The Secret Pearl(25)

Lord Brocklehurst shuddered slightly. “Find Lord Thomas Kent for me,” he said, “or find me a way of appearing at that house without seeming to be a complete imbecile, and your job will be at an end. I’ll do the bringing back.”

“Then all you need to do, sir, is go down there and fetch her,” Mr. Snedburg said, wiping the back of his neck and eyeing the decanters on the sideboard with a decidedly wistful air. “You don’t need no excooses when the dook’s governess is a murderer and a jewel thief.”

“Thank you.” Lord Brocklehurst fixed the Runner with a cold eye. “I shall do this in my own way. Bring me the information I want and I will settle with you.”

“There is to be a party at Willoughby Hall,” the Runner said, “by all accounts, sir. I shall get you a list of the guests and which of them are in London and have not left yet.”

“As soon as possible, if you please,” Lord Brocklehurst said, brightening. He rose dismissively.

“You may depend upon it, sir,” Mr. Snedburg said. “And if Lord Thomas is in England, I shall ferret him out.”

Lord Brocklehurst crossed the room to pour himself a drink when he was alone again, and stood with the decanter in his hands, staring frowningly at it.

She had to be Isabella. But working as governess to the Duke of Ridgeway? And hired by his secretary, who had sat at that agency for four days waiting just for her?

What the devil was going on? If Ridgeway or anyone else had laid a hand on her … His hand tightened on the decanter.

He was going to find her. She was going to see things his way if it was the last thing he ever accomplished. Now, of course, she would have little choice but to view things as he did. Not that he had ever wanted to threaten her. He had never thought it would be necessary.

Foolish woman. He had always been amazed by her stubbornness. He had not been able to understand her reasoning. Of course, women in love were never reasonable. And she had fancied herself in love with that milksop Daniel Booth. Though what Isabella had seen in a clergyman who was still only a curate, it was impossible to say. Long limbs, blond curls, and blue eyes—he supposed they must be enough for a woman who did not know what was good for her.

He closed his eyes and thought of Isabella’s sunset-gold hair, felt his fingers twined in its silkiness, smelled its fragrance.

Damnation, but he had her where he wanted her now, and she would be made to see it. If he had to start threatening, then he would do so. A dangling noose did not make a comfortable mental image. He would make it up to her later.


IT ANGERED THE DUKE of Ridgeway, standing on the upper terrace outside his house early on the morning after his arrival and looking out over the park that was almost everything of home to him, to know that it was all to be invaded in two days’ time.

He loved to entertain at Willoughby. He loved to host concerts and grand balls when possible and to entertain his neighbors to dinner and cards or conversation. He even enjoyed having the occasional overnight guest. But he hated having a houseful of people who looked for nothing but gay and mindless entertainment—Sybil’s type of people. And he had seen the guest list. This occasion was to be no exception to the general rule.

He loved the peace and quiet of his home almost more than anything else in his life. And that was to be shattered for goodness knew how long. Sybil’s guests never knew quite when to leave once they had come.

He strolled across the terrace and along the side of the house to the lawns at the back and the kitchen garden and greenhouses.

What he would not give for his freedom, he thought in an unguarded moment, and immediately had a mental image of Pamela and her excitement over her dog, which she had insisted on calling Tiny, though he had explained to her that the puppy would grow. And he thought of her sleepy face and tumbled hair when he had gone to her the night before, not realizing that she would be in bed already. He thought of her warm clinging arms and her wet kiss and her question.

“You won’t go away again, Papa?”

“I will be here for a good long while,” he had assured her.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he had said, hugging the slight little body and kissing her. “Go to sleep now. I will see you tomorrow.”

No. A child had a right to a secure home and two parents even if they were not model parents by any stretch of the imagination. He had been wrong to leave her for so long merely for the sake of his own peace of mind.

He drew to a halt. There was a woman strolling past the massive flowerbeds, where the house flowers were grown.

She was not quite as he remembered her. In fact, when he had looked at her the afternoon before, his first impression had been that Houghton had made a mistake and engaged the wrong woman. But it was she, of course. He had seen that on a closer look.