Page 25 of A Duke to Restore her Memory

Sebastian sighed heavily, walking quickly across the foyer in Newquay Hall and heading towards the staircase. He was bone tired, and his head was reeling – it had been a late evening on top of a long, exhausting day. He felt like nothing was ever going to be the same again.

The betrayal by Hester and Barstow. The dramatic arrest of Barstow. And then, brandy and cigars with Daniel and some other gentlemen in the library after the dinner party, trying to gather support for his business, to keep it secure and afloat amid all the turmoil.

For if I am not careful, all of my investors will sell their shares, leaving me bereft. I will be forced to sell.

He frowned, loosening his cravat, feeling like it was choking him. His frown deepened. He hadn’t been able to pin down Lord Powell this evening – the gentleman hadn’t gone to the library for brandy like the rest but had instead been whispering with Lydia, of all people, on the balcony. He had seen them together as he had walked past.

I need to wash and then try to sleep. It has been such a long day.

He hesitated on the first step of the staircase, thinking about Georgina. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her any of this yet.

He had seen her in the window of her room when he had returned after the arrest of Barstow, but then Lydia had assailed him immediately, reminding him about the dinner party.

His first instinct had been to cancel, but then he realized that a few of his investors would be present and would have heard about the day’s dramatic events by now. He needed to speak to them and reassure them that their stock was sound. The business depended upon it.

Where is she? Has she retired for the evening?

He hesitated again, torn. He wanted to speak to Georgina badly, to tell her what had happened, and to thank her profusely for telling him about the conversation she had overheard between Hester and Barstow, which had sparked all this.

But more than that, he just wanted to see her again, run his eyes over her beautiful face, and reassure himself that she was still here …

“Pardon me, Your Grace. May I speak with you?”

He spun around. It was Mrs Sollock, the housekeeper, standing there with her hands folded in front of her, her eyes large.

She looked ruffled, which was unusual for the usually staid and emotionless housekeeper. Mrs Sollock wasn’t known for dramatic outbursts.

“What is it, Mrs Sollock?” he asked, unable to keep the edge of impatience out of his voice. “Can it wait for the morning?”

“I am afraid it cannot, Your Grace,” she replied, biting her lip, wringing her hands together. She was looking very distressed now. “It is most urgent.” She took a deep, uneven breath. “Someone took Miss Georgina in a carriage, Your Grace. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Sebastian gasped. “What?”

“I happened to be looking out a window,” asserted the housekeeper, her voice unsteady, almost breaking. “I stopped because I noticed an unfamiliar carriage at the rear of the house. Her Ladyship, your sister, was there, along with Miss Georgina. A footman was holding a lantern aloft, so I could see quite clearly.”

“And?” demanded Sebastian, his heart lurching with distress. “What happened?”

The housekeeper hesitated, then said, “I watched the carriage door open. It was a gentleman. Her ladyship walked back into the house … and the gentleman grabbed Miss Georgina, pulling her into the carriage. The footman assisted him, pushing her from behind. And then they sped off into the night.”

Sebastian gasped with shock and horror. He couldn’t believe what the woman was telling him. How could it be true?

“You are telling me that Georgina has been abducted?” He stared at her hard. “And that my sister assisted this?”

Mutely, she nodded. He noticed that she had grown very pale. Mrs Sollock didn’t usually make up stories – she was known for being honest and forthright. If she said that a strange carriage had been here and a gentleman had abducted Georgina, he was inclined to believe her.

His heart skipped a beat. He needed to speak to Lydia. Right this minute.

“It is true,” said a small, calm voice behind him. “Mrs Sollock has not lied.”

He spun around. Lydia was standing there, still dressed in her evening attire, diamonds glittering in her ears. She looked composed and thoughtful. He turned back to the housekeeper.

“Thank you, Mrs Sollock,” he rapped. “You may leave us.”

The housekeeper bobbed a quick curtsey before turning on her heel and scurrying away. He turned back to Lydia, staring at his sister with hard eyes, his anger growing by the minute.

He didn’t know what was happening or had happened, but he knew that Lydia was involved in some way. She had just admitted it herself.

“What is going on?” he demanded, glaring at her. “What is Mrs Sollock talking about?”

Lydia raised her chin, taking a deep breath. “You are a fool who has been played like a harp, Sebastian,” she said in a sharp voice, her eyes glinting like steel. “That woman was pretending to have amnesia the whole time. And you fell for her act like a fish being hooked by a rod.”

Sebastian kept glaring at her. “I do not need to hear your opinion about Georgina,” he snapped, his cheeks flushing. “I am already very well aware of what you think about her. I repeat – what is going on? Did someone abduct her in a carriage or not?”

Lydia sighed heavily. “Her real name is Lady Christina Whitford,” she said in a withering voice. “She is the daughter of Viscount Draycott, who lives near Exmouth.” She took another deep breath. “And she is also the fiancée of Lord Powell – the gentleman who wishes to buy our mining business from beneath us, or at least to ruin it, so he can sweep in and pick up the pieces.”

Sebastian’s heart hit the ground, almost shattering into a million shards, like a broken mirror. His mind was spinning. He felt like he wanted to be sick.

How could she be betrothed to a man like Powell?

He took a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to think properly. But his thoughts were fragmenting beneath the shock of it all.

His sister had discovered Georgina’s true identity … and her name wasn’t Georgina at all, of course. She was a noble lady, just as he had always suspected but could never prove – the daughter of a viscount, no less.

Lady Christina Whitford. The daughter of Viscount Draycott.

He felt beads of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He had heard about Viscount Draycott, who lived near Exmouth, but he had never met the gentleman.

Exmouth was a long way away from Newquay Hall, although it was still located in Cornwall. Georgina – Lady Christina – had been riding very far out of her district that day. Very far indeed.

“How did you find out?” he said in an anguished whisper, turning to his sister. “How did you find out who she is?”

“I overheard Lord Powell talking about her at dinner,” she replied frostily. “He said he was searching for his missing fiancée. He mentioned the time frame … and I put two and two together, Sebastian.” She paused. “After dinner, I waylaid him, asking for details about the lady. He showed me a miniature portrait of her. The lady who has been staying in our guest chamber was the lady in the miniature.”

“But why would he be openly looking for her if he had planted her in our home?” He stared at his sister hard. “Why would he be showing a portrait of her to you?”

Lydia sighed, looking pained. “Because he does not need her here any longer, does he? The lady has played her part, supplying him with insider information – information she would have gleaned looking at our ledgers and milking you for information, as well.”

Sebastian flushed with mortification. He had never felt like a bigger fool in his life.

“Powell was probably in cahoots with Hester and Barstow,” she continued in a crisp voice. “Now that the plot against us has been exposed, Powell swooped down, asking about his missing fiancée, to spread the word he was looking for her and thus ‘find’ her.” She gave her brother a withering look. “Why else would he not have mentioned that she was missing before? He sat in our drawing room and never mentioned a thing about her then, did he?”

“No, he did not mention her,” he whispered, his heart pounding hard. His mouth had gone dry. “But I do not think I mentioned Georgina to him, either, and she was not here the day that he called. He did not see her.”

“He did not mention her,” she repeated, her eyes sparking furiously. “Why would a gentleman whose fiancée was missing not mention that fact to you, even in passing? Wake up, Sebastian. He planted her here to glean information about the mining business – and now that the plot has been exposed, he has taken her away. It is as simple as that, brother.”

There was a tense silence. Abruptly, Sebastian turned away, running a hand over his face. He had never felt more miserable or heart-sore in his life.

The truth about Georgina – no, Christina – was pressing on him like a vice, and no matter which way he turned, he simply couldn’t escape it.

His heart sank. Lydia was right. She had been right all along about the woman. And he had been a foolish, lovestruck imbecile who had stubbornly ignored the truth that his sister had kept insisting to him.

He supposed the ‘abduction’ of Lady Christina had been staged, along with everything else. He frowned. However, why they had gone through so much trouble was beyond him.

Powell could have just knocked on the door, claiming he had heard they were housing a missing woman and wishing to see her. Then, they could have enacted a reunion and be done with it.

“I am sorry, brother,” said Lydia with a sigh. “But you must accept the truth of it.” She stared at him. “She is gone. Forget her. And thank the Lord that the plot to ruin you entirely was foiled before it was too late.”

Sebastian nodded, not saying anything. His heart hit the ground again. What more was there to say?

Still, he felt uneasy. Was the lady a spy? Had she been deliberately planted in his house … or was there still a mystery of why he had found Lady Christina Whitford at the bottom of that mine shaft?