A Regency Lord's Command: The Disappearing Duchess / The Mysterious Lord Marlowe. Anne Herries

little girl. ‘Back to your work.’

      ‘Please be kind to her,’ she said as the child bit the cake, her eyes opening in wonder as she tasted its sweetness. ‘I shall be back within the week.’

      It had cost Lucinda so much pain to leave her daughter here. Her heart wrenched with pity as the child glanced back at her before disappearing into the kitchen.

      ‘What work does she do?’

      ‘Anyfin’ I tell ‘er,’ the woman answered. ‘Yer’ve got one week—and then she’s gone.’

      ‘I shall be back,’ Lucinda said and left before she wept.

      She’d known even then that her trinkets would not fetch one-tenth of the woman’s demands for the child. Even had she sold the wedding gown she’d hidden, it would not have brought enough—though she believed it had cost many hundreds of guineas when Justin bought it for her.

      Had she only brought her jewels with her she might have found the money easily enough. There was not enough time to return to Avonlea and fetch the jewels or even to ask Justin for a loan. Lucinda faced the facts. She could not raise such a huge sum and so she had only one choice. She must steal the child.

      Susan had been stolen from her. She would steal her back.

      First she had to make a plan. She had hired a cottage in the next village so that the innkeeper’s wife would not become suspicious. She bought other clothes and a wig to cover the flame red of her hair and she wore a torn and dirty shawl, rubbing dirt into her cheeks. In this way she had managed to visit the inn yard without being noticed by the landlady on two occasions. She had discovered that the child was given the chore of carrying out the slops first thing in the mornings, after the guests had gone down to break their fast.

      And so today was the day. She locked up the cottage and left for the inn to claim her daughter as her own. At a quarter to the hour of nine she was in the yard watching, sheltering behind a wagon that had come to deliver hay for the stables. When she saw the child carrying her heavy pail down to the midden, she ran towards her.

      ‘Drop that and come with me,’ she instructed her. ‘I am going to take you away and look after you, my darling. That wicked woman will not punish you again.’

      ‘Will yer give me a cake?’ The child looked at her anxiously. ‘Yes, my dearest child. I will give you a cake every day. Come with me now and I shall take care of you.’

      The child stood the pail down, offered her hand and together they ran. They hadn’t stopped running until they reached the crossroads and saw the mail coach heading towards them. Lucinda knew that it stopped briefly at the crossing and she ran to it as a gentleman got down, looking up at the coachman.

      ‘Please take me to the next big town.’

      ‘We do not stop again until we reach Watford, ma’am.’

      ‘That will be perfect,’ Lucinda said and placed the last of her money into his hands. ‘The child will sit on my lap.’

      ‘You’ve given me threepence too much,’ he said and returned the coppers to her. ‘Hop in and make sure the child behaves.’

      ‘She will,’ Lucinda said and put an arm about her daughter’s thin shoulders. ‘We shall both be as quiet as mice.’

      Climbing into the coach, she pulled the child onto her lap, holding her close.

      ‘It will be all right now,’ she whispered. ‘The nasty woman will not find us and I’ll look after you. I’m your mother, you see? You were stolen from me when you were just a babe. I’d named you Angela and you are my daughter. No one will hurt you again. I promise.’

      She had brought some food for the journey and took a small sugared bun from her bundle, giving it to the child. Angela’s thin body felt warm against her as she ate contentedly and then fell asleep, her head resting against Lucinda’s breast.

      It was then that Lucinda realised she had only accomplished a part of her plan. The next phase would be more difficult. She had to find somewhere for them to live—there was no going back to that hovel of a cottage—and some way of earning her living.

      Then she would go to Justin and tell him why she’d run away.

      Tears trickled down her cheeks. She loved her husband so much and she feared he would hate her for what she’d done. Until this moment, all her thoughts had been centred on rescuing her child and it was only now that she had begun to realise the enormity of her cruelty towards the man she’d married. Afraid to tell him her secret, she had run away, leaving a simple note to say she had something she must do and would return when she could. He must have wondered why she had not confided her problem to him and he might not wish to see her.

      For the first time Lucinda realised that in abandoning her husband so abruptly she might have lost her only chance of real happiness. She had been living in a nightmare, but now she had woken to the cold dawn of reality.

      What was she going to do now?

      ‘Where was this found?’ Justin looked at the crumpled silk wedding gown, which was made of the finest materials available and had been a part of the many gifts he’d given his bride. ‘And why was it not discovered before this?’

      ‘It had been hidden behind some hay bales in a barn, your Grace,’ the man said, looking uncomfortable. ‘We looked in the barn for the young lady, sir. I swear we looked, but we did not think to move the hay because there was only the wall, or so we thought. The gown was found when the hay was used and someone saw a bit of silk sticking out.’

      ‘Yes, I understand,’ Justin said. ‘Very well. Thank you for bringing it to me.’ He took two guineas from his pocket, but the man shook his head.

      ‘I need no reward for bringing it to you, my lord. We’re all very sorry about what happened.’

      ‘Yes, thank you.’ Justin was short with the man, because he could not stand pity. His pride would not let him show his hurt to anyone. Lucinda had made a fool of him—and she’d done it deliberately. She must have hidden the gown, because if she’d been kidnapped it would not have been left behind. Besides, in all this time there had been no demand for a ransom.

      After his tenant had gone, he paced the room. His nerves were at breaking point because of the hell he had suffered since his wife disappeared. Where on earth had Lucinda gone and why had she left him? Why run away on her wedding day?

      There must be a clue somewhere.

      His mouth firming into a grim line, he turned, left the room and walked upstairs to the apartments that should have been hers. He would search the rooms himself. Something must have been overlooked.

      The rooms were empty and very neat when he entered. He began opening drawers and taking things out. Silk lingerie, stockings, gloves, scarves and handkerchiefs were tossed on to the floor. Costly gowns were pulled from the armoire and thrown carelessly onto the bed. Each chest was searched, but nothing was found. He looked at the jewel box on the dressing chest and opened it. All the jewels he’d given Lucinda were there, but he remembered that the case had a secret drawer. He pressed the button and saw that her favourite ruby brooch and also a diamond pin that her godmother had left her were gone. Giving a snarl of frustration, he knocked the case to the ground.

      ‘Damn you, Lucinda. Damn you for leaving me to this hell on earth.’

      Seeing the beautiful things scattered over the floor, he felt some remorse for his temper and bent to retrieve a lovely pearl necklace from beneath the dressing table. Something white caught at the back took his eye. It was a piece of folded paper that had fallen behind the dressing table somehow and lodged halfway down.

      He reached up to retrieve it and saw that it was a note addressed to him in Lucinda’s hand. She had written to him! He began to read eagerly.

      My dearest Avonlea,

      Forgive me, but something has happened—something so shocking and disturbing that I must