Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (37 page)

Where? By whom? Eleanor took control of herself and sat down. "Has anyone visited that woman's house?"

"Yes. Con and Miles went over. Madame Bellaire and her entourage left suddenly in the night. The place is in an uproar. She neglected to pay the wages."

"And Nicholas?"

"They believe he left with the French-woman."

"But that is to be expected," said Eleanor. "That was the plan."

He hesitated and then explained. "He wasn't seen leaving. Con and Miles bullied their way in and searched the place. They didn't find him, at least."

Eleanor felt an icy chill. He was talking of Nicholas's body.

"What more can be done?" she asked, her voice husky.

"Nick's plan was to put Madame on a ship in Bristol," he said with forced briskness. "We didn't think he'd escort her there after all this, but Stephen and one of Nicholas's men have gone there to make enquiries. We have people checking the London docks. We're also making enquiries on all the toll roads out of London. It's doubtless just a delay. We should know something soon."

He stayed for dinner and bullied her into eating a little. Eleanor told herself that a day's delay was nothing, particularly if Nicholas had gone to Bristol. And he doubtless had no opportunity to send a message.

She did not sleep well for expecting him to return in the night hours.

Early the next morning Lucien came round to tell her that Madame Bellaire's party appeared to have gone toward Bristol as planned, and that they could surely expect Nicholas to return late in the day, or the next at the latest. Francis had gone to check with a certain government official who was connected to the business, for he had his own people observing matters and might have more details.

"So there's no point in sitting here waiting, Eleanor," he said cheerfully. "I insist you come out with me for a drive. I've even brought around my mother's staid barouche. After such a sacrifice, you can't deny me."

It drew a smile from her. "But what if...?"

"What if Nicholas turns up? My man's here and will soon find us, for we'll just take a turn around the park. And besides, would it not serve him right to have to kick his heels?"

Eleanor gasped, then bit her lip at the immediate assent she felt. If he was safe, and he was surely safe, he had some penance to do. "I will just ring for my bonnet and shawl."

"Good girl."

* * *

Lord Middlethorpe was shown into Lord Melcham's office. "I hope the lists were all you hoped, sir."

"Indeed, yes," said the older man, rubbing his hands. "A fine job of work! I have already sent details to the other governments concerned. The whole dastardly plan is crushed. I would like to thank Mr. Delaney in person for his change of heart. I understand his wife's disappearance was not in fact concerned with this and that she is now safe?"

"That is the story given out, sir," said Francis. "It is not true. Nicholas had no change of heart. He made sure his wife and my sister were safe, and I have no idea how he also obtained the lists. We assume the abductions were a freakish start by a jealous woman."

Lord Melcham shook his head. "A lesson to him to keep away from such," he said disapprovingly, apparently forgetting the reason for Nicholas's behavior.

Lord Middlethorpe suppressed a desire to land the man a crushing facer. "Nicholas has disappeared, sir," he said tightly. "His friends are most concerned."

"Disappeared?" queried Lord Melcham blankly. "Do you fear something has gone amiss? But I have just received information that Madame Bellaire made all speed for Bristol and took ship last evening for Virginia, as planned."

"Was Nicholas with her?"

Lord Melcham took out a document. "I have not had time to read the full report." He muttered to himself as he skimmed through. "Ah! She was accompanied by a number of men, one in particular being a handsome gentleman with blond hair, who my man was told was Mr. Delaney. But instead of coming off the ship to report to my man, as arranged, he remained on when the ship sailed. It would seem," he said, looking up, "your friend had a change of heart." He winked. "A damned fascinating woman, I understand, and he's still a young man, easily swayed."

Lord Middlethorpe had never felt so violent in his life, but any action against a man old enough to be his father went against all his breeding. Fists clenched, he merely snapped a cold, "Good day to you, Lord Melcham," and stormed out of the room.

What the devil was he going to tell Eleanor?

Had Nicholas gone willingly? Lord Middlethorpe had been forced to watch his friend playing the lover most convincingly with Madame Bellaire, and now doubts began to eat at him. Could a man act so well? He was sure he could not. Was there some attraction there still, even if mired in disgust?

But what the devil was he going to tell Eleanor?

He arrived at Lauriston Street just as Eleanor was taking off her bonnet. Lucien had already left, which was perhaps as well as he was inclined to judge Nicholas harshly as it was. Eleanor was smiling, and the fresh air had brought color to her cheeks.

"News?" she asked. It took a moment for her smile to fade, for her color to fade. "Tell me, please. I would much rather know."

He took a deep breath. "According to one report, Nicholas boarded ship with Madame Bellaire for Virginia last night."

Her eyes grew enormous. "Just walked on?"

"That is what was said. I'm waiting to hear from Stephen before I believe it."

Eleanor sat down, looking like a pallid wax statue. "Do you think he loves her?" she asked.

"No." He strove to put every ounce of certainty into his voice. "Eleanor, it has always been hard for him to keep up the pretense of love with Madame Bellaire. He's spoken to me of this. I cannot believe that has changed."

Eleanor twisted a piece of linen in her fingers. At first he had thought it was a handkerchief, but now he saw, with an aching heart, it was a napkin with an old bloodstain upon it. He couldn't think what to say that wouldn't make matters worse.

Suddenly she straightened and seemed to gather her resources. "I feel better," she said to his amazement. "I have been so afraid he was dead, you see. I cannot think they would preserve his life thus far merely to dump him in the ocean."

"I suppose not," he said, though he was not so sure. He found her sudden recovery strange and rather worrying.

He went straight home and insisted that his mother allow Amy to resume her visits.

"My child was abducted from that house!" protested his mother. "I always knew disaster would come from your association with Nicholas Delaney. Amy would be safer well away."

"I assure you she is in no danger now, Mother, and Eleanor needs a friend."

The permission was reluctantly given, and Amy too was amazed by the spirits Eleanor was showing. It soon became clear to her, however, how meaningless they were.

Eleanor busied herself with nothings. Her mind skittered from subject to subject, and though she sat to meals she ate little. Amy suspected she did not sleep. Hollygirt told her that when there were no guests she sat in the study staring into space. He wished to know whether he should send for Lord Stainbridge, who was at Grattingley, even though Eleanor had rejected the suggestion.

Amy consulted Francis, who was driven to drastic measures.

He sent for his Aunt Arabella.

Thus, two weeks after Nicholas's disappearance, a tall, thin woman of indeterminate middle age strode briskly and unannounced into the study at Lauriston Street.

"Good morning. I am Arabella Hurstman. I am quite abominable because I always insist on having my own way. My nieces and nephews are terrified of me, which is why they're trying to fob me off on you. May I stay?"

Eleanor stared at the dowdy woman numbly. "Stay here?"

"I shouldn't think so. Who wants to be in London in August? We should go to the country." She began to walk around the room scanning the shelves. "Nice selection of books, though." She took one off the shelf. "Villon. Do you read old French, my dear?"

"Only with difficulty," said Eleanor, answering automatically. "They were my husband's."

"A man of discernment and intelligence," said the older lady, "and not, I think, in the past tense. What would he think to see you like this, jeopardizing the child? What were his last words to you?"

Eleanor's eyes sparked with anger at this horrible woman. "It's hard to remember," she retorted. "He was throttling me at the time."

"Then you're well rid of him, girl."

Eleanor glared, but the woman met her eyes. It was Eleanor who gave in. She sniffed back tears and thought back to that scene. She had run through it so often in her mind, trying to make it fit the facts, trying to bend the facts to fit the scene.

"Controlled and discreet," she quoted at last.

Miss Hurstman stared. "What was that supposed to mean? He was throttling you and telling you to be controlled and discreet? Didn't he even say farewell?"

Eleanor stood abruptly. "Get out of my house, madam!"

"No need to shout," said the woman, making no attempt to move. "I'm Lord Middlethorpe's Aunt Arabella, by the way. 'Controlled and discreet,' eh? Well, you are not doing as he said, are you? You look a mess, and if you're not careful, you'll lose the child. At the stage you're at it will be just as arduous as having it at term. Might as well carry it a while longer, I would have thought."

She had struck a nerve. Eleanor was aware she was not doing her best for her baby.

"Might be an inconvenience, though," mused Miss Hurstman, "when you wish to marry again. If you're a widow, that is. Perhaps you should lose it after all."

"You horrible old woman!" gasped Eleanor. "Go! Get out! I want this child!" Eleanor instinctively placed her hands over her bulging womb.

Miss Hurstman was unmoved by her anger. "Then you had best mend your ways."

She walked briskly to the bell pull and summoned Hollygirt. When he entered two voices clashed! Eleanor's ordering him to show the older woman out and Miss Hurstman's asking for a light and nourishing luncheon.

Hollygirt chose to obey the latter.

Miss Hurstman met Eleanor's glare with a thin-lipped smile. "You hate me, do you? That's good. It is at least something." She picked another book from the shelves and chuckled. "Do you read Italian?"

"No," said Eleanor sulkily.

"I thought not, or your husband wouldn't have left this around. It's most improper."

"He let me read what I wished," said Eleanor proudly.

"That's a refreshing change. Mind, I met him once or twice and he seemed a sensible young man. He wasn't afraid of me, and he could beat me at chess."

"Don't speak of him in the past tense!"

"You did," Miss Hurstman pointed out. "It's quite legitimate in my case. I haven't seen him in over two years. I hope when I see him again he'll not have lost his skill. I'd enjoy a good game."

"He's probably dead."

"Make your mind up, girl! Can't stand indecisiveness. No one's found his body, have they? I suppose that woman kidnapped him. He was probably too good in bed for his own good."

Eleanor felt herself turn red. What kind of woman was this? "But surely she couldn't..."

"Couldn't what? Kidnap him? Nothing easier. Make him bed her? Awkward, I would think. But if she made a bargain with him, who knows? Certainly not a poor old maiden lady such as I. But I do know that if he comes back, no matter what he's been up to, and finds you on your deathbed, he's going to feel jolly, ain't he? Idiot like him would probably go out and shoot himself."

Eleanor was horrified by this all-too-likely prophesy.

"Think about it, you widgeon. Don't know about the state of your marriage, but he was feeling badly about the way he'd treated you. And so I should think, silly boy! Then you admit your last meeting to have been unpleasant. If he comes back and finds you and the child in less than perfect health and happiness he'll take all the blame onto his own shoulders. Men do damned stupid things in such situations."

Eleanor had successfully avoided thinking about practical matters for days, but this irritating woman was forcing her to use her brain again. She really didn't know how she felt about Nicholas except that, against all logic, she still loved him.

"He has treated me badly, and that last scene was horrid. If he breezes back full of smiles as if nothing ever happened, I will doubtless shoot him myself!" Thought of such a scene caused a ghost of wistful amusement. At that moment Hollygirt came to announce luncheon had been laid out in the breakfast room.

"Excellent," said Miss Hurstman, "I'm famished. Well, Mrs. Delaney?"

Battered by a will that was for the moment stronger than her own, Eleanor preceded the woman to the breakfast room and sat at the table. Still, she could not summon up an appetite.

Miss Hurstman served her a plate of egg custard. "Funny sort of luncheon, but in your state... Eat it up, girl. When you have your strength back we'll go into the country."

Mechanically, Eleanor ate a spoonful. "You are a hateful, domineering woman," she said without heat.