All About Seduction(129)

“Your brother, Lord Nesham, is just arrived,” her maid told her.

Finally, she might get some answers. “Have Mrs. Burns put him in the drawing room.”

She tilted to look out the window. A lathered horse was being led to the stables. Goodness, Robert must have ridden hard through the night to arrive so early in the morning.

No matter what they said, she was breaking free of her family’s cocoon and going into the mill office today. With or without Mr. Broadhurst’s support, she would set in motion plans to build a warehouse for the cotton shipments likely to swamp them in the fall. Whether it would be throwing good money after bad or not, the worst thing they could do was be unprepared for its arrival. She didn’t know if Jack would accept a partnership to found his business, but she was proceeding as if he would.

Her family’s presence meant she hadn’t spent one second alone with Mr. Broadhurst and he was forced to act as a gentlemen would. Every night one or more of her siblings decided to have a comfortable coze, sitting on her bed until Caroline fell asleep. But not having a minute alone to reflect on what had happened was starting to wear on her.

She rubbed her hand across the mound of her belly, which seemed to increase each day. Still, each day she went without hearing from Jack was a nightmare.

Forcing down the tea and toast that would help keep her stomach from rebelling, Caroline sat on the edge of her chair. Beyond wanting answers from Robert, she was restless. Her sleep had been fitful and she woke to nightmares of Jack calling and her not being able to get to him in time. Where was he?

She pushed her plate back and went downstairs to search out her brother. Learning he was closeted with her husband in his study, she paced the hall outside.

After a while she tried the door, but found it locked.

Leaning an ear against the wood, she heard nothing. She knocked and then knocked again.

The door cracked. “I said we weren’t to be disturbed,” said Robert in an imperious voice. “Oh, it is you.” His tone softened.

He smelled of horse and looked unkempt. How odd.

Her stomach roiled in response to the strong tang of horse sweat. She put her fingers over her mouth, cursing the weakness the pregnancy evoked. “What are you doing?”

“I needed to go over a few things with Mr. Broadhurst this morning. Go to the drawing room and wait.”

Behind him she thought she heard a weak cry.

She rose on her toes.

“Go now, Caro.” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Jack will be here any minute.” Then he shut the door in her face.

Jack would be here? Her heart hammering in her chest, she ran to the front door and opened it. Two carriages were starting down the drive. One she recognized as her brother’s, the other was plain and black.

She ran down the steps and bounced. Surely Jack was in her brother’s carriage. And he couldn’t come here. But oh God, she wanted to see him again. She needed to see him again.

The carriages drew to a halt at the base of the stairs. Like ants escaping an anthill, men wearing black suits and black hats emerged out of the vehicles.

One touched the brim of his hat, but for the most part she was ignored as they swarmed past her. Then Jack descended the carriage steps. His face was determined, but the corners of his mouth lifted in acknowledgment of her as he moved toward the stairs. She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t know who the men were.

“It will be over soon, Caro,” he said in a low undertone as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

His fingertips went unerringly to the last of the bruise on her cheek and his brown eyes narrowed.

“He will never hurt you again.” He stepped back and glanced toward the door. “Shall we go inside?”

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she whispered.

“We’ll have time for talking later,” Jack said. He pivoted and walked up the stairs rapidly, like a man with two legs would. His steps had only the slightest hitch.

She dashed at the stupid tears forming in her eyes and followed him.

Two of the men held Mr. Broadhurst by the arms. He was pale and sweaty. His eyes scanned the hall and lit on her.

“Mrs. Broadhurst, send for the . . .” He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “ . . . tea trolley. If we sit down in my office, we can reach a reasonable solution.” He twisted left and right looking at the men holding his arms. “What was it you wanted to discuss?”

“The conspiracy and murder of Thomas Whitton.”