Page 25 of The Broken Marchioness (Lords of Inconvenience #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

F rederica peered beyond the carriage window, looking expectantly out at the house appearing in the distance. Her aunt’s cottage, covered in flowers, was near at last. It had been a long journey, and she had asked that they not stop for the night but just keep on going.

It was now the early hours of the second day, the light beyond the carriage windows grey, and the air cold. Despite the gloom, Frederica was filled with relief to be here.

As the carriage came to a stop, she opened the door before the footman could reach it. Clearly, she was not the only one awake at such an early hour.

The next second, a window in the house was thrust open. Honora pushed her head out through the gap. Her hair wasn’t yet in an updo, and she had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Frederica?” she called in shock. “Is that you?”

“It’s me.” Frederica called out. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, knowing they had nearly constantly streaked her skin since she had left Allan’s house. “Aunt, can I stay here for a while please?”

“Of course, you can!” The words burst out of Honora. “Come in, come in. I’ll be down soon.”

Frederica hurried forward to the house. She found the door open and burst inside. The familiar scents and the vase of flowers on a nearby sideboard were all warm and comforting. She entered the parlor and ran her hand along the back of the settee where she had so often sat in the year she had stayed here. She was still walking around the room, admiring it, indulging in memories and a feeling of being so far away in London, when Honora appeared at the door.

Her hair still wasn’t done for she had come down in such haste, but she had pulled on a gown rather haphazardly. The sleeves were a little loose, and she still held onto one shoe she hadn’t quite pulled onto her foot.

“Frederica?” Honora called to her. The moment Frederica looked at her, she felt something crack inside of her.

There was a painful mix of relief and pain. She longed to be with Allan, yet knew that the safest thing for him was to be so far away here with Honora. At once, Frederica burst into tears.

Honora ran forward, wrapping her up in her arms.

“Oh, Frederica, do not cry, sweetheart.”

Yet Frederica could not stop. One tear followed another with great haste. She found herself bundled onto the settee. Tea was hurriedly prepared, and Frederica struggled to hold onto a handkerchief, a slice of cake, and a cup of tea. She just stared at Honora, lost for what to do and what to say.

Honora took pity on her, taking the tea and cake out of her hands and placing them down on the table beside her.

“What has happened?” Honora asked.

“I — I had to leave. It was for the best.”

A hint of anger crossed Honora’s features, making her frown.

“The truth now, Frederica. No more hiding. What is it I do not know?”

Frederica sighed. For so long she had tried to keep things a secret. Now, what was the point? She had no intention of going back to London and putting Allan in danger, after all.

“He threatened to hurt Allan if I didn’t end the marriage.” The words were out of Frederica like a bottle suddenly uncorked. “First, he threatened Dorothy, now Allan. I… I don’t know what he’s capable of. I couldn’t risk him ending up hurt.”

“When you say you ended the marriage,” Honora grimaced, “did you ask for a divorce?”

“An annulment.” It was a confession of the truth that she and Allan had never consummated the marriage. An annulment could only be granted if they hadn’t consummated it. “He agreed,” Frederica said, her breath hitching.

“And all this pain,” Honora said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This pain is because you didn’t really want to let him go, did you?”

“I had no choice,” Frederica’s voice was firm as she batted away her tears. “What else could I do?”

“Well, we have all been known to do foolish things for love in our time, but running away from the love of your life is really quite something.”

“What?” Frederica halted, the handkerchief falling limp in her hands. “What did you say?”

“Running away —”

“No. The love part,” Frederica said shakily.

“You do love him, don’t you?” Honora said nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t a whirlwind thing to discuss. “You cannot hide it, can you? Do you deny it?”

She had once thought it to herself that she was falling in love with Allan, but to admit it aloud was something else altogether. It would suddenly make the thing she was trying to deny herself a reality.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Oh, do not be ridiculous!” Honora snapped, waving her hand at Frederica. “You forget, I saw you two together. I saw the way you would smile at him — how when you let your guard down, he could make you happy in a way no other could. The only problem was you weren’t willing to let your guard down.”

“But Aunt —”

“No, listen, Frederica.” Honora sat taller. “Because I love you very dearly. You are the kindest family member I still have — the one I want to be happy more than any other — and I can’t stand the fact that you strangle yourself all the time and stop yourself from living that happiness. If you love him, then say it. Why is it so wrong to tell him that you love him?”

“Because what good can come from saying it?” Frederica countered, just as vehemently. “We can’t be together. We just can’t be. For his safety, it cannot happen.”

“So, you do all this to keep him safe, eh? All for him.”

“Lord Wetherington would hurt him. Lord knows what he’s capable of, Aunt. I have no choice. I can’t go back to London.”

* * *

“Well? Anything?” Allan asked, stepping into Stephen’s house.

Stephen grabbed his shoulder and placed a finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of the sitting room. Silently, Allan inched toward the door, peering inside.

Dorothy was fast asleep on the settee, and she was not the only one. Her daughter, Arabella, was sleeping soundly in her arms, and even Peter was asleep in the chair next to his mother, his head resting on his small coiled up hands.

Allan felt pain and joy at seeing them. It was a moment of perfect familial peace, and it seemed a peace he would never know. He would never be able to stand as Stephen stood now, smiling at his family with doting love in his eyes.

Allan had to turn his back on the idea of family; the pain was never-ending.

That is not mine and Frederica’s future, is it?

Even if he managed to find Frederica and get her out of Lord Wetherington’s clutches, there was nothing to say she would ever love him as he did her.

Stephen took his shoulder again and steered him into the parlor across the corridor. The moment they were inside, Allan started speaking again.

“Anything —?”

“They had a sleepless night,” Stephen explained with a wave of his hand. “They need this. I don’t think it helped, me being out most of the night trying to find Lord Wetherington. I take it you found nothing, then?”

“No, nothing.” Allan sighed, pacing around the room. “I tried three gentlemen’s clubs in Covent Garden. I even heard a rumor that Lord Wetherington is fond of a particular theatre there, but he was nowhere to be seen there either. Any luck finding his house?”

“No luck.” Stephen sat down, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Everyone I asked seems to think he’s staying outside of London, but his country seat is Hertfordshire way. He must have a townhouse or lodgings where he is staying.”

“Do you think…” Allan halted, afraid to finish asking this question. It had plagued his mind all night as to whether Frederica could be with him or not.

“If she’s with him, I do not think for a second that Frederica went willingly, no,” Stephen said quickly, raising his head. “I think she went because she had no choice.”

Allan looked away, returning to his pacing. All night he had been unable to sleep. He caught a glance of his reflection in the nearest window now, seeing the heavy shadows and the ashen-gray color of his face.

“I look sick,” he muttered in surprise.

“Lovesickness will do that to a man,” Stephen murmured. Allan glowered at him, but they said nothing more on the subject.

“He didn’t come to the wedding, Stephen. Her parents didn’t insist on him being there and he didn’t appear and object to the wedding either. So, why do this now?”

“It rather depends on what type of man he is, doesn’t it?” Stephen said with interest, crossing his arms over his chest. “Objecting at your wedding would be a desperate act. It would reveal him to be a man so utterly obsessed and full of need. Instead, he has made her dance to his tune, rather like controlling an automaton.”

Allan shivered at the thought. He remembered the face of Lord Wetherington that night at the assembly. The more he thought back to how the Viscount had stared at Frederica, the more he thought there was something truly sinister in it.

“So, we don’t know where he’s staying in London. Is there a chance he could have taken her to this house in Hertfordshire you mentioned?” Allan asked, tired of feeling as if he was sitting still and doing nothing.

“Perhaps.” Stephen grimaced, clearly thinking it unlikely. “There is enough time to have moved her there by now. However, you would think that a young lady turning up at a gentleman’s house to whom she is not married in the countryside would be even more noticeable. No, I think if he wishes to hide his misdeeds, then he must still have her somewhere in London.”

The thought of what those ‘misdeeds’ could be made Allan pace more madly than before.

“He won’t have hurt her,” Stephen murmured, plainly reading Allan’s mind.

“You don’t know that,” Allan said sharply. “We can’t know that. Was she not attacked the first time she found herself alone with this man? Did he not try to force himself on her then?”

Stephen paled and adjusted himself in his seat, looking more discomforted than ever.

“I can’t continue to do nothing,” Allan spat. “I’ve got to do something.”

He was tormenting his own mind by thinking of exactly what could be happening to Frederica right now. He was replaying every conversation they had ever had. Every good discussion — every single one — where she had looked tense and uneasy as they talked of her parents.

“Her parents must know where he is,” Allan said quickly.

“Right, and you think they would tell you?” Stephen pointed out with a scoff. “They wanted her to marry him in the first place. If you go and tell them she’s gone and you’re looking for her, they’ll probably dance with joy.”

Allan cursed and marched back the other way around the parlor.

“If you’re to continue to wear a hole in the floor, might I suggest we go somewhere else for you to do it?” Stephen said, suddenly standing.

“Where?” Allan asked.

“Clearly, we cannot find Lord Wetherington between us.” Stephen gestured to the door. “So I suggest we talk to someone else. A man who might have more experience of the way that the streets of a city can work at night if you move away from the affluent areas.”

“Stephen…” Allan didn’t want to share the news with many people that his wife had left him and was looking for an annulment. For some mad reason, he still had a tiny hope in the back of his mind that they could somehow have a reconciliation.

“Gerard. He wouldn’t tell your secret to anyone, Allan, but he might be our best hope.”

* * *

Allan stood uncomfortably on the doorstep, pacing up and down as the rain fell overhead.

“Are you now trying to work a hole in the stone steps beneath you?” Stephen asked tartly. Allan didn’t bother answering him and just walked up and down again.

At last, the door opened, and they were presented with Gerard’s butler.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the butler said, bowing deeply.

“Good evening, can we speak with the master of the house please?” Stephen uttered rather formally.

All this formality merely irked Allan more. It seemed incredible that they were bothering with such things when Frederica had gone missing, and they had no idea where to find her. For all they knew, at this very moment, she might fear for her life, and they were bothering with saying ‘good evening’?

The butler showed them into the house and through to Gerard’s study.

Despite the late hour, Gerard was up working. He wore one of his customary grey suits, the jacket discarded, and the cravat slung somewhere away. He clearly hated them. He constantly fidgeted when he had one around his neck. He looked up from his tenants’ papers at their entrance.

“Is this about Frederica?” he asked.

At once, Allan turned accusingly to Stephen. His glare must have really been something powerful, for even Stephen took a step back.

“Relax,” Gerard called. “Dorothy wrote to Charlotte.”

“Do these women share everything?” Allan asked tiredly.

“It seems so,” Gerard agreed with a nod. “So, ye have both been looking for Frederica and cannae find her. Am I right?”

Uncomfortable to have had his mind read so well, Allan waved a hand, silently asking Stephen to do the talking for him. Fortunately, Stephen knew him so well after so many years that he did so at once.

He explained in detail how they had been looking for where Lord Wetherington was staying in London, believing that to be their best chance of finding where Frederica had gone.

“And she’s nae at her parents’ house?” Gerard asked in deep thought, sitting back in his chair.

“She would never go back there,” Allan said with confidence. After all that her parents had put her through, of this he had no doubt.

“I checked anyway,” Stephen confessed. He shrugged when Allan looked at him questioningly. “I had to go and see for myself. Her parents didn’t know I was there. I watched the house, and when a maid came out, I asked her if she had seen Frederica at all. She’s not been seen in that house since she went for dinner with her parents, and Lord Wetherington was there.”

To hear Lord Wetherington’s name again was sickening. Allan turned on the spot, pulling at his hair with both hands.

“Ye able to sit down at all? Have ye slept since she left?” Gerard asked Allan.

“Would you if it were Charlotte?”

“No, so I cannae blame ye for it.” Gerard suddenly stood. He rounded the desk and reached for Allan’s shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing. “Halt.”

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll be nay use to Frederica if ye’re exhausted before ye have chance to commence this search properly for her. We’ll find her, Allan. Leave the matter with me, and in the meantime, ye get some rest.”

Allan blinked. The thought of being so useless — so futile in his efforts to find his wife — was sickening.

“No.” He shook his head. “I have to find her, Gerard.”

“I ken, but let me be clear on something here. Since I’ve become a part of the ton, I’ve seen time and time again how everyone kens where everyone lives in this ridiculous city. Every titled man might as well be pinpointed on the map of London. Yet Lord Wetherington? Oddly, nay one kens where he is?” Gerard paused, clearly waiting for this to sink in. “That is nay coincidence. It suggests to me that he doesnae want to be found.”

“I wondered if he was using a different house. Perhaps a townhouse away from the most affluent streets of London,” Stephen explained cautiously.

“I’d say that’s likely. I have contacts in this city. I can track him down.” Gerard nodded.

“How will you find him?” Allan asked in disbelief, scarcely able to understand how Gerard could do what he couldn’t. “I’m seconds away from walking the streets of London and just calling out her name. How is it you’ll be able to find out where they are?”

“I dinnae say I would be able to find Frederica,” Gerard said calmly. “Remember, we dinnae actually ken if Frederica is with him or nae.”

“Where else would she be?” Stephen spoke up, clearly thinking just like Allan that she had to be with Lord Wetherington, under duress.

“Then I’ll find him,” Gerard said assuredly. “And dinnae look at me like that, Allan. I was nae born a gentleman of the ton. I ken all sorts of men in this city, and some acquaintances sometimes prove to be quite useful. Just go home and leave it with me.”

He clapped Allan comfortingly on the shoulder again, but still, Allan didn’t move.

He stood like a plank of wood, staring down at the floor, furious at himself.

Not only had he failed to recognize that Frederica was afraid — and had been forced into action because of a man in her life she had been running from for well over a year now — but now, he was failing to be the one to bring her home and make her safe.

When he at last got the opportunity to talk to her, he made a vow to say what he had been too afraid to say to her before.

I love you, Freddie, and if you give me another chance, I swear, Lord Wetherington will never get within a mile of you again.