Ludlow let him in and directed him to the parlor to wait. The
house was quiet and still in the late afternoon, and the duke wondered if Emma was near. Since it was too early to be out for the evening and too late to be making routine social calls or shopping, he assumed she was. Feeling calm for the first time that day, he called himself a bloody fool for being so smitten with a woman. Ah, but what a woman, he thought, recalling the episode in the carriage.
Perhaps he had given up too easily. Emma might not be in love with him now, but he was the Duke of Trent, not some lovesick greenhead from the middle of nowhere. He would use his skill and experience to make her love him.
These thoughts cheered him considerably, and he was imagining his success when Vinnie came him. “Miss Harlow, how lovely it is—”
“Thank God you are come,” she said, throwing
herself into his arms and sobbing. “She has disappeared!”
He grabbed her by the arms and forced her to look at him. “Emma?” he asked, trying to push down the lump of fear that was rising in his throat.
“Emma,” said Vinnie, wiping her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “Don’t worry, I will get ahold of myself, your grace, for womanly hysterics serve no good. It was just that I was so overwhelmingly
relieved
to learn you are here. You’re so dependable and resourceful, and you’d never let anything happened to Emma.”
“No, I’d never let anything happen to her. Now tell me what has occurred,” he demanded.
“I don’t know what happened to her. Ludlow saw her leave the house around one this afternoon. She went by foot and didn’t take an abigail. That was hours and hours ago, and she has yet to
return,” explained Vinnie. “Emma might be reckless and a little thoughtless, but she’s never cruel. She would never have worried us like this unless something awful had happened.” Fresh tears started to run down her cheeks. “She thinks she is invincible, Trent. She has always thought so. But she is not and just because nothing bad has ever happened to her, it doesn’t mean that it never will. Oh,
I fear the scrape she has gotten herself into this time. What if she’s hurt and lying helpless somewhere? Or what if she’s been kidnapped?”
There was no catastrophe that Vinnie could list now that the duke himself hadn’t listed hours before at the posting house. “We must stay calm and think this through. Our panicking will not help Emma. Now, where is Sarah?”
“She’s upstairs with Roger. We thought
it was best if we didn’t tell him. Although his recovery is going well, we saw no reason to tell him since he couldn’t help and might make himself sick with worry. Make
himself
sick with worry!” Vinnie laughed scornfully. “I can barely breathe I am so full of worry.”
The duke knew exactly how she felt. “All right, Vinnie, I’m going to leave—” When she would have protested, he forestalled her.
“No, let me finish. I haven’t been home yet, and it’s possible that she left word for me there.” The duke knew it was a long shot, but he couldn’t stop remembering how she’d called him her most trusted ally. On that occasion she hadn’t taken a coach or an abigail. “If she didn’t know I was out of town, then she might have been calling on me this afternoon. She has done so before.”
For the first
time in hours, Vinnie relaxed. “I don’t think she knew you were gone. I certainly didn’t tell her.”
The duke nodded abruptly and gathered his things.
“What if she hasn’t been there?”
He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Then we start asking questions. People do not disappear, Vinnie, they don’t. If she left on foot, then she probably hired a hack. I will find that hack if I have to talk to
every coachman in London. Do not fear, I will find her.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, following him into the foyer, determined not to be left behind. “
We
will find her.”
“Someone must stay here,” he said reasonably, afraid that Emma’s sister would slow him down. “What if she comes back?”
“Sarah is here.” She put on her pelisse and gloves. “I’m going.
“Very well,” he conceded because he
didn’t have time to argue. “Ludlow, tell Mrs. Harlow that Miss Harlow has gone for a drive with Lord Trent.”
The drive to Trent’s house was tense and quiet, both of the carriage’s occupants wrapped up in their separate thoughts. Now that she had calmed down enough to think clearly, Vinnie wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her to turn to Sir Waldo in her time of need. He was her fiancé, the man
she had committed herself to for life. She didn’t see him in a heroic way, of course, but he was steadfast and dependable. Weren’t those two of his most valued traits, as he reminded her frequently? She could just hear the speech now. “Steadfast and dependable, Miss Harlow, that’s what makes a successful politician. That and a wife who is also steadfast and dependable. A political life is not an
easy one, and only we who are steadfast and dependable are suited to it.”
He does repeat himself an awful lot, doesn’t he?
she thought, not for the first time. She’d been having lots of thoughts in the same vein about Sir Waldo and began to fear for the future of their relationship. The happy flush of romance was gone, leaving Vinnie with the awful feeling that she had made a terrible mistake.
She now recognized his easygoing conversational style, which had first attracted her, for what it was: repetitive speeches about himself. She realized that the good work he wished to do was not for the benefit of the world but for himself. He did not see a wife as an equal; he saw her as an appendage—a not too pretty, not too ugly appendage. She was starting to suspect that he was intimidated by
her brain power. Not only did he not want her to pursue interest outside of his, but he also did not want her to have original ideas. Original ideas seemed to frighten him, which only amused Vinnie and convinced her that they were not well suited. Surely a wife should not mock her husband.
But it was not only because of Sir Waldo that Vinnie was reconsidering. The last few weeks had been a revelation
to her. She now realized that she had something to say that even the most glittering member of the
ton
was interested in, and she had the Duke of Trent to thank for that. He had made her realize that her ideas were good and worth listening to. Although their initial interaction had been sparked by Emma’s devious scheme, their friendship had developed on its own. She now counted him among her favorite
people.
The carriage pulled up to the duke’s town house, and she was forced to cease her woolgathering. The duke helped her down and escorted her to the door. Although his return was unexpected, Caruthers greeted him with news of a visitor.
“Your grace, there is a…uh-hem…gentleman waiting to see you in the parlor, by the name of Squibbs. I told him you were away from home, but he insisted on
waiting.”
“Good job, Caruthers,” the duke said, smiling. “Just the man I wanted to see.” He took Vinnie’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Mr. Squibbs is an associate of your sister’s. Good or bad, he’ll know something.”
Mr. Squibbs stood when he heard the door opening, and as soon as he saw Miss Harlow, he said defensively, “Now, miss, don’t get angry at me. I told you I’d send word. I made
a promise.”
The duke approached the large, tall man with his arm extended and a wide smile on his face. “Don’t worry, Squibbs, this is the other Miss Harlow. They are twins, you see.”
“You mean there are two of them?” he asked, appalled by the very idea.
“Not quite,” answered Vinnie. “We are alike only on the surface.”
“What she means to say,” explained the duke, “is that she doesn’t go down
to the docks to learn how to crack safes.” At Vinnie’s astonished look, Trent said, “I’ll fill you in later. In the meantime, meet Mr. Archibald Squibb. He is, as I said, an associate of your sister’s. I made his acquaintance little more than a week ago, and at that time, he promised to let me know if your sister visited the docks again. I can only assume that his presence means she has. Have faith,
Vinnie, we are about to learn what happened to Emma.”
“She was at the docks again but alone this time. She didn’t bring that hulking giant with her.”
“Hulking giant?” asked Lavinia.
The duke flashed her a quick look. “Sylvester.”
“Ah.”
“Like I said, she came down alone. I think it was an unplanned visit, because she didn’t have her pistol on her, and when one of the men grabbed her, she had
to use the knife on the table to free herself.”
“One of the men grabbed her?” the duke said in a deceptively calm voice.
Squibbs was not fooled. “Yeah, he did, but she handled herself like a regular goer. She had a knife at his throat quicker than you could say Johnny Jacksaw. I was damn proud of the lass. But anyway, she was there following a man and soon as the trouble was over, we went upstairs
to find him. He and a confederate were in a room talking so I gave her one of my special listening devices and she eavesdropped on the conversation. I don’t know what they were talking about but whatever it was, it got her all riled up. And when the man came out suddenly, she ki— She hid. Then she waited for him to leave and got back into her hired cab.”
“Is that all? Think, man, did she say
anything at all that revealed her plan?”
“Nothing, your grace. She thanked me and said that England thanked me, which made no sense. Then she was off. I came straight here to tell you. The man at the door tried to convince me you was out of town, but I knew better. Archibald Squibbs isn’t taken in so easily.”
“Thank God,” said the duke, thinking that Archibald Squibbs would be rewarded handsomely
for his tenacity.
“This man she was following,” said Lavinia. “Did you get a look at him?”
Squibbs nodded. “Medium height, round build, mole on his cheek.”
“Beady eyes? Impossibly small lips?” she added.
“Yes, never seen a blighter with lips that small. How does he eat?”
She looked at Trent. “Sounds like Sir Waldo. It would make sense. She’s convinced he’s a villain.”
Perhaps he is, thought
the duke, recollecting Emma’s thanks on behalf of the country. Could it be? “Are you positive she said nothing else—a destination perhaps? When she was listening at the door, did she say anything? Did she tell you what the conversation was about?”
“No, she didn’t say— Wait, she muttered something when she was listening. What was it?” Squibbs closed his eyes and concentrated. It had sounded like
clover. “She might have said Dover, your grace.”
“Dover,” he repeated, trying to make sense of this riddle. If what he suspected was true, then Dover would fit. But the idea was almost too ridiculous to consider. Sir Waldo Windbag a French spy? Trent tried to imagine the little round man conspiring against England, but the image was too amusing and he smiled. No, if anyone was up to no good it
was Emma, who had come to the outrageous conclusion because she wanted to. Surely she had misunderstood what she heard from a willingness to believe the worst of her sister’s fiancé. He had to admit that French spy was pretty good. If the man were rotting in Newgate then he would not be able to marry her sister.
“Dover?” said Lavinia. “Trent, what is she about?”
Trent decided to keep his thoughts
about Windbourne to himself. “I think your sister is on the road to Dover.”
“But how? She did not take the carriage. The horses are all in the stable. Oh, vexing girl. I bet she took the public stage or even went by post. She does like to travel by hack. Do you think she hired one to take—”
“No, my dear. No London hack would take one to Dover. She must have gone by stage.” He returned his attention
to Mr. Squibbs, who was nodding in agreement with this statement.
“Ye are right, your grace. She probably took the stage.”
“Mr. Squibbs,” the duke said, extracting a pile of notes from his purse, “do let me reimburse you for your trouble.”
“No trouble, milord, but thank ye anyway.”
“Well then, let me reward you for your help. Miss Harlow here was frantic with worry until moments ago. Surely
that’s worth something.” He tried to hand over the money again.
“No reward is necessary. I’m as concerned about the lass as ye are and don’t want to see ’er come to harm.” Mr. Squibbs placed his hat on his head and bowed to the duke. “She’s a spirited one, milord, and ye must keep a close eye on ’er if ye want to keep ’er safe.”
The duke did not need a safecracker from the East End to tell him
that. “You say that as if it’s an easy thing, Squibbs. You have no idea what a challenge it is.”
Squibbs bowed. “I suspect ye are up to it, milord duke, I suspect ye are up to it.”
The duke accepted the praise without further comment. He suspected he was up to it as well, but it would mean nothing if he didn’t acquire the right to keep her safe. Emma was not yet his. Indeed, it was only a few
days ago that he’d tried to resign himself to the fact that she never would be. Recent events had changed his thinking drastically.
Vinnie regarded the tall, large man who was her sister’s associate. He was a frightening man to behold, with a large bluish yellow bruise on his left cheek, but it had not taken two minutes for her to realize he was a gentle giant. No wonder her sister had turned
to him for advice on how to crack a safe. That part made sense. It was why her sister needed to crack a safe in the first place that continued to baffle her. Realizing that Mr. Squibbs visit had saved them hours of possibly fruitless searching, she thanked him profoundly for his help with a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.