Chapter Nineteen

Tony was frantic. He could find no trace of Tisdale and Virginia. Exhausted, he finally stopped at an inn that he judged to be the farthest north that they could have reached by curricle that night. After making his customary inquiry, he tumbled into a lumpy bed and slept fitfully.

In four hours he was up again, and, following a large breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and grilled tomatoes, he was back on the road.

Where are they? Could Lady Ogletree be wrong? Has Tisdale laid a hand on her? Either way she is compromised. It is my fault! The poor lady believes herself to be accused of espionage. And she believes that I have turned against her—that I am her enemy.

If only he could have controlled his anger! Pamela had him seeing betrayal where there was none. And now he had failed to stop Tisdale.

He rode back toward London, keeping his eye out for the pair in their open curricle. When it began to rain, he reflected that it was a misery he deserved. He stopped at an inn to dry out and wait for the rain to stop.

A drunken man was bullying the innkeeper. “You’ll give me another or I’ll smash your head in!”

The innkeeper only laughed. “You? You’re a runt. I’d have you flat in a trice.”

With a shock Tony recognized Tisdale. Usually impeccably groomed, the man stood coatless, his cravat shapeless, his shirt hanging below his waistcoat. His hair was uncombed, his eyes wild.

What had he done with Virginia? Rage shot up inside him like fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night.

Tony walked over to the man, grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and landed a fist in his face. Tisdale collapsed.

As he stood over the wretch’s fallen body, Tony demanded, “What have you done with Miss Livingstone?”

Tisdale struggled into a sitting position. “Left me. She left me.”

Tony knew a spurt of hope. Reluctantly he helped the man to his feet. “What do you mean, she left you? Sober up, man.”

“Grabbed the reins. Stopped the horses.”

Clever Virginia. She knew her way around horses, he remembered. “Where did she go?”

“Disappeared.” Tisdale laughed. “Disappeared.”

“What do you mean, disappeared? You must have seen where she went!”

“Went right up to the cottage door. Took her in. Devil take them!”

Had Virginia landed on her feet? Had she found someone to help her? Gripping Tisdale by his bunched-up shirt, Tony said, “Where was this cottage?”

“Don’t remember. Outside a village. Middle of nowhere.”

Frustrated almost beyond measure, Tony let go of the man, who slumped to the floor.

At least she was free of Tisdale. He could only hope she had found herself someplace safe.

Leaving the inn, he was glad to see the rain had stopped. He couldn’t see that he had any choice now but to go back to London.

* * *

His man tut-tutted over the condition of his clothing, ordered him a bath, and prepared him a hot rum toddy. It was near evening by the time Tony called at Shipley House.

“I came to call on Miss Livingstone,” he told Stevens.

The man seemed uncomfortable. “She is not at home, my lord.”

Was she not receiving, or was she still gone?

“Lady Ogletree?” he asked.

“I will inquire whether she is receiving visitors so close to dinnertime, my lord,” he said with clear disapproval. Please wait in the small saloon.” Stevens led him into said room, which was cold and unwelcoming without a fire.

Perhaps ten minutes went by before her ladyship appeared. “Oh, Lord Strangeways! Have you just returned?”

“Yes. Is Miss Livingstone here?”

The woman raised her chin and looked down her nose. “Are you going to arrest her?”

Guilt smote him. Was that the reason Virginia had fled? “No. No. That was all a dreadful misunderstanding. We have the true culprit.”

“Very well,” the lady said. Using the candle she was holding, she lit the fire and several candelabras in the room. “She is back in London. She managed to escape from my nephew. I was right. He was attempting to abduct her and take her to Gretna.”

“May I speak to her?”

“She is not here.” For the first time, Lady Ogletree appeared unsure of herself. “I am not to tell you where she is, but her reputation is safe. She appeared at the Duchess of Ruisdell’s literary luncheon today.” The lady seated herself, and Tony followed suit.

“It was quite a stylish affair, and no doubt will be reported in The Morning Post. If anyone caught any whiff of scandal about her leaving London with George, her presence there will put it to rest.”

He thought of his fruitless search and wet ride back to London. And all the time she had been safe here, attending a literary luncheon! Miss Virginia Livingstone was an enterprising lady, indeed.

“You were there? You spoke to her?”

“Yes. I was somewhat upset to learn that she thought I had connived with my nephew. I own I did hope for a match between them—he is sadly in need of money—but I would never have countenanced an elopement.” The lady sighed. “I have not treated her well, I fear. I have sent for my husband. He will be very angry with me, but Virginia needs her uncle now. They do very well together, and, between my meddling and your accusations, she has had an abysmal time of it.”

Surprised at the lady’s repentant state but glad for Miss Livingstone’s sake, he said, “I am certain she will be happy to see him. I have apologies of my own to make to her. If I write a letter to her, will you see that she receives it?”

“Yes. And I have as yet to thank you for going after my niece so promptly. You were very obliging.”

“You were right to send me, however much I failed at my mission. I am glad your niece proved to be so enterprising.”

* * *

Upon reaching home, Tony found that his mother would be out for dinner, so he informed his butler that he would take his dinner on a tray in his library. He intended to get started on the letter to Virginia.

He had not gotten further than the salutation, however, when Daniels informed him that Lord Sutton wished to see him. Heaving a weary sigh, he told the butler to bring the unwanted guest to his library.

“Where is she?” demanded Sutton the moment he entered.

Forcing himself to be calm, Tony poured the man a whiskey and handed it to him before answering. “I assume you are referring to Miss Longhurst?”

“Don’t play the innocent with me. I know you have been out of town. Pamela is not at home. I can add two and two.” Without his normal veneer, the man was just plain ugly with his heavy brows and huge nose and mouth.

Tony poured himself a whiskey. “She has gone to Woolston Glen, I think you will find. I did not take her there. I do not intend to visit there. I have interests of my own concern that have nothing to do with you or Pamela.”

Sutton tossed back his whiskey. “Convince me.”

“I don’t need to convince you. All you have to do is go to the country and find her. I will admit that she expects me to visit her there, but it is her own assumption and none of my doing.”

“She cried off our engagement because of you, I am certain of it,” the man said, huge fists clenched and bitterness evident in his narrowed eyes.

“If she did it was her own decision and had nothing to do with my desires in the matter. As I said, I am otherwise inclined at this time.”

“Who is she, then?” Sutton stuck out his chin, and Tony dearly wanted to land a blow there. “I have not seen you with anyone.”

“The lady does not return my affections. You and I have our work cut out for us. I think both matters call for kid gloves.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony stared into the fire. “Special handling. You must not bully Pamela.”

Sutton appeared to reflect upon this. “She thinks I am a bully?”

“You can’t treat her as a possession, Sutton. She’s not a prize. She’s a woman.”

The words coming out of his mouth surprised Tony. How had he come to find himself giving his bête noire advice on the woman he had stolen from him?

The same thought must have occurred to the earl, for he said, “You truly do not want her back, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” And it felt very good to say it.

* * *

Tony’s dinner was cold by the time Sutton left, but he was more ready than ever to start his epistle to Virginia. Sharpening his quill, he thought about what he wanted to say. Once he began, the words flowed.

 

Larkspur House

London

My dear Miss Livingstone,

Can you ever forgive me for doubting you, for bullying you, for driving you away from London into such a precarious situation?

I have treated you most ill, and have no reason to expect that you will think well of me. My behavior has no excuse, except for the violence of my feelings for you. Those moments we shared under the tree in Hyde Park were the culmination of what seemed to be weeks of attraction and admiration on my part. That they were followed in such short course by false accusations can only reflect my dismay and unnatural fear that you had betrayed me.

Perhaps it will explain my actions if I tell you that I was recently betrayed by another and was therefore especially sensitive on the matter. But you yourself gave me no reason to suspect you, except perhaps for the distress that I had observed in your manner.

Now I know that the blackguard Sagethorn was imposing on you. He was no government spy but rather a mercenary seeking to further his own ends. You said you thought you recognized him. So did Commander Saunders. He was an impressed seaman on the Intrepid. The stolen papers were found in his possession, and he has been taken up by the magistrate. You have nothing to fear from me or anyone else in that regard.

I admire you tremendously for your courage and determination as well as your kindness. For my part I can only say that there exists between us strong feelings, which both delight and terrify me. Never have I thought to feel so much for another. I find that I wish to build a future with you, wherever that future may be. I cannot fathom a life without you in it.

I love you, Miss Virginia Livingstone. I want to be by your side forevermore.

Yours truly,

Anthony, Viscount Strangeways

 

Tony was relieved once he had committed his thoughts to paper. Once he had begun to write, he became convinced of the ardent nature of those feelings he felt with body and soul. What would her answer be?

Letter in hand, he walked the short distance to Shipley House and placed it in the hands of Lady Ogletree, who promised to have it delivered that night.