A Wedding In Springtime(96)

“I thought you knew.”

Marchford glanced at Penelope. “I’m guessing I should have listened to you.”

“I can only agree with you, Your Grace,” said Pen.

“We came to find Miss Talbot,” explained Grant, finding his own chair. What he wanted right now was a stiff drink, but he refrained. Considering what drink had done to him lately, he had sworn off the bottle. No matter how much he might wish to fade off into inebriated oblivion, he was determined to stay in the game.

“You had best let me see that letter you are holding,” said Marchford calmly. “Do not fear, Lady Bremerton. I am certain things will work out for the best. The letter please.”

Lady Bremerton relinquished the letter with a bit of a moan and Marchford scanned it quickly.

“Well?” asked Grant.

“She has run off with another man,” stated Marchford in a flat tone, which nonetheless started Lady Bremerton crying once more.

“Is Genie with her?” asked Grant.

“No, how can she be? She was at Marchford house not a half hour ago,” said Marchford. “Did you know she had left?” he asked Penelope.

“No. But I am not surprised,” Pen answered.

“Lady Bremerton, I know this is difficult, but may we have permission to search the rooms of Lady Louisa and Miss Talbot?” asked Marchford. “We may be able to find clues as to where they have both gone.”

“Yes, yes, of course. We have already looked, but you may as well if you think it will help. I know I can rely on your discretion?” Her chin trembled.

“Of course, Lady Bremerton,” stated Marchford. “I only wish she had come to me. We might have dispensed with this unpleasantness.”

The search of the ladies’ rooms revealed nothing. They took their leave of the inconsolable Lady Bremerton and stood for a moment outside the house.

“I’ll check with the groom to see if he knows anything,” said Grant.

“But Lady Bremerton already told us Genie had not gone anywhere but Marchford house,” said the duke.

“Lady Bremerton does not appear to know all that goes on in her house,” commented Pen.

Grant spoke with Sammy the groom and found Genie had gone yesterday to a chocolate shop in Piccadilly, but otherwise, there were no secret travels. When Grant returned, Marchford had taken on a greenish hue.

“You all right?” asked Grant.

“I have been speaking with Miss Rose and now I have a pressing matter to attend to.”

“She knows the man your bride ran off with?” guessed Grant.

“Yes. Apparently, Louisa ran off with her… husband.”





Thirty-two





Think, think, think.

It was not the time to panic and become foolish, as was common in gothic novels. It was the time to think clearly if she wished her brother, and herself, to emerge from this tangle alive.

Genie clutched her reticule tightly. Inside was the letter she had created. She had carefully removed the seal from the letter she found in the safe with the duke’s own penknife and reattached the seal with sealing wax onto a blank parchment. She wanted to help her brother, but she was not about to steal secret documents to do it.

She exited the house by the front door and quickly turned along the side, cutting through the gardens to the opposite side of the block. Her conscience pricked her. She should not have sneaked into the duke’s study to steal anything. Yet, her brother’s life hung in the balance. Surely that gave her just cause for some license in propriety? Did it not?

She was not sure, but she was committed to the path now. She would save her brother and then return home to become a maiden aunt. After all she had been through, the prospect was more appealing than ever before. The thing she would not consider was Grant. What they shared, how he acted in the morning. Rejected.

Genie stopped short, took a deep breath against the surging tide of emotion, and struck out walking again. She would not be defeated. She could not change what had happened or how far she had fallen, but she could try to make things right for her brother.

The shops she passed were open for business; people passed her on the street, giving her second glances and raised eyebrows. She was walking alone on the streets of London. Not good. She would have preferred to hire a hack, but short of a few farthings, she had given every coin she had to her brother, leaving her without enough for the fare.

Despite her love for long, solitary walks in the country, she understood that in Town, a lady never walked alone. She considered for a moment returning to the chocolate shop to produce the letter but thought better of it. The store might not be safe. She was certain she did not know all the intrigue surrounding this letter, but she was wary someone may not wish her to speak of it later. No, she must meet the Candyman in a more neutral place, and it certainly was not going to be at some public house of his choosing.