away, sir,” the clerk said hurriedly.
“Do you know,” Tristram said, apparently à propos nothing in particular, “what else is on the east road out of Blackhaven? The livery stables.”
“So they are,” Kate said thoughtfully. A gaggle of rough sailors hiring horses to take them…where? Answering Alban’s call, wherever he was. And the Duke of Kelburn, for some reason, seemed to think that was Roseley. He was already on the way out of the door with his male companions while his sisters twittered about something in his ear.
“Oh, very well,” the duke said testily, “but I’ve only room for one of you. And it will be a damned squeeze!”
“Sir,” the distraught nurse tugged at Tristram’s coat tails until he faced her in surprise.
“How might I help you?” he asked kindly.
“Sir, you’re the vicar, aren’t you? Please, you must help these children. I fear for them in that house.”
“With their mother?” Kate said, astonished.
“No, ma’am. It’s their stepfather they’re afraid of. It’s why we ran away in the first place because Mrs.—that is, Lady Arabella, told us to come if we needed anything. She can’t take them there while Mr. Radnor and that Jenkins rule the roost. I don’t know what they’ll do behind her back without me to look out for them. And they’re going to clap me in prison just for doing what the captain said and looking out for them.”
“The captain?” Kate pounced. “Captain Alban?”
“So they say…”
“Do you know, Tristram, I believe I shall summon my carriage. Molly, you had best come with us and we’ll do our best to keep you out of jail! Though you might have to sit up beside my coachman. Lady Sarah, might we offer you a seat in our carriage? I believe we all wish to travel in the same direction.”