Chapter Eleven
“She’s gone.” Hawk strode into the breakfast room, startling Lord Wycliff, who put his coffee cup down with enough clatter to draw the footman’s attention.
“Calm down, man. I assume you mean Lady Elizabeth?”
“The very one. The children’s nurse was looking for her. She asked if I had seen her. When I went to her bedchamber and there was no response, I entered. All her belongings are missing.”
“The poor girl must be terrified if she ran off like that.”
“Terrified or guilty.” Hawk dragged out a chair and sat. “You do understand I must go after her? Since the only people aware of her whereabouts were a select few in the Home Office, there is a good chance it was one of them who made the attempt on her life.”
“For what purpose?”
He picked up his cup of coffee and regarded Wycliff over the rim. “I’ve given this some thought, and I’ve concluded that someone at the Home Office must have been the person working with Loverly. He felt safe once she disappeared because if she had any information damaging to him, she took it with her.”
Wycliff blew out air between his teeth. “I hadn’t thought of that. The girl could be in serious trouble.”
“Exactly.” Hawk filled his plate from the dishes on the table. “My theory is once the Home Office uncovered her location, Loverly’s cohort sent someone here to kill her before I could bring her back. Since the missive had been sent first to London, and then forwarded, they had no way of knowing I was already here.
“Do you have an idea where she might have gone? I have to find her before whoever is interested in doing away with her does.”
His cousin thought for a moment. “I have no idea. I can question Leah. She might have some information.”
“Do governesses generally befriend each other? Is there some type of gathering or organization for them? Maybe she made friends with another governess to whom she might turn.”
Wycliff shook his head. “No. In fact, we invited her to several events over the two years she’s worked for us, but she always declined.”
“No doubt afraid of someone recognizing her.”
They finished their meal in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Hawk wiped his mouth, then pushed back his chair and stood. “I am going after her, and when I find her, I will bring her to Hawkins Manor. My mother can act as chaperone while I investigate what is going on.”
He rested his hand on Wycliff’s shoulder. “I hate to depart with your governess since you are both so happy with her, but I do not believe she is safe here.”
“That is probably for the best, since whoever tampered with her saddle would not know where she’s gone.”
Hawk nodded. “I will have my man pack everything up and travel to London in my carriage, which is where anyone watching the house will expect me to go. If the carriage is being watched, Macon can take care of himself. My driver and tiger are also equipped with firearms. With your permission, I will take one of your horses and see that he is returned as soon as I find Lizzie, I mean Lady Elizabeth.”
Wycliff nodded. “I am sorry your visit was cut short. I am even more sorry that Miss Moore—rather, Lady Elizabeth—will no longer be in our employ. We were, indeed, quite satisfied with her.”
“Yes. I understand, and deeply regret that. Please give my regards and apologies to Lady Wycliff.”
Hawk spent the morning questioning every shop in the village. He had checked earlier with Lennon and determined no horses were missing, which meant Lizzie was on foot. What a risk she was taking with someone attempting to do away with her. He pushed aside the guilt at that, since right now the poor girl was probably more terrified of him than she was of some unknown assailant.
His first break came when he spoke to the owner of The Purple Cow, where he and Lizzie had shared ale a few days before. The proprietor told Hawk he’d seen a young woman, dragging two satchels, climb aboard the stagecoach that stopped at the pub twice a week. It had left several hours ago. The owner could not say for certain it was Lizzie whom he’d seen, since the woman’s face was covered with a veil, but his description of her pelisse and figure fit Lizzie, so he was quite sure it was her. Tossing the man a coin after he gave him a list of the towns the coach visited, he thanked him and mounted his horse to head after her.
Hawk switched out horses at the first inn the stagecoach had stopped and arranged for Wycliff’s horse to be delivered back to his estate.
At the second stop he ate a meal and confirmed the stagecoach had a young lady with a veil over her face on board. Feeling confident that he would have her in hand before the end of the day, he pressed on.
A few hours later, he jumped from his horse at The Boar’s Head Inn and handed it over to a young groom. “Please see about hiring a private carriage.”
“Not sure if I can get it for you today, my lord.” The boy scratched his head. “I might have one for you tomorrow.”
“Excellent. See that you do.” Hawk had been overjoyed to see the stagecoach parked right outside the inn, most likely for the dinner stop.
Not wanting to alert Lizzie that he was here and take a chance of her trying to escape again, he pulled down the brim of his hat and entered the inn.
The stagecoach passengers were all seated on a long table in the common room. Lizzie sat between an older woman and a man who was busy drinking his meal. Hawk took a seat at a small table in the corner where the lighting was dim, so he could observe Lizzie without her seeing him.
No food sat in front of Lizzie, and the man in his cups next to her kept leaning in her direction. Whatever he was saying caused Lizzie to speak to him sharply. He kept it up until Hawk could no longer ignore the situation. Hopefully, he could rescue Lizzie without causing too much attention.
Hawk walked up behind the man and clamped his hand on his shoulder. “My good man, I suggest you leave the lady alone. She does not wish your attention.”
Lizzie’s head jerked toward him. Behind the dark veil her eyes grew wide with panic. She started to rise, and he said, “Do not rise, my dear. I will take care of this piece of fustian nonsense.”
“Hey now, the gel’s traveling with me. Go find yer own woman.” The drunkard yanked his shoulder, attempting to shrug off Hawk’s hand.
“I think not.” Afraid a lengthy altercation with the man might give Lizzie leave to escape—although there really wasn’t anywhere she could run—he pulled the man up by his jacket collar and shoved him away. The drunkard stumbled and landed facedown on the floor.
Hawk gripped Lizzie’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. No one paid them any mind as he walked her to the innkeeper, who stood behind the bar, serving an ale to a customer. “A room for the night for myself and my wife, please. Also see that her belongings are unloaded from the stagecoach and sent to our room.”
…
Lizzie thought her heart would stop when she turned to see Hawk standing behind her, peering at her with those dark brown eyes. She almost considered throwing herself on the drunk man to escape, but her common sense prevailed, and she allowed Hawk to walk her over to the innkeeper.
Truth be known, she was almost happy he’d found her. Besides the difficulty of traveling with strangers, she had no idea where she was going, and how long her money would last. She was weary, hungry, and in need of a bath after the stagecoach.
She didn’t even flinch when he announced he wanted a room for him and his wife. He would not let her out of his sight now, and with it growing dark soon, they couldn’t travel back to Wycliff. Or into London if that was where he planned on dragging her.
“Certainly, my good man. I have a large chamber with a sitting room.”
“That will do. My wife will also require a bath, and dinner sent up to the room.”
Lizzie trudged up the stairs and down the corridor to a room at the end of the walkway, the innkeeper in front of her, and Hawk bringing up the rear. The innkeeper opened the door and allowed them to step in. “I will send my wife to assist your wife with her bath.”
Hawk nodded and closed the door.
Lizzie walked to the settee in front of the window in the sitting room and slumped into the soft cushions. “I suppose I am on my way to London, now.”
Hawk shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of the settee. “No.”
She looked up at him, frowning. “No? I thought you were ordered by the Home Office to bring me in.”
He sat next to her and took her hands. “Lizzie, had you waited, you would have discovered that I had plans to bring you to my estate in Suffolk. Right now, I have serious questions about the Home Office, and the tampered saddle, which I believe may be connected. I can protect you at my estate until I have this all figured out.”
Tears welled in her eyes—all the fear, weariness, and stress of the day catching up with her. “Oh.”
She lowered her head, the tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. As much as she attempted to have a dignified cry, she covered her face with her hands, and the sobs burst forth. Hawk pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head as she cried.
For her dead father. His disgrace. The stress of running, the years of hiding. The toss from the horse, the threat from the Home Office, and the horrible day of traveling on the stagecoach.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll get it all sorted out.”
His kind words only made her cry harder. But, unlike most men uncomfortable with women’s tears, Hawk did not try to escape as quickly as possible. He continued to hold her, rubbing her back and murmuring words of comfort that she could not make out.
She drew back and wiped her cheeks. “You told the innkeeper we were married. I am ruined.”
Hawk threw his head back and laughed. “My dear, you are wanted by the Home Office for questioning about treason, someone might be trying to kill you, and you are concerned about being ruined?”
Despite her worry about scandal, she had to laugh along with him. It was rather silly to be worried about ruination right now. “’Tis something that is impressed upon young ladies from the nursery.” She hiccupped.
“I understand your concerns, sweeting. However, I cannot take a chance on you running again, and have you forgotten there is someone out there who wants to harm you? You need my protection, and from the looks of the crowd in the room downstairs who heard my request, I don’t think you need to worry about a scandal erupting in London about us anytime soon.”
Hawk tipped her chin up. “I shall hire a private coach, but it won’t be available until tomorrow. I suggest you have your bath, dinner, and a good night’s sleep.”
“How far is it to your estate?” She accepted the handkerchief he handed her and blew her nose.
“About a day and a half, depending on the roads and weather.”
Lizzie sighed. The light throbbing in her head had begun to turn into something more uncomfortable. She rubbed her temples, wishing for this nightmare to be over. Her peace and contentment for the past two years had been ripped out from under her, and now she was at sixes and sevens.
A knock at the door drew their attention. Hawk rose and answered. A middle-aged woman stood there, towels over her arms. “My lord, my sons are bringing up the tub and hot water for your wife’s bath.”
Hawk stepped aside to allow the woman entrance, which was followed by four strapping youths carrying the items. Within minutes they had the tub set up and the water poured, and left the room.
After directing the young men and seeing that all was set up to her standards, the woman turned to Hawk. “When would you like your dinner sent up, my lord?”
“Give us an hour.”
The woman dipped and left the room. Hawk walked over to Lizzie and pulled her up. “As much as I would enjoy watching you in your bath, despite my reputation, I am still a gentleman.”
She nodded.
He grinned. “Unless you want me to…”
She shook her head.
He chuckled. “Very well then, I will be downstairs.” He glanced at her bosom. “Since your gown buttons in the front, I assume you don’t need help getting out of your clothes?”
“No. A governess is not assigned a lady’s maid.” She grinned, feeling relaxed for the first time since she’d left the Wycliff estate early that morning.
“Ah, yes.” Hawk kissed her on the top of her head and left the room.
Lizzie eyed the lovely bath and quickly removed her clothes. A nice long soak would do wonders for her temperament.