The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(63)

“How can we possibly help you?” Mrs. Grey asked anxiously. “Caroline is not here.”

“I know. I came on her behalf because she seemed to believe Peter here to be…very ill.”

“He has had such a terrible chill,” the beautiful Mrs. Dauntry said a shade nervously.

“But that was weeks ago,” her mother said. “He has been fine since. I wrote to Caroline and told her so.” She frowned. “Though, do you know, I may have sent it to Braithwaite Castle! I am so scatter-brained…perhaps she never received it?”

“Oh, no, she received that letter. It was sent over from the castle. No, this was a later one, from Mrs. Dauntry. I believe monies were required to pay the doctor? Because Peter had relapsed.”

Mrs. Dauntry cast a glance at her mother, half-imploring, half-frightened. “Oh no…that is, I was afraid he might…” As though recollecting herself, she cast a dazzling smile at Javan. “But sir, you are amazingly kind to take up my sister’s cause and come here in her stead. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

Mrs. Grey didn’t look grateful. She looked confused and not a little put-out.

Javan inclined his head slightly and waited.

“Please, sit down,” Mrs. Dauntry urged. “Will you have tea?”

He met her gaze and read there the confidence of a beautiful woman who knew she could bamboozle and win whichever man she liked. What was it she’d wanted the money for? Another new gown with which to seduce the local gentlemen? Or just a better class of dinners? Clearly, it had never been for Peter. The mother knew it and was not best pleased. Which said something for her. Just not enough in Javan’s opinion.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I won’t have tea. I came really, to bring you news of Miss Grey. Since neither of you have asked, it is my duty to inform you that she is not currently well. She left my house in desperate haste to see Peter and was injured on the journey. She currently lies at an inn near Carlisle, in the care of my sister. The direction is written on the back of my card, should you need it. Good morning.”

“Wait!” moaned Mrs. Grey. “Sir, what has happened to Caroline? You must tell me!”

“She was shot,” Javan said brutally, and was only slightly mollified to see the sister whiten as she sat down too quickly.

“Shot!” the mother exclaimed. “Dear God!”

“Will she die?” Mrs. Dauntry whispered.

Javan relented. “No, I don’t believe so. I have some experience of gunshot wounds and providing we can avoid corruption, I believe she will recover well. But I am glad to be able to relieve her mind over Peter.”

“What were you thinking of, Eliza?” the mother burst out. “Do you think a governess earns so much—?”

“I was selfish,” Mrs. Dauntry whispered, bowing her head. “You know I have been dull since I returned from Edinburgh and…and I so wish I hadn’t written that stupid letter. Truly, I did not think it would matter. This is all my fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Grey snapped. “Go and pack your bag and Peter’s—one bag, Eliza! Sir, might we request your escort to my daughter? If you are returning there.”

“I am. And I would be happy to escort you. I believe we can hire a chaise for you at the Rose and Thistle.”

“Then we shall meet you there,” Mrs. Grey said decisively. “We can borrow a conveyance that far at least and I know you are riding.”

He bowed again, and began to walk away, but to his surprise, she caught his arm. “Sir, I thank you for your care of my daughter.”

“It is the least I can do, ma’am. Her condition is more my fault than yours.”

A frown flickered across her face at that. “I don’t know how that may be. But you must find us selfish and neglectful. In truth, we have grown to rely too much on Caroline. She was always our strength, and Eliza has always been too indulged…that is my fault, for I imagined she would make a splendid marriage which would save us from penury when my husband died. But in truth, there is no excuse for her writing such a lie to Caroline.”

“I do not judge either of you, ma’am,” Javan said, not entirely truthfully.

“Thank you, for Eliza is not truly bad-natured. Just impulsive and inclined to selfishness, as are we all.”

“As are we all,” he agreed. He smiled faintly. “Except for Caroline.”





Chapter Eighteen





Alone in the inn’s coffee room, Javan wished he had never agreed to escort Caroline’s family. By four o’clock, they still had not arrived at the Rose and Thistle. It would be too late to start out now, especially with the child. He almost went alone, for his need to see Caroline all but overwhelmed him. However, being a man of his word, he resolved to leave it until evening and then send over a note to the effect that he would leave at first light, with or without them.

The matter was no sooner decided than he heard the rumble of a vehicle entering the inn yard. Rising to his feet, he walked to the window.

Not one carriage, but two were crossing the yard. Moreover, the first was only too familiar and driven by Williams, who jumped down as soon as the horses came to a standstill. Leaving them to the ostlers hurrying toward them, he opened the carriage door and let down the steps.