The Marquis’s Misstep by Kathy L. Wheeler

Six

I

’m so glad we are riding to Colchester together,” Lorelei said. “Long drives can be so tedious. I expect Thorne will meet us there once we arrive.”

Ginny removed her gloves and flexed her fingers, being careful of the catch in her wrist. It seemed more testy of late. “You know very well if you hadn’t insisted that Miss Lambert and the girls stay at your household, I would not be here now.” She glanced out at the passing landscape, still wishing she’d remained home.

“Well, they’ll help in keeping little Nathaniel entertained.” Her voice dropped. “It’s disappointing I couldn’t convince Corinne into coming along. I can’t seem to rouse that young woman into anything. I fear if it was not for Nathan—”

Ginny grabbed her hand. “Don’t even think it, Lorelei. You’ve done everything possible for her and Nathan. She should be grateful.”

“Perhaps. I just wish…wish Thorne could locate my brother. It breaks my heart to see her in such despair.”

“Where is Lord Kimpton, by the way?”

“I think he and Brock may have learned something of Harlowe.”

Ginny’s attention snapped from the passing scenery to her friend’s. She sat in the shadow of the carriage, her expression hidden. “Harlowe? Brock and… why… I hadn’t realized…”

“That they were still looking? Yes. Not much has been said. I think Thorne fears disappointing me. And admittedly, I’m afraid to ask.” The last was uttered with disgust. “I can only pray it’s not due to his morality. Then again, at least we would know.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes misting.

Ginny patted her knee. “Oh, Lorelei. Your brother will turn up, I’m sure of it. I lived, didn’t I, and Harlowe is much stronger than me.”

“I-I appreciate your saying so.” She sniffed into her handkerchief then raised her head. “Now. Enough of this maudlin talk. Tell me. What did Lord Griston do with the urchin he caught? You must have been relieved he was along.”

Ginny suppressed a shudder, unsure why it bothered her. Another wispy strand added to her string of nightmares. “I don’t know what they did with him. It bothers me, Lorelei. He was just a child.”

“A thief, Ginny. If Griston hadn’t been there…”

Ginny let go of her friend’s hand and moved back against the velvet cushioned and looked out the window, hardly seeing the rolling hills. “Society does not value the life of children much, does it? Women are considered expendable, though we are a needed vessel for populating the earth.” The silence stretched in the carriage, not uncomfortably so. “There must be something we could do.”

“Yes. It’s a dilemma. How did Irene handle the episode?” It was a fair question, Ginny knew. Irene and Lorelei shared a special bond. Irene had been the one to lead Kimpton and Brock to the rooms behind a hidden door in the Maudsleys’ wine cellar that fateful day. Said door had since been nailed shut.

“I’ve never experienced such terror in my life. She is always so… so, well, I can’t put it into words. When I heard her scream, I thought I had fallen through the earth straight into purgatory. How I worry over her. Every day she becomes more withdrawn. And I have no inkling how to breach such reserve.”

“Perhaps it’s just a phase.”

“It’s not normal for a child her age. I confess, I’ve let her sleep with me the last two nights.” She turned back to Lorelei, smiling slightly. “My goodness, we have turned grim. On another note”—she wrinkled her nose— “she and Celia were both willing to listen to me regarding their safety. Once I mentioned Lord Brockway’s willingness to help.”

Lorelei shifted on the seat, bringing her face into the light. Amusement lit her dainty features. “They are quite fond of him, and with good reason.”

Ginny hated agreeing with that sentiment, but she gave credit where it was due. Lord Brockway had saved her life and, more importantly, her children’s lives. For that he could be forgiven anything. Just not completely trusted.

“What wisdom have you imparted thus far?”

“Not much, sadly. I fear I’ve terrified the girls with what notions I could think of to tell them. And when that young boy attempted to steal Celia’s locket…” The chills curled up Ginny’s spine to the hair at her nape.

“Tell me.”

“Oh, there’s not much really. A couple of things.” Ginny shrugged. “To follow their own instincts if they feel uncomfortable. To run or—”

“Or hide?”

“Yes. To yell for help if they find themselves, God forbid, being taken against their will.” Ginny’s heart thumped hard against her chest at just saying such words aloud. “I want them to scream their bloody lungs out. Kick with no thought to protocol.”

Lorelei gasped, her eyes wide and shoulders shaking. The sight jolted Ginny. She peered at her friend sheepishly. “Forgive my cursing.” Lorelei couldn’t seem to speak. Ginny looked closer. “You’re laughing.”

“A little.” Seconds later her mien grew somber. She touched Ginny’s hand. “There’s no need to apologize to me, my dear. Not after everything you went through. I shudder to think of anything happening to Nathan, and he’s my nephew, not my child.”

The naked pang of longing on her face touched Ginny anew, yet saying so might hurt her friend worse than remaining silent. Ginny had never known anyone who wanted or deserved a child more. “I have to tell you, I only shared a couple of things, and both girls, in their own way, did exactly as we talked about. Irene was wary in meeting Griston. He assured her that he understood, being a stranger. And when that boy tried stealing Celia’s locket and she screamed bloody murder… well, I’ve never been so proud.”

Lorelei smiled. “I admit, I had my doubts about this notion of yours, but I think your idea in the end will turn out to be brilliant.”

“Honestly, I’ve hardly slept since seeing that article in the Gazette. I could barely bring myself to leave home.”

“As the girls are safely ensconced in my home, you need not fret. We shall have a grand time,” Lorelei told her.

Her words did nothing to comfort Ginny. Inside her heart, terror still swept through her in droves. “I shall fret until those girls are back in my sight,” she said softly, doing her utmost to suppress the icy pricks raising her skin. It didn’t work. She rubbed her upper arms.

Lorelei fell back against the seat. “’Tis a shame these events don’t encourage children.”

An unexpected, exasperated laugh spilled from her. “Yes. Well, in all honesty, if these ‘events’ encouraged children, I daresay these ‘events’ would cease to exist.”

Brock was hot, dusty, and tired. Kimpton, riding beside him, hadn’t seemed to fare any better. Their search for Evelyn Holks the last two days had turned up nothing. The trail had, in fact, stopped cold, even after speaking with every doctor and quack they could locate in the surrounding townships. He missed Ginny. He wanted to hear that obnoxious laugh of hers, reassure her of Irene’s and Cecilia’s safety, protect the three of them from every nightmare, villain, and atrocity life threw at them. “We need to get to Griston’s. Ginny is expecting me,” he told Kimpton.

“Is she?” The smirk on Kimpton’s face had Brock pulling up short.

Wariness weaved through him. “Isn’t she?”

“She sent over a note to Lorelei with her regrets.”

That was a relief.

“London for me, then.” Brock turned his horse to the south.

“If I know my wife, however, she dropped everything and rushed over to Maudsley House,” Kimpton said, as if Brock hadn’t spoken.

Brock glanced over his shoulder, squinted at his friend in the bright sun, grunting. Lady Kimpton was forever trying to throw Ginny in his path, and he appreciated her persistence. God knew Ginny was beyond the definition of stubbornness.

“Let’s grab some lunch then head to Griston’s. Lorelei should be there sometime today. Frankly, I’d like to be there when she arrives. I don’t care much for Griston,” Kimpton said.

“You’re not the only one,” Brock muttered under his breath as he and Kimpton pulled up at an inn in Colchester. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see if your wife was successful in convincing Ginny to attend.”