Chapter Ten
Lizzie’s heart pounded at the look on Lord Hawkins’s face. He gave the impression of using all his control to keep from lashing out at her.
“I can’t believe I’ve spent a week with Lord Loverly’s daughter and didn’t realize it. What do you have to say for yourself, Lady Elizabeth?”
Lizzie took a quick peek at Lord Wycliff, who sat with his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Oh, lord, there went her employment. “I don’t know what you expect, my lord. What is it you wish me to say?” Perhaps that was an understated question, but one did have to start somewhere when one’s brain was muddled.
Hawkins ran his fingers through his hair and turned to Wycliff. “May I have a few moments alone with Lady Elizabeth? There are sensitive government matters we need to discuss.”
His request cut through Lord Wycliff’s shock. Her employer shook his head, as if coming out of a dream, and stood. “Of course. I will be in my library.” He glanced in her direction—more questions on his face than condemnation—bowed and left the room, taking the footman with him. He closed the door gently, but the tension in the room caused Lizzie to jump when the latch snapped, as if he’d fired a pistol.
Lizzie had almost begged Lord Wycliff not to leave her with the ferocious-looking Lord Hawkins. Although she had no worries that he would physically harm her, he did look angry enough to make her wish to disappear.
Hawkins studied her for a minute, but she refused to fidget under his regard and remained still, her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast.
“Lizzie, look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes and wished she hadn’t. The anger radiating from him, along with the letter fisted in his hand, deflated the little bit of courage she’d managed to dredge up. “Yes, my lord?”
“I assume from Wycliff’s reaction that no one in this household knows your true identity?”
“That would be a correct assumption, my lord.”
“And you saw nothing wrong with pretending to be someone else? Not allowing these generous people to know they were harboring a wanted woman?”
Lizzie squirmed in her seat. Yes, Lord Hawkins had managed to reduce her to a fidgeting bundle of nerves. “I did nothing wrong, my lord. To my knowledge, when I accepted the position I was not a wanted woman. I told the authorities when they first questioned me that I knew nothing of my father’s affairs.” She took a deep breath. “Since my Season was effectively over, I thought it would be in my best interest to disappear.”
Hawkins pushed back his chair and stood, startling her even more. He began to pace, the letter still clenched in his hand. “This letter was forwarded to me from my London townhome. It is from the Home Secretary. The message says the Home Office has discovered that Lady Elizabeth Munro, daughter of the late Earl of Loverly, has taken up employment in my cousin’s home.
“The missive asks me to travel to Wycliff Estates and bring Lady Elizabeth back to London to be questioned by the Home Office.”
Lizzie jumped from her seat and headed for the door. She had to get out of here. The authorities had not believed her the first time, and after her disappearance they would never believe her. The thought of spending even one night in Newgate scared her enough that she considered running again.
She made it to the exit just as Hawk’s hand slapped the door before she could open it. “Do not attempt to leave.”
Panic and anger overwhelmed her at his icy tone. “You don’t understand, my lord. They will throw me into prison.”
He turned to block the door and pointed to her chair. “Sit.”
With shaky legs, she returned to her seat. Gone was the flirting, rakish earl she’d come to know over the past week. In his place was a terrifying officer of the Crown.
Hawkins drew up the chair alongside her and sat. He took her ice-cold hands in his warm ones. “First of all, they will not put you into prison. That is, unless you conspired with your father.”
She drew back, her eyes wide. “No. No. No. No.” She shook her head, and the tears welled in her eyes.
“Lizzie, I would have the absolute truth from you.” He spoke softly, but his tone was hard. This was not the friendly man who had taken her to the village, or who had carried her home after she was thrown from Magpie. This man was not going to be swayed by tears and female swooning.
“I knew nothing about it until right before he was caught.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped speaking. She lowered her head, her chin quivering. If she did not calm herself, it would only make things worse.
Hawkins dipped his head so he could see her eyes. “I will not bring you to London until I am sure there is something you know that might help their investigation. Treason is a very serious crime, as you are well aware, and if there were other people involved in your father’s activities, it is very important for the Crown to pursue this.”
Lizzie pulled free from Hawkins and swiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I assure you, my lord. I know nothing. The night my father fled England was the first time I learned anything about this.
“There were whispers at a few balls I had attended earlier that week, but nothing that made me believe it had anything to do with my father.
“How is it—” She cleared her throat since the words came out a squeak. “How is it they found me?”
Hawk stood and rested his hands on his hips. “If the Home Office has any reason to believe a traitor has not been identified, no matter how long ago the crime, they will continue their investigation.”
Lizzie nodded and took a deep breath, dreading the answer she might receive. “What will you do now, my lord?” She looked up at him, at his rock-hard chin, tightened lips, and piercing deep brown eyes.
“For the present, nothing.”
She would have breathed a sigh of relief if she truly thought nothing would come of this. But she had no expectations that Lord Hawkins cared one whit about what happened to her. “I see.”
“You do realize this presents new questions as to why your saddle was tampered with.”
“Why? No one knows who I am. Well, no one until that letter arrived.” She gestured with her head toward the missive still in his hand.
“We cannot be sure about that. Are you certain you know nothing about your father’s activities? Anything he might have mentioned that you didn’t think much of at the time? Any letters or missives he attempted to hide from you? Names he might have mentioned that you had not heard before?”
Lizzie thought back to the time it had all happened. Until the night her father had told her what he’d done and the reason why, she had lived in a rose-colored world. All her time and attention had been taken up with balls, parties, gowns, and slippers. Foolish girl that she’d been.
What had hurt the most was when she’d demanded to know why he’d done such a thing and he had finally admitted he was penniless, and the money he’d received for selling secrets had paid for her Season.
She had been mortified and had been plagued with guilt ever since.
“Nothing I can think of, but you must understand, I had no reason to believe anything nefarious was going on.”
He continued to stare at her until she was shifting in her seat again.
“Very well.”
She stood, hoping her legs would hold her up. But she had to leave the room before she either screamed or burst into hysterical tears. She rubbed her forehead where her headache had returned with a vengeance. “I have duties to attend to, my lord. May I be excused?”
He gave her a curt nod. “Since I have been charged by the Home Secretary with returning you to London, I must insist you remain in the house until I determine what is to be done.”
Gathering her skirts about her, she nodded and swept past him. Once she was on the other side of the breakfast room door, she leaned against it and took a deep breath. She fought to keep her breakfast down. Dear Lord, what do I do now?
She hurried past the library, not wishing to engage in conversation with Lord Wycliff. What she really did not want to hear was that her employment had come to an end.
After a quick wash to her face and hands, hoping it would help calm her nerves, she made her way to the nursery to lose her mind in dealing with the children.
When Lizzie entered the drawing room in anticipation of dinner, Lord Hawkins and Lord Wycliff were engaged in a deep conversation that ceased the moment they spotted her. They both bowed in her direction. “Good evening, my lady.”
Well. So, they were acknowledging her title. All the fear and questions she’d managed to put aside while she dealt with reading, arithmetic, history, and geography now rose to the forefront. This was the first time she was in the company of Lord and Lady Wycliff since Hawkins had received his letter.
“Good evening, my lords, my lady.” She dipped her usual curtsy.
Lady Wycliff patted the seat next to her. “Join me, Lizzie.”
Her stomach muscles tightened as she made her way across the room. She had barely settled in the settee when Lord Hawkins handed her a glass of sherry that she had not asked for. Did he know there was something afoot that she need brace herself with liquor? “Thank you.”
He nodded and returned to Lord Wycliff.
“Needless to say, I was quite taken back when Lord Hawkins revealed your background.” Lady Wycliff’s demeanor revealed nothing of her thoughts.
Oh, lord. Here it comes. “I am sorry, but you do understand we must dismiss you?”
She might as well go down fighting. “I am sorry for the subterfuge, my lady. I had nowhere to turn once my father left England, and Lady Franklin was good enough to help me out. Please do not hold her responsible. She was merely doing me a favor.”
Lady Wycliff took a sip of her sherry. “His lordship and I have not decided what to do yet. Lord Hawkins tells us he is corresponding with the Home Office to gather more information.” She patted Lizzie’s hand. “You are, of course, welcome to continue with your work, if you so desire.”
Relief flooded her. “Oh, indeed, I do, my lady.”
Lady Wycliff nodded. “Then we will see what happens over the next few days. I believe Lord Hawkins sent his missive to the Home Secretary by special carrier.”
Lizzie’s stomach sunk. What would the Home Office tell him? Would they insist he honor their demand and drag her back to London? He’d said he would not allow her to go to prison, but he obviously had superiors at the Home Office who might order him to do so.
“Thank you, my lady.”
Smith entered and announced dinner. Lord Hawkins extended his elbow to Lizzie. “My lady.”
It was rather odd being addressed as “lady” after two years of simply “Miss Moore.”
She was on tenterhooks throughout the meal. She remained quiet, allowing those around her to converse. Several times she looked up at Lord Hawkins to find him studying her, his expression bland. The man would make a great spy. But then again, perhaps he was.
Once dinner had ended the four of them strolled to the drawing room. Instead of taking her usual seat, she addressed Lady Wycliff. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I would prefer an early evening.”
“Yes, of course.” She smiled brightly at her, easing some of the tension in Lizzie’s body.
Not enough of a release, though.
Lizzie climbed the stairs to her bedchamber and pulled out her satchel from underneath the bed. She gathered the clothes from her armoire and drawers and swept the bottles and jars from the top of her dressing table into a smaller bag.
With a heavy heart, she pinned the money she had saved into the bodice of her dress and pulled on her pelisse. She sat very still and studied the small pink and white china clock on the dresser across the room. Once the clock struck one o’clock in the morning, and she’d not heard any voices or noises from the rest of the house for some time, she stood and picked up her satchels.
Quietly, she made her way down the stairs, avoiding the front door, where one of the footmen stood. The corridor past the kitchens brought her to the back door. Quietly, she released the latch and stepped out into the night air.