Page 28 of The Devil’s Waltz
“The nearest.” If only she could remember where William Dickinson said he was staying. If only he was still there. When she’d met him in the park he said he was leaving today, and he might have gotten an early start. In which case she wasn’t sure what she would do.
She drummed her fingers on the leather seat beside her. She’d forgotten gloves and a hat, but at least the hood of the cape would provide both coverage and disguise. It seemed forever until the driver pulled to a stop, and he wasn’t about to get down and open the door for her, a novel experience.
“You’ll wait for me,” Annelise said, a statement, not a request as she wrestled with the door and the fold-down steps on her own.
“Who’s to say you’re going to return? How about some money up front?”
Oh, God, money! She’d been so shatter-brained she’d forgotten all about that little necessity of life. For all that she considered herself a self-reliant woman, in the end she was just as helpless as all the pretty young things on the marriage mart.
Don’t show fear, she reminded herself. “You’ll be paid when I find my friend,” she said in a voice that no one would dare argue with. And she marched into the Albion Inn with her back ramrod straight.
It only took her a moment to find the owner. “Excuse me, sir, but I’m looking for a gentleman. My cousin, William Dickinson.” She’d come up with the slightly believable story on the ride in the uncomfortable hackney. “I believe he’s staying here.”
The man hesitated, unsure how to treat her. She clearly wasn’t a whore, but no lady would arrive at an inn by herself in search of a gentleman.
. In the end he decided to err on the side of a slightly sullen courtesy. “Right behind you, miss.”
It was all she could do not to burst into noisy tears of relief. “Miss Kempton? What are you doing here? Has something happened to Hetty?”
“Cousin William!” she said loudly, taking his arm. ‘Is there someplace where we may speak privately?”
“There’s my room, but that would be improper...”
“Lead on. Oh, but wait! First I need some money.”
He was staring at her in mystified disbelief, but fortunately he was a reasonable soul, so he simply pulled out his purse. “What do you need?”
“Actually I need you to go out there and pay that hackney driver. I forgot that I would need money when I left the house.”
“Something’s happened to Hetty. Please, Miss Kempton, you must tell me!”
“Pay the driver first, and then we may talk in private.”
Annelise had had more than her share of uncomfortable moments in her life, but standing in the middle of the well-populated tavern of the Albion Inn with seemingly a hundred pairs of eyes upon her had to rank with the most difficult.
Fortunately, Will moved quickly, returning from the street, catching her arm with more haste than politeness, and leading her up the stairs.
“I wonder who’s paying who?” some bright wag commented, loudly enough for them to hear, and Will halted, about to turn around.
“Ignore them,” Annelise whispered. “We have more important things to worry about.”
The room was small, the bed unmade, and Annelise plopped herself down in the middle of it, unconcerned about appearances. “Christian Montcalm has run off with Hetty,” she announced the moment he closed the door. “As far as I can tell, they’ve been gone all night.”
“He’s kidnapped her?” William said, turning pale.
Annelise needed quick action, but she didn’t want to lie. “At the very least he beguiled and misled her. And she was heartbroken when I gave her your letter—I’m certain she wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She should have known William would be a reasonable man.
‘If she went with him it was only because he took unfair advantage of her. And I don’t care how many nights she’s been with him—when we find them I’ll kill him and take Hetty with me.
We can get married and no one will have to know the truth—I can no longer worry about Chippie’s villainy when Hetty’s honor is at stake. ”
“If you kill Christian Montcalm it might look a bit suspicious,” Annelise pointed out, ever practical.
She was wise enough not to add that the likelihood of a young boy like William being able to defeat a practiced duelist was not good.
“Our wisest course is to rescue her, convince Montcalm to keep silent, either by threat or bribe, and you two can elope to Scotland. Preferably before Mr. Chippie returns from wherever he’s disappeared to and can put a stop to it. ”
“You’re certain she didn’t accompany her father?”
“Quite certain,” Annelise said, the. mocking note crumpled in her pocket. “Our only problem is discovering where he’s taken her.”
“I doubt they’re still in London—the farther away he gets her the more difficult it would be to mount a rescue. But I have no idea where he might go. I don’t believe he has a country house?—”
Annelise let out a cry of relief. “Yes, he does! In Devon. I’m not certain I remember the name of the town, but his house is called Wynche End.”
“Devon’s a big county, Miss Kempton,” William said doubtfully.
Annelise bounced off the bed. “I know that, William. My elder sister lives there. If you’re so ready to admit defeat then I’ll go after her myself...” she began, but William put firm hands on her arms and settled her back on the bed.
“I’m not going to admit defeat. I was unwise even to consider it. I just think we should find out what part of Devon...”
“It’s on the coast. If I weren’t so upset I’d be able to think more clearly, but once we’re on our way it should come back to me.” After all, she remembered just about everything he had ever said to her, done to her, every expression and touch. The rat bastard.
“All right,” William said. “I’ll arrange for horses?—”
“No!” Annelise said, unable to hide her panic. “I can’t ride. Besides, when we find her we’d either need to find another horse or some form of conveyance. You need to hire a carriage. A fast one.”
“Perhaps I should go on my own. I can ride faster than any carriage, and go places that you couldn’t...”
“She’ll need the presence of a respectable woman if we’re to rescue her from this folly,” Annelise said.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
She suddenly realized that she’d left her valise in the hired cab, with only her embroidered bag of pearls still tucked in her pocket. It was too late to find the driver, too late to do anything. She would manage. She always did.
She rose from the bed. “I’m ready,” she said as calmly as she could manage. And she held out her hand for his arm.