Page 11 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

Perhaps a book might keep her busy, but just as she stood to peruse the shelves, the door opened and Rockwell strode in and threw his gloves on the table.

“Well, the meeting with the grain merchant only led to more confusion. I showed him the small painting I have of Lucien and he thought it looked like a man who lived in a small village north of Dublin, Malahide. But he wasn’t sure, as the man had a thick beard. ”

“So not all bad news.”

Rockwell sunk into the chair and rubbed his head. “But he was sure the man had a little girl with him—a daughter, he thinks.”

“Oh, that can’t be him then.” She sat watching his inner turmoil. “But you want to check?”

“This man is the first person to show any sign of recognition. I can’t ignore that.”

Farah eyed him and finally plucked up the courage to ask, “Why is finding Lord Furoe so important to you?”

“Because they never found his body. His grave lies empty. His father and his sisters had no one to mourn. When I thought I’d seen him…

Perhaps he’s not dead.” He looked at her, his eyes full of anguish.

“He was my best friend. He and I were supposed to go off on an adventure, but he signed up to help in the Irish Rebellion. Did you know his mother was Irish and he spoke Gaelic well? He thought he could stop them before anyone was hurt.” Rockwell gave a harsh laugh. “That didn’t turn out as he planned.”

“So, you were friends? But he was engaged to Courtney, so I doubt he’d go traveling with you.” She wanted to learn what made Rockwell need to keep adventuring.

It was as if she were no longer in the room.

“The last words we spoke to each other were harsh. I was angry he wouldn’t come with me as planned because he’d fallen in love with Courtney.

I told him to go off and get himself killed then…

and when he was…” He looked up at her with anguish deep in his eyes.

“It’s as if I cursed him. He got angry with me and my selfishness, and I think he took the commission to spite me.

It’s my fault he came here to fight. It’s my fault he died.

Now all I have of him is the locket his sister gave me, something of his to remind me of him. ”

She moved and crouched at his feet, taking his hand. “It most definitely is not your fault. You were young and headstrong, as was he. He should have thought about Courtney and his family before haring off.”

He smiled down at her. “I suppose we were. We both thought we were invincible.”

She rose, letting go of his hand, and tried to ignore the tingle of sparks racing up her arm at the contact. “At least I now understand why finding him is an obsession with you.”

“He’d do it for me. If he thought I were dead and then he saw me, he’d keep looking.”

“Well, we have only just started our search. Let’s crack on and see if we can find out more information. I’d like to come with you to this little village the grain merchant mentioned. Can we get there and back in one day?”

“Probably not there and back. I was thinking of leaving you in Dublin as there is an inn in the village, but it’s very basic.”

“I’m sure I can survive basic. Besides, I’ve never been to Ireland, and I’d love to see some of it. And if it is Lucien, then I want to be there when we find him.”

Rockwell nodded. “It’s probably best that I don’t let you out of my sight, anyway. We’ll go in a few days.” He nodded his head to the window. “A storm’s passing through. We’ll wait for the roads to dry out.”

She could tell that he wasn’t happy to wait for the weather to clear any more than she was, and that he was only waiting because of her. Guilt fell heavily on her shoulders. “You could go without me. I swear to stay in the tavern.”

He sat in silence for a moment. He stood.

“No. We go together. Anyway, I’ve come to escort you to the dressmakers.

Questions will be asked if you’re seen with no luggage or change of clothes.

” He watched as she donned her bonnet and cape, since it was drizzling.

“Once you’ve selected your materials, I’m sure the dressmaker won’t mind coming here for fittings.

We need to get as much as possible done over the next few days before we head out of Dublin. ”

*

Rockwell hailed a hackney, and she hurried into the protection of the carriage. “You don’t need to stay with me,” she said. “You could do more investigations and collect me in a few hours.”

He wanted to do just that. But he worried about leaving her alone in a city where she knew no one and didn’t have anyone to call on for help.

She was his responsibility. It would do no good to find Lucien but lose her.

So, he simply nodded. He’d have to leave her at some stage to visit with the ladies of the night, so to speak.

But he’d do that while she was tucked up in her bed with the door locked.

Perhaps he should call on his friends, Simon and Bridget Boyle.

He’d met Simon in the Caribbean on one of his trips.

Simon’s father, Baron Boyle, owned a plantation and Simon had been to check on his father’s holding.

They’d stayed in touch and Rockwell had stayed with the couple when he’d come to get Tiffany’s money back.

He’d feel relieved leaving Farah with them.

The couple had never met Ashley, so that should work, but Farah might get tripped up.

He couldn’t remember how much he’d shared with Simon about his sisters.

They would look after her, but it was a lot to ask of new acquaintances, and would she agree?

Perhaps they could pay the Boyles a call on the way back to the tavern from Malahide.

The rain was heavier, and luckily the hackney could stop directly outside the dressmakers. He helped Farah down, and they both rushed for the door. He flung it open and stood back for her to pass. As soon as he entered, he heard a cry of delight.

“Lord Ware? How wonderful to see you! I didn’t realize you were back in Dublin.” The woman paused. “And with company.”

“Good day, Mrs. Ahearn. I’ve only just arrived with my sister, Lady Ashley Ware. One of my ship’s crew dropped one of Ashley’s trunks in the water as we disembarked and she’s in need of replacements.”

Blast . He would have to run into the widow he’d enjoyed a tryst with while in Dublin recently. She’d gotten clingy back then. Her frown had turned into a seductive smile when he mentioned his sister, while Farah’s eyebrow had risen in a knowing smirk.

“Your sister, you say. How lovely.” And Mrs. Ahearn turned to Farah.

“You must let me help you, my dear. Orla Clearbrook and I can take care of this.” Mrs. Ahearn nodded in the dressmaker’s direction.

“Orla is very experienced. You’ll be in expert hands, Lady Ashley.

Your brother must have more important things to do than chaperon your shopping expedition.

” She waved her hand at Rockwell. “Off you go, Rockwell. I’ll see your sister safely back to… ?”

“Twin Heads Inn,” Farah piped up with a smile that said, I’m going to have fun .

“There you go. I know where that is, don’t I?” Mrs. Ahearn—Fiona—winked at him. He gritted his teeth as Farah tried to hide a giggle with a cough.

He could use the time to visit the unsavory areas that Farah suggested. There were a couple of gentlemen’s clubs nearby he could visit. “That would be very kind, if it’s all right with Ashley.” It took Farah a moment to realize he was addressing her.

“Oh, yes. That would be lovely. Mrs. Ahearn—”

“Call me Fiona, my dear.”

“Fiona might like to join us for dinner too,” Farah added as she noted his embarrassment.

“Of course.” He flashed Fiona a smile through gritted teeth. “I shall leave you ladies. Enjoy your day.”

“I’m sure I will,” Farah added as he took his leave out into the horrid weather.

He didn’t need to hail a hackney. The first of the gentlemen’s clubs he wished to visit, a more upmarket establishment, was around the corner. This was the more fashionable area in Dublin. That was how he knew the dressmaker was here. He’d passed it many times on his way to the club.

Kevin the doorman greeted him like a returning friend. “Lord Ware. How nice to see you so soon again. I thought you’d returned to England.”

He took off his hat and shook the water off it, handing it to Kevin.

“I’m back in Dublin to find a friend.” He fished out of his pocket the painting he had of Lucien.

It was over five years out of date and no doubt, if his friend were alive, he would have matured somewhat.

Certainly the man he’d spied in the tavern had been bigger and wider. “Have you ever seen this man in here?”

Kevin took the small portrait and studied it. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, m’lord. Are you sure he’s a member?”

This high-class club was a member-only place. Rockwell couldn’t imagine Furoe, if he were alive, not being a member here. “Do you think I could talk to the ladies and see if any of them recognize my friend?”

“Lord Ware, you’re back so soon?” Down the stairs glided one of the most stunning women he’d had the pleasure of meeting. Mrs. O’Rourke owned the club, but that was all. She did not provide services to her male members unless she wanted pleasure for herself.

He bowed over her hand and kissed her knuckles. “As beautiful as ever, Maeve. You always take my breath away.”

“And you, my lord, are still a smooth talker.” But her smile showed she was pleased with his observation. “Are you after male company in the card room this early or other entertainments?”

“Neither.” He handed her the image.

“And who’s this handsome gentleman?”

“He’s my friend. He went missing a few years ago and is believed to be dead, but I thought I saw him in Dublin when I was last here.”

She nodded her head. “He reminds me of a young man that was brought in here after the uprising a few years ago. He had a terrible head injury.” She peered closer at the picture. “It could be him.”

Rockwell could barely contain his excitement. “What happened to him?”

She turned to Kevin. “Didn’t Ava nurse him?”

Kevin nodded. “Aye, I think she did. I remember she nursed him for over a month.”

“Is Ava here? Can I talk to her?”

The smile on Maeve’s face dimmed. “Ava left us almost five years ago to go home to her family. This life wasn’t for her.” She tapped a finger to her lips before adding, “But I think this man went with her.”

“Went where?” Rockwell asked hopefully.

“Malahide,” Kevin answered. “Young Ava came from north of Dublin. Not far, about ten miles up the coast.”

Malahide! The same place the grain merchant mentioned. Rockwell could kiss him. “Thank you, Kevin. That’s most helpful.”

She clapped her hands. “Now that we have settled your inquiry”—she linked her arm through his—“can I tempt you—to partake in some of the house’s offerings.”

The way she ran her fingers over his arm made it clear she was inviting him to her bed.

It was an offer he would love to take, but to his annoyance, an image of Farah standing in his bedroom, skirt hiked up to her waist and his large Hessian on her foot filled his mind. Why did that image haunt him so?

To his horror, he also realized he didn’t want to have sex with this woman. The woman he wanted beneath him, above him, every way a woman could be taken, was Farah. Damn it all to hell.