Henry scowled at the paper before him and cast it aside impatiently, rising to his feet and striding through the doors of his study to the main hall. His scowl deepened on discovering his butler was nowhere to be found. He leaned over the marble balustrade and hollered for the man.
A minute later, Georges appeared on the landing and raised an eyebrow in surprise at the look of impatience on his master’s usually cheerful face. “You called, my lord?”
“Where the devil did you disappear to?” Henry asked, returning to the study to assume his position behind the gleaming, massive desk. “I asked you to hang around.”
Georges bowed. “My apologies, my lord. Mrs. Middleton was having some trouble with the door to the larder. I went to offer assistance.” The scowl lifted from Henry’s face, and he nodded and retrieved the paper he had cast aside previously. “When was this delivered? And by
whom?”
“Early this morn, my lord. I received the letter from a young lad, but he merely said it came in from the mail coach this morning.”
“I see.” Henry thought for a moment, a frown marring his features once more. “This is rather unexpected, but I cannot say I am surprised at all.”
“Indeed, my lord?” Georges asked curiously, though his expression was carefully blank, as was expected in all competent butlers. He spared the letter a glance then returned his gaze to his employer.
Henry did not respond, merely forming a steeple with his long, lean fingertips and thought deeply for a few moments. His mind was working furiously on the matter at hand, and he knew what must be done to prevent the scandal that was already threatening to blow out of proportion. Damn Newbridge and his blasted stubbornness. If only he had listened to his advice.
He rose and reached for his morning coat and hat. “Saddle my horse at once, Georges. I must be off as soon as possible.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“And ask Peter to pack a bag for a few days journey. He is to bring it to the Inglewood farm as soon as possible.”
“Of course. Will you be gone for a long time, my lord?”
“I imagine not.” Henry took the stairs two at a time, shrugging on his coat as he moved quickly. “It should be three days or four at the most. I hope it is not too late.”
The butler nodded and slipped away in the direction of the stables, leaving Henry pacing the elaborate entrance hall impatient to be off at once. To say he had been most surprised to receive a letter from Miss Jane Rosebury asking for his help would be an understatement, more so since the lady in question had apparently admitted to willingly eloping with none other than Edward Inglewood. Of all the wonders on earth, that bit of information had been the most surprising.
He wondered what Newbridge would have to say about the matter. No doubt, this was the reason for the Duke’s recent absence, Henry reasoned, fishing in the pockets of his coat for his leather riding gloves. Instead, his hand closed over the crumpled letter which he must have slipped into his pockets and pulled it out, smoothing it out so he could read
it again. There were dried spots on the writing paper which hinted at tears.
Why would she be in tears? He scanned the contents quickly.
My Lord Westbrooke,
I am certain this letter will come as a shock to you, but I have no one else to turn to. As you may probably have heard, either from His Grace or perhaps through rumours, which I am sure will have circulated by now, Edward Inglewood and I have decided to go to Gretna Green and tie our vows as man and wife.
I know it is a scandal, but what else could I do? I love Edward as much as he loves me, and I could not bear the thought of being married to His Grace, someone who does not care for me. Please don’t judge me on the basis of this scandal.
Please, we find ourselves in need of help. We are certain the Duke will come after us, and heaven only knows what he will do when he does. His temper is quite awful, and he will find some way to punish us for what we have done. I appeal to you, Lord Westbrooke, as you are the only one who can prevail upon His Grace, to come to our aid in some way. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience this is bound to cost you, but we really do not know who else to turn to for protection, for Papa will not be able to do so.
We are still on our way to Scotland. We have only stopped at an inn, a place called The Wayside due to the storm, but we will be on our way. I do not have any regrets about my decision to marry Edward; I only fear the consequences of our action. Thank you for being so understanding, Lord Westbrooke. I remain, The Honourable, Jane Rosebury
Henry read the letter once more. Miss Rosebury was right in assuming that Newbridge would go after them, possibly to seek some form of revenge, possibly a duel that would most certainly take Edward’s life, for Newbridge was more than skilled in wielding a sword. Henry only hoped he would be able to get to Gretna Green in time to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.
The sound of footsteps drew him from his thoughts, and he looked to see his valet standing a distance away. Henry folded up the letter carefully and replaced it in his pocket, eyes holding a troubled expression. He found his leather gloves in the left pocket, pulled them out, and then addressed Peter.
“Did you receive my instructions?” he asked, tugging a glove over his left hand.
Peter nodded. “Yes, your lordship, I merely wish to inquire as to your destination so I may know the appropriate clothing to pack.”
“Scotland,” Henry replied, turning back towards the huge doors that served as the entrance to the house. He could hear hoof beats, and a moment later, the door opened, and Georges announced his mount was ready for him.
Issuing further instructions, Henry mounted the horse smoothly and set off towards Inglewood Manor.
***
A few minutes of hard riding brought him to Inglewood Manor, looking rather deserted as there was no smoke rising from the chimney, and the house, in general, had an unoccupied look to it. He brought the horse to a stop close to the little stone path that led to the front door and dismounted.
“Is any one in here?” Henry called out, sweeping off his hat and applying his knuckles to the solid oak door in a few sharp raps. As he had expected, there was no response or movement from within, but he could hear the sounds of animals coming from somewhere behind the house.
He turned to take the path that led round the house to the farmyard, following the sounds of the animals. As he rounded the path, he almost collided with a young lad coming the other way, a pitchfork in hand. The boy mumbled an apology, studying the earl from beneath his lashes, which Henry noted were impossibly long for a boy and gave him a sort of feminine look.
“Be begging ye pardon, ye lordship,” the boy apologized, reaching up to snatch away the cap from his head, revealing a tumble of unruly red curls. “I ’eard ye call out, but didna know ye would come this way.”
Henry studied the boy for a moment, taking in the slender frame and almost feminine look the lad had about him, even his voice was a tad too soft for a growing boy. He dismissed the thought, focusing back on the reason for his visit.
“Who are you? And where are the occupants of the house?” he demanded, his gaze sweeping through the yard but finding no one else present.
The boy shrugged his thin shoulders; his eyes fixed on the ground as though there was something that held his interest there. “I don’t know, yer lordship. Sir Inglewood has gone in search of them.”
Henry started at this bit of information. When had the father returned? And was he aware of what had happened with his son? “Sir Inglewood? The father is he here?”
The boy looked up briefly then resumed his communion with the dirt, but not before Henry caught a flash of something in his strange violet eyes. “He has gone in search of his family…yer lordship.”
“I see, and when did he arrive?”
“Just this morning, sir. We found the house deserted.” “And you are?”
The lad shifted uncomfortably, moving from one foot to the other, the pitchfork still resting on his left shoulder. “Jack, yer lordship.”
Henry studied the boy for a few more minutes, then nodded and turned to walk back towards the front of the house. He worried about Lucy and hoped she was alright. The sound of hoof beats filled the still morning air, and a lone horse and rider appeared over the slope, coming to a halt close to Henry. He could see the rider was an elderly gentleman with a full head of snowy white hair dressed in rather eccentric clothes. The man dismounted and approached, his expression curious yet wary. As he drew closer, Henry could see he bore a rather close resemblance to the younger Edward Inglewood and surmised that this would be Sir Inglewood.
He bowed, feeling the man’s eyes on him. “Good day, sir. I assume you must be the master of the house?”
Sir Inglewood nodded slowly, his gaze taking in every inch of Henry. “Indeed, I am, and who might you be, young man?”
“I am Earl Westbrooke. I have the pleasure of being acquainted with your family, sir, and I just learned you have recently returned?”
“You know Penelope?” Sir Inglewood edged closer, his face anxious for information. “Do you know where she has gone?”
At that moment, Henry realized it was possible Miss Inglewood had gone after her brother, perhaps taking Lucy with her, or leaving her in the care of someone. He seemed to recall the first time he had been introduced to Penelope; she had been in the company of another woman who appeared to be a close friend. What was the woman’s name?
“Have you heard the news, sir?” he asked Sir Edward.
“What news? What has happened?” The man’s face turned ashen with worry, and he came even closer. “Has some tragedy befallen them that I do not know?”
Henry decided to come right out with it. “Your son eloped with a lady of the ton a few days ago. I assume your eldest daughter has gone in search of him, but I am not certain.”
Sir Inglewood shut his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his soft white mane. “Ah…I should have known he would…I should have gotten here sooner…”
Henry silently agreed with the man. It was in very bad form to leave the responsibilities of raising such a spirited young man to an equally young lady and go traipsing off to parts unknown without a thought to the consequences. However, he carefully cleared his expression of any traces of disapproval and simply watched as Sir Edward berated himself. Standing around would not help. And Henry was eager to be off to Scotland before Phillip did some damage, but he needed to ensure that Lucy was safe.
“Do you know if Miss Inglewood has any friends she may have entrusted with Lucy’s care?” he asked quietly.
Sir Edward thought for a moment then his face lit up. “I believe I know where she is.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and hurried back to his mount, only casting a glance to check if Henry was following, and seeing the earl already mounted, he urged his horse forward.
The minute they arrived at Mrs. Ingram’s cottage, the front door opened and Lucy came flying out in a blur of skirts and petticoats towards them. She launched herself at her papa the minute he alighted and burst into sobs.
“Papa! Thank heavens you are here at last.” She sobbed, clinging to her father desperately, not even acknowledging Henry who stood beside them, watching her with a fond smile “It’s terrible. Edward has run away with Miss Rosebury. Penny went after them, and there has been no word at all. I am so frightened, Papa.”
Sir Inglewood held his daughter soothingly, whispering words of assurance. Henry looked on, then moved his gaze to the plump woman who had just exited the cottage in the company of two other young ladies. The minute they noticed him, they bobbed a curtsy, which he returned with a bow.
“My…lord?” Lucy finally noticed him and blushed to the roots of her fair hair, pulling away from her father. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled at her, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips. “I was worried about you, Miss Lucy. I am glad to find you in excellent health.”
“Oh!” she murmured, blushing even more if that was possible, “Thank you. But how did you know about…”
“Perhaps we had better retire indoors where we can discuss this matter away from prying ears?” Mrs. Ingram suggested lightly. They all agreed and moved indoors.
Once they were seated in the tiny living room, Lucy chose a seat next to Henry, which earned her a fond smile from the latter.
Sir Inglewood leaned forward. “What really happened?” he asked. Henry cleared his throat and narrated what he knew, with Lucy supplying details every now and then. At some point, he surreptitiously
reached for her hand, giving it a quick squeeze, letting her tiny hand rest in his warm, large own. When he wound to a stop, the entire room was silent, each one lost in thought.
Finally, Sir Inglewood rose. “I must go after them. Something has to be done at once. I am apprehensive about this duke and his intentions.” Henry released Lucy’s hand and rose, straightening his jacket. “I
will accompany you. It will be best if we set off at once.”
An hour later, Henry set off for Gretna Green in the company of Sir Inglewood. He sincerely hoped Phillip and Penny had not caught up with the eloped couple yet.