Dearest Robert. I shall come home at once if by some miracle you still wish me to, but only if you swear to me you will not withdraw your offer to sponsor him. I will not risk losing a discovery that might change the world, because of my stupid selfishness. Punish me by all means, but don’t punish him and everything that he might achieve with your support. I will forward you my address in a few days, once you have had time to consider the matter.

  I am so sorry to be such a trial to you after everything you have done for me and hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Please tell Prue not to get upset, and that I am so sorry I’ve been such a little fool.

  Minerva.

  “Oh, God,” Inigo said, remorse sweeping over him with the icy force of the north sea. “Solo warned me I’d mess this up, and he was right.”

  “Rothborn?” Bedwin queried. “What has he to do with this?”

  Inigo swallowed down the emotion tangled in his throat. “I was going to ask her to marry me before Mrs Tate discovered her at my home,” he said. He held out the little blue box he’d been clinging to as proof. “I had the ring, but… but I was too bloody afraid. Solo warned me I had to tell her why I wanted to marry her, but I…. When Mrs Tate left, I just told her I’d make it right, I never said… I never told her I wanted….” His voice shook a little and he clamped his mouth shut.

  It was a surprise to feel a reassuring hand settle upon his shoulder.

  “She can’t have gone far,” Bedwin said. “We’ll find her, and she’s promised to be in touch in a few days so I think we can assume she’s safe.”

  Inigo nodded, not the least bit reassured. “I pray you’re right, for if anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “I do understand just how you feel, you know,” Bedwin said with a wry smile. “Prue led me a merry dance before I got her to marry me. A fraught carriage ride through the dark in search of a missing lady is not a new experience.”

  “Then I can only hope your good fortune rubs off on me,” Inigo said, wishing he’d just listened to Solo when he’d had the bloody chance instead of being so damned pigheaded.

  “I’ll do all in my power to see it does.”

  Inigo nodded his thanks, too overwhelmed to speak for a moment.

  “Would the duchess know where she’d go, do you think?”

  The duke shook his head. “My wife has been feeling unwell this afternoon and must be unaware of her cousin’s flight, and I intend to keep it that way until she’s found. I won’t have her fretting herself to death, it’s bad for the baby. We can, however, speak to her friends.”

  “Miss Hunt,” Inigo said, remembering. “Miss Hunt picked her up in her carriage this afternoon. She might have gone there.”

  Bedwin nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll start. Come along, there’s no time to lose.”

  Chapter 18

  My dearest Aashini,

  Do you plan to return to London soon? I miss you dreadfully. It seems all my chicks have flown the nest, except for Helena, and we have never been especially close. I believe a duke’s daughter has little need for my particular brand of chaperonage, such as it is. Jemima seems to have embraced the life of a spinster with no regrets and no need for company and I can only admire her and wish I was strong enough to follow suit.

  If you haven’t heard already, I believe that there will be an announcement between Minerva and her Mr de Beauvoir. She caught him at last it seems or will do once he has tracked her down. The poor man was here with Bedwin last night in a fever of anxiety. I don’t believe Minerva to be in any trouble so do not worry for her. Whether or not she meant to, she has played her hand superbly and Mr de Beauvoir is so obviously besotted it was painful to see his worry. I will give you the full story if you will come and visit me. See how cruel and wretched I have become in your absence that I must blackmail you into coming to me.

  Darling Nate has invited me to stay and I will go when the baby is due if I can be a comfort or help to Alice, but I dare not go too soon. They are so blissfully happy, and I would hate myself if they ever suspected how dreadfully envious I am. How simple it seems for them to have it all.

  A home. Love. A family.

  Now Jemima has gone I am all alone and the truth is I’m frightened. I’m frightened I might do the sensible thing, and terrified I might not, but more than either of those fears I do so hate being all by myself.

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Lady Aashini Cavendish.

  26th January 1815. Mitcham Priory, Sussex.

  Inigo rapped at the front door of the ancient priory. It was an impressive stone building in the shape of a T and surrounded by a moat. The weight of history seemed to cling to the walls, giving a sense of solidity, of having always been. Inigo had always liked the place, which was strange. He preferred things to be new and modern, but there was a comfortable shabbiness to the priory that seemed to welcome visitors, which was odd as its owner was as prickly as the towering, twisted yew tree that dominated the front of the building.

  Inigo waited and rapped again, knowing how few staff Solo kept at the vast place, although it needed a veritable army to keep it in order. The man preferred solitude to order and knowing how much he prized order in all things that was saying something.

  At length, the housekeeper found her way to the front door and took him inside, showing him into Solo’s study with a promise to track down her eccentric master as quickly as she could.

  Inigo poured himself a drink, though it was barely midday, and settled himself in to wait with no expectation of seeing the man himself anytime soon. If Solo had taken himself off with a book, he’d have found somewhere he’d not be disturbed, which—in a labyrinth like Mitcham Priory—could mean he’d not be discovered until he got hungry and deigned to show himself again. Not that it mattered. Inigo could wait to hear I told you so.

  Once again, he cursed himself for a fool. If only he’d told Minerva his feelings, they could have saved all this nonsense and heartache, and his heart did ache. It was the strangest thing, and for the first time in his life he understood the idea of heartbreak. He’d always believed it a hysterical reaction to something inevitable, because the end of a love affair, whether by choice or circumstance, had to be inevitable, or so he’d believed. That a large, fleshy organ like the heart could break or shatter like glass had been incomprehensible.

  It was so strange to discover he had been so wrong. He was used to being the man with the superior mind, to being able to understand with ease concepts that the average person couldn’t fathom. Yet, all along, they’d been looking at him with a mixture of amusement and pity for not understanding that which they had known to be true. Even Harriet, whose intellect he admired, could not convince him that love existed. Yet how could he have known when he’d never seen it? It wasn’t something that was quantifiable, he couldn’t measure it or weigh it or test it over a naked flame and, when people spoke of it, he recognised nothing of what they told him. It just sounded like desire, the kind created by nature to ensure the continuation of the species.

  There had been no love in evidence in the foundling hospital, a certain amount of care perhaps from some of the adults, and friendships between the boys, but love? He’d never seen that. He’d not found it as an apprentice, nor in the hard slog to educate himself, working all hours to earn money for books, for equipment, for something that was his own. There had been only himself and his own determination to succeed. It had never occurred to him how lonely he’d been until Minerva had crashed into his life, chipping away at the wall he’d built to hide behind.

  Well, now that wall had been torn down leaving his heart exposed and vulnerable, and all too ready to shatter at the slightest impact. The duke had been as good as his word, and they’d visited all of Minerva’s circle of Peculiar Ladies, all that were in town at least, but no one knew where she was. There were suggestions she might have gone to visit Mrs Kitty Baxter in Ireland, or perhaps to Scotland to Ruth Anderson, but Inigo knew if he went haring off in one direction he’d inevitably discover she’d gone in the other, and so he could do nothing but wait and pray she would give Bedwin her address as promised.

  As soon as he discovered her address, he would take himself to her and throw himself upon her mercy. She had said she was dreadfully in love with him in that letter, and he could only pray that it was enough for her to overlook his stupidity. That she had been willing to sacrifice herself, her reputation, and her future for him had made all the emotions he’d refused to experience in the past rise inside him in a tangle so vast he felt he was drowning in them. No one had ever cared a jot for him before, and now this. It was humbling and extraordinary and he didn’t feel equal to it, but he was damn well going to try. He’d come from nothing and nowhere with no one to help him. Now he’d put the same effort into making sure that Minerva was happy and loved, and had everything he could give her.

  ***

  It was growing dark when Solo finally turned up. Inigo had been standing by the window when he saw him emerge from a narrow path that appeared to disappear behind a hedge. To his surprise, Solo seemed to be in a good mood, a slight smile at his lips so out of character that Inigo could not help but wonder what had put it there. The light was fading from the skies and dark clouds were rolling in, promising a heavy downpour and perhaps an accompanying storm.

  He turned away and walked to the fire, staring down into the flames as he waited for his friend to appear.

  “Thought I might find you here, you stupid arse,” Solo said, sounding unreasonably cheerful when he finally strode into the room.

  Inigo frowned. “Why on earth would you expect me?”

  “Because you messed things up, like I knew you would.”

  Inigo glowered and huffed but he could hardly deny it. “If that’s the extent of your help—”

  Solo waved an irritable hand to silence him. “Oh, it’s not, believe me. We will sort this out properly, and you’ll owe me a very large favour.”

  “Anything,” Inigo said at once and then stopped. “Wait, how do you know I messed things up? It only happened yesterday and…” He stared at Solo and then let out a breath. “You’ve seen her.”

  Solo nodded. “I have.”

  Inigo crossed the room wanting to shake the bloody man into telling him everything. “Where is she? Is she all right? Is she angry with me? Will she see me?”

  There was an exasperated tut and Solo rolled his eyes. “Calm down, man. She’s perfectly well, and yes, I have no doubt she’ll see you, and yes, I will send you to her presently.”

  “Now!” Inigo demanded, heading for the door. “Let’s go. I have to see her at once.”

  “Not so fast.”

  Inigo turned, incensed by the delay. “Solo, please, for the love of God, I’m dying here. Take me to her.”

  Solo’s expression softened a little. “I thought you didn’t believe in love?”

  “Don’t,” Inigo said, shaking his head.

  They both knew he’d been a fool and he’d endure all the mockery Solo wanted to give out, but not now, not tonight when everything seemed to hang in the balance. He was too raw, too brittle to take it without shattering.

  “Very well. I can see you have reconsidered.” Solo’s wry smile was gently teasing rather than mocking but Inigo still looked away. “Before I tell you where to find her, I must have your word as a gentleman that you will tell no one I led you to her.”

  “I’m not a gentleman,” Inigo replied, perplexed, before realising he’d taken it rather too literally, as always, when Solo let out an impatient breath. “But you have my word as your friend that anything you tell me will remain in confidence if you wish it.”

  “I do,” Solo replied, giving Inigo a hard look. “The lady I spoke to you about, the one with whom I have a… a private arrangement.”

  “Yes?”

  “It appears she is one of the… Strange Ladies?” he said, frowning.

  “Peculiar,” Inigo corrected. “They’re the Peculiar Ladies.”

  Solo snorted and shook his head. “Yes, those. Anyway, in short your Miss Butler is a friend of the young lady I have an understanding with. Miss Butler appeared on her doorstep yesterday evening. Your beloved is now conscious of my involvement, but has been sworn to secrecy, and I expect you to do the same. None of the other ladies are aware of our arrangement and my… friend… wishes for it to remain that way. You will respect her wishes or I’ll not give you her address.”

  “Confound you, of course I’ll respect her wishes!” Inigo exclaimed, having been pushed beyond the limits of his patience. “I’ll never speak her name again and deny all knowledge of her under pain of death if you wish, but for the love of God tell me where Minerva is!”

  Solo gave a little huff of laughter, but his eyes were warm when he next spoke. “It will be easier if I draw you a map. You must take a lantern and, for heaven’s sake, don’t go pounding the door down. They won’t be expecting you, as I couldn’t be certain you’d come here and didn’t prepare them for the possibility.”

  Inigo nodded, too eager to see Minerva to dispute anything. As Solo sat down at his desk and drew a simple map, a rumble of thunder murmured overhead.

  “I’m afraid the weather is closing in,” Solo said, looking at the dark shapes of trees thrashing back and forth in the dimming light outside the window. “Perhaps it might be best to wait until morning rather than—”

  “Give me the bloody map!” Inigo exploded, wondering how much more he had to tolerate before he could see Minerva.

  Solo sighed and went back to work.

  ***

  Inigo cursed, as many filthy, foul words as he could unearth, which was a considerable number as it turned out. Being born in the gutter had an effect on one’s vocabulary. They were satisfying now as he squinted down at the increasingly soggy scrap of paper on which Solo had drawn his map. His lady friend was a Miss Jemima Fernside, and he had bought and renovated a dilapidated cottage for her. There were other properties on the priory estate, but this one had certain advantages. Although it was not within the priory’s borders, but on the outskirts of the nearest village, it could be easily reached with discretion via a path through the priory’s gardens and a hidden entrance in the back garden. Miss Fernside could therefore, with care and some luck, keep her reputation intact, and no one would be any the wiser about her gentleman caller. That was fine in daylight. In the dark with the devil of a storm raging and rain lashing down so hard Inigo had been drowned in seconds, it was a little more challenging.

  Lifting the lantern, Inigo saw at last the large oak tree he’d been looking for and knew he was close. Hefting the sack he carried back onto his shoulder, he wondered if he’d entirely lost his mind. Solo certainly appeared to think so when Inigo had explained what he wanted. Not that he cared. All that he cared about was making Minerva agree to marry him and, if he had to make an arse of himself to do that, he was more than willing. So, he put his head down and pressed on through the howling wind and the rain, until the little glow of lamplight ahead of him confirmed he had reached the entrance to the cottage garden.

  Trying his best not to shiver, though he was bloody freezing, he made it to the front of the house. Mindful of what Solo had warned him, he knocked gently, though he wanted to break the bloody door down. Acting like a caveman would likely not help his cause, though, so he stood up straight and tried his best to look civilised and non-threatening. Going on the gasp of alarm given by the young woman who opened the door, he’d failed miserably.

  “Is Miss Butler here?” he asked, aware that he’d come out without his hat and the downpour had plastered his hair to his head. The rain dripped onto his shoulders in rivulets. “Please,” he added as the woman’s eyes grew wide and round. “I am Inigo de Beauvoir. I must see her.”

  “Inigo?”

  There was a muffled exclamation from behind Miss Fernside, and suddenly there she was. Something tight and uncomfortable that had been growing steadily since that appalling interview with Bedwin unknotted just a little at the sight of her.

  “Inigo!” the word was a squeak of surprise. “Where did you come from? How did you know…? My word, you’re soaked to the bone! Come in before you catch pneumonia.”

  Inigo shook his head and swung the sack down the floor in front of him.

  “Good heavens,” Minerva said, staring at the black sack, and at the fact he was no doubt covered in soot.

  To his relief, Miss Fernside melted away to give them some privacy.

  “I’m sorry,” Inigo said. “I’m so sorry for the mess I made of this entire situation, but I’ve never believed in romance and so the need to be romantic has never been something I’ve had the opportunity to practise.”

  “Romantic?” Minerva said doubtfully, blinking and clutching her shawl a little tighter about her shoulders.

  “Yes,” he said with an emphatic nod. “Romantic. You deserve that after… Oh, God, Minerva I wish I’d just told you the truth but every time I tried….”

  He paused as she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Despite standing under the awning of the front door, he was still dripping from head to toe, as though her very own rain cloud had come down to visit. Gloomily, he reflected it was an apt description.

  “Inigo,” she said, her tone gentle. “I’ve explained everything to Bedwin. There’s no need to marry me… truly.”

  “Yes, there is!” he shouted, making her jump, but he couldn’t hold back now. “There’s a desperate need. It’s life or death, do you hear me?”

  He grasped hold of her arms, praying she could see the anguish in his eyes.

  “W-Whatever do you mean?” she asked, paling in the flickering lamp light.

  “I mean that I’ll die if you don’t marry me,” he said, knowing this was the moment to bare his soul. It was awful and terrifying, but losing her was far, far worse. “I’m in love with you, Minerva. I didn’t realise at first because… because I didn’t recognise it. I thought it was obsession, the kind of obsession that grips me when I work, and I can’t stop until I have an answer.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26