The Princess and the Peer(73)
None of the other remaining house servants knew anything either, and so, defeated, he withdrew.
He’d searched for her himself, returning to the various locations they had visited during her stay, but he had no luck. He went to the street where they’d met that first day in Covent Garden, scouring the shop stalls and questioning the vendors, but no one knew anything about her. He even tried the various coaching inns, trying to ascertain if she’d bought passage on any of the mail coaches leaving the city.
Again, nothing.
It was as if she had vanished.
Finally, in a last, likely futile effort, he’d asked Goldfinch and Cooper to search again, to retrace his steps and find out if there were any clues he’d missed, anyone who might have even a shred of information about her that they had not been willing to share with him. His former crewmen were skilled at ferreting out secrets others tried to hide; if they couldn’t learn anything useful about Emma’s whereabouts, no one could.
His spirits sank low, and Nick faced the sad truth that his search for her was over. There was nothing more left to try.
Emma was well and truly gone, and clearly that was how she wished it.
In need of a distraction, he and Goldfinch talked about other matters for a few minutes more. When that conversational gambit expired, the toughened seaman rose to his feet and bade Nick what he recognized was an overly hearty good day. Nick smiled and shook Goldfinch’s hand, but his false cheer was all for show.
Once alone, he leaned back in his chair and let his mind run, his thoughts tumbling one over the other, each one darker and more depressing than the last.
Bah! What he ought to do was leave, close up the town house and make the journey to Lynd Park. The Lancashire countryside would be particularly serene this time of year—the hills covered in frost and early snow, the lakes chill enough to sparkle with a thin glaze of morning ice.
There he could walk.
Ride his horses.
Sail when the weather allowed.
He could think and breathe and find some way to forget.
As it stood, every room in the town house reminded him of her. He couldn’t go into the library now at all for fear of losing himself in memories of their one and only night together, of thinking about the future of which he’d once dreamed, and the life he knew would never come to pass.
Even Aunt Felicity had shaken off the dust of the city and made her way into the countryside, where she would pass the upcoming holiday season in the company of friends.
She had been surprised and a little perplexed by the abruptness of Emma’s departure, but unlike him, Emma’s letter had not distressed her. On the contrary, she had found Emma’s words most eloquent and thoughtful, talking of her with a warmth that bespoke real fondness.
“I am most sorry to see her go,” his aunt had said on that first evening after Emma left. “Mayhap she will find some means of visiting us again. In the spring, perhaps?”
He hadn’t had the heart to tell her it was doubtful that she would ever see Emma again. He hadn’t been able to voice the fear that she had walked out of their lives and might never return again.
Where is she? he wondered for the thousandth time. Why did she go?
Cursing under his breath, he tossed back the last of the whiskey in his glass, relishing the burn it left behind in his throat. As he did, his gaze fell on the invitation he’d received and the royal crest embellished in gold on the heavy stationery.
His presence, it would seem, was requested at a court dress ball—demanded, more like. If it were up to him, he would send his excuses, but one did not refuse an invitation issued by the royal family. Frankly, if it weren’t for his upcoming investiture as earl, he might still have taken the chance of refusing. Yet every time he thought of turning his back on the proceedings, Peter’s face would pop into his mind, disappointment shadowing his features.
At least the bloody thing was tomorrow night. He would get it over with, make his official bow at court, then close up the house. No one would fault him for leaving the city at this time of year. Just like Aunt Felicity, many of the Ton were already ensconced in the warmth of their country estates, where they planned to share the holidays with family and friends.
He had little family of his own left, but suddenly he truly longed to return to Lynd Park. He hadn’t been there in years. Not since before he’d quarreled with his father. Not since Peter had died. He’d been avoiding the trip up to now, reluctant to revisit uncomfortable old memories. But there had been good times in his youth at Lynd Park, years of joy and laughter before all the discord had driven him from its walls. Perhaps he would find peace there now that he was a man grown. Maybe he would take comfort in the familiar.