A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(79)

‘Her maid?’ Radcliffe drew up short.

Beaverton had shown the young lady into the library, and Radcliffe hastened down to meet her. It was indeed the housemaid who had accompanied Miss Talbot on her various visits – Radcliffe recognised the red hair, as well as the disconcertingly direct stare.

‘May I help you?’ he asked. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I hope so,’ she said, biting her lip. She was holding herself up straight, but there was the suggestion of nerves about her.

‘I know this is mighty strange me calling here alone, my lord, but I’m not sure what to do. Mrs Kendall is in Brighton, and Miss Kitty in Kensington and – I didn’t know where else to turn.’

‘What’s wrong?’ he said sharply.

‘It’s Miss Cecy, my lord. She’s only gone and eloped,’ she said despairingly, brandishing a letter at him. He took it, noticing that it was already open.

‘This is addressed to Miss Talbot,’ he said neutrally.

‘If you think I wouldn’t open a letter like that, when it’s clearly got trouble inside, you are dead wrong,’ she retorted, suddenly fierce. He scanned its contents, expression darkening.

‘Does Miss Talbot know of this?’ he demanded.

‘No, my lord. As I said, she’s at the Hastings ball – and by the time I got there they’d have been halfway to Scotland. I came straight to you.’

Radcliffe nodded distractedly, drumming his fingers upon the table. He could have asked the young woman why, exactly, she felt the need to come to him – could remonstrate her for involving him in a mess that was not his and had nothing to do with him, given Miss Cecily was neither a member of his family, nor even a close acquaintance. Why should he care? But what would have been the point. He was not going to let such a disastrous thing happen to Miss Talbot, not when it would ruin everything the brave creature had done so far for her family. There was no point discussing the whys, not when he had known from the first second that he would be doing something about it.

He strode to the door, opened it imperiously and called out to his manservant. ‘Beaverton, send a man to the west and northern gates. Ask them there if they’ve seen the Montagu carriage pass – and to return as soon as they hear. And send Lawrence in.’

With a few short sentences, there was an army at his command. Lawrence arrived hurriedly, pulling on a jacket as he came into the room.

‘Have the carriage brought round, Lawrence, and saddle up my bay, we’re leaving for Scotland on a most urgent mission.’ Radcliffe turned to Sally. ‘Will you join me?’ he asked, bowing courteously.

‘What do you plan on doing?’ she said suspiciously.

‘Fetching them back,’ he said grimly.

They rode north as fast as they were able, the wind howling painfully through Radcliffe’s ears. Lawrence was driving the carriage, Sally jostling within, but Radcliffe had outpaced them almost immediately on his bay. There was no chance of losing each other on the Great Northern Road, and while the carriage – and Sally’s chaperonage – would be essential for the return journey with Miss Cecily, Radcliffe knew his only chance of catching the couple would be on horseback.

The Montagu carriage had been seen leaving for the Great Northern Road not two hours before – the foolish couple had not even the sense to hire an unmarked vehicle, but in this instance their thoughtlessness was quite useful to their pursuers. Radcliffe did not think much of the Montagu carriage against his own horses, and it was not impossible that they should catch up. He gritted his teeth, wanting to wring the Montagu fool’s neck. What a scheme indeed. The Montagu family would not countenance this match in a thousand years. And especially not once Miss Cecily and Montagu had spent several nights of the journey together, unmarried. Had they imagined they would make it to Scotland in one night? At best, they might quietly seek an annulment to hush up the scandal – but even this would surely besmirch the Talbot name quite thoroughly, while the Montagus would be able to sail on, unmarred. Mr Pemberton would surely end his engagement to Miss Talbot, out of shame, and though he could not think of anything less he wanted than to see this man married to Miss Talbot, he could not bear to imagine her suffering such a fate.

He turned a corner, and slowed his horse, seeing a dark shape ahead of him. Radcliffe squinted into the black night, barely able to see more than a few feet ahead, but as he rode closer, he was able to make out what looked like a carriage.

‘Anyone there?’ he called into the darkness, but his shout was carried off by the wind as easily as if it had been a whisper.

He trotted up to it, and as he approached, saw that the vehicle was damaged, one wheel lying several feet away from its body, another still attached but quite askew – its spikes crushed. And worse – much worse – as Radcliffe got close enough to see the whole vehicle properly beneath the pitch-black sky, he could see the trunk of a tree splitting the carriage clean in half. It was crushed beneath the weight. Upon the carriage door, the Montagu crest glinted.

Radcliffe cursed. They can’t be far now, he told himself. Someone must have taken the horses from the spokes – they would be at the next inn, he was sure of it. He spared a moment to hope Lawrence would have sense enough not to let Sally see what remained of the carriage when they caught up, and moved his horse on. He did not allow himself to wonder what state Miss Cecily Talbot might be in when he found her.