Captive (27 page)

“Gladly, Lion. Only, what if I cannot find Charlotte?”

“Tell my grandmother. She will know what to do. If Charlotte has disappeared …”

Denbigh could not face that possibility. “Send word to me whatever you discover, Percy. I will want to know.”

“I will, Lion. Where do you think Braddock will take Olivia?” he asked.

“God, I don’t know!” There were a dozen places Braddock could take Olivia. Which one would he choose? “He won’t take her to his town house in London, or to his ladybird’s house, either. He knows I will go to both of those places.”

“He can drive in any direction out of London,” Percy said morosely. “How will you know which way to go?”

“A wolf returns to its den, a fox to its hole. He will go to Kent. It is where he was born and raised.”

“How do you know so much about him?” Percy marveled.

“I believe in knowing my enemy,” Lion said bitterly. “And I knew everything there was to know about James Somers before I killed him. I learned a great deal about his brother as a consequence. Braddock will go to the manor house in Somersville. You can send word to me at the Slaughtered Sheep. It is an inn there.”

“What if you’ve guessed wrong?” Percy asked.

“It will make no difference. Eventually, I will find Braddock. Or he will turn up with Olivia at his side, flaunting her as his mistress. Then, I will kill him.”

Charlotte had not gone directly back to the supper box. For a long time, she walked the dark byways of Vauxhall Gardens feeling numb inside. She had some decisions to make about what she wanted to do with her life, especially now that Lionel Morgan, Earl of Denbigh, was not going to be a part of it.

She came up with plenty of possibilities, but no real solutions. She needed help to escape him. And there were very few sources she thought she could rely on to come to her aid without exposing her to Denbigh. She made up her mind to approach at least one of them tonight before she went to sleep.

Assuming she could sleep.

Charlotte could not stop crying. It was a very unCharlottelike thing for her to be doing. Her nose kept running, and she knew her eyes were swollen and ugly. She was in no hurry to get back to the supper box until she could get her tears under control. She would never let Denbigh know she had cried over him.

The only reason she returned to the supper box as soon as she did was because she didn’t want to worry Olivia, who she knew would be frantic when Lion returned to the supper box without her.

She was therefore surprised, when she returned to the box, to find Olivia missing. She didn’t think Lion’s sister had gone home, because her crooked
staff was still lying on the floor of the box. But the box was empty. Where was everybody?

The answer was obvious.

Looking for her
.

She stayed at the supper box, knowing they would probably return to check on whether she had come back. While she waited, she thought of all the nasty things she was going to say to Denbigh if he dared to criticize her for putting everyone to so much trouble.

In the end, only Percy returned, and with a tale almost too fantastic to be believed.

“He says I am to take you home, and tell Her Grace, the Duchess of Trent, where he has gone,” he finished.

Charlotte could have argued with him, but she wanted to get home so she could think of what to do next. There had to be a way she could help Olivia. Even if it meant helping Denbigh in the process.

“Will he find Braddock?” Charlotte asked Percy, her heart in her throat.

As the carriage drew out of line and began the drive to Grosvenor Square, he shook his head. “I cannot guess whether he will or not, Lady Charlotte. He says Braddock will go to his manor in Somersville in Kent. But what if he does not? Braddock could take Lady Olivia anywhere, even to India. We might never know what happened to her.”

“Surely Braddock would not do anything so
drastic as to take Livy across oceans and continents.”

“Why not? Especially if his aim is to punish Denbigh for the death of Lord James.”

“We have to find out where Braddock has gone,” Charlotte said.

“How are we going to do that?” Percy said. “Braddock is not telling.”

“Maybe not. But his servants will know.”

“What?”

“His servants. Servants know everything. You English treat them as though they don’t exist, even though they are right there when you say the most personal things. As though they did not have eyes and ears to see and hear and tongues to speak again what was spoken in their presence.”

Percy looked at her goggle-eyed. “My valet—”

“Knows where you are tonight, where you were last night, and most likely where you are going tomorrow night,” Charlotte said.

Percy looked sheepish. “It is true, Lady Charlotte. Maybe there is something to what you say. And we have a way to contact Lion with whatever news we discover. I am to send any messages to him at the Slaughtered Sheep in Somersville.

“When I set you down in Grosvenor Square, I will go directly to Braddock’s town house and—”

“I’ll go with you,” Charlotte said.

“Lady Charlotte—”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Charlotte said. “My mind is made up.”

She nearly laughed at the woeful look on Percy’s face as he said, “Lion will kill me for allowing it.”

“Lion will thank you for saving Olivia,” Charlotte countered.

Percy’s face brightened. “I will be a hero.”

“Yes, you will,” Charlotte agreed.

“I have never been a hero. It will be a novel experience.
Percy to the rescue
. I rather like it,” he said with a smile.

As they were both soon to discover, although Braddock’s servants very likely knew all there was to know about his movements, they very definitely were not talking.

“That butler was almost rude to me,” Percy said when they were seated again in Denbigh’s carriage.

“It cannot be such a dead end as it looks. There must be some way to get them to tell us what they know,” Charlotte mused.

“Draw and quarter them,” Percy said. “Put them on the rack. Give them twenty lashes.”

“Spoken like a true hero,” Charlotte said sardonically.

“I have never been one. And I wanted to be,” Percy said, obviously disappointed that they had not succeeded in discovering Braddock’s direction.

They arrived at the Duke of Trent’s town house
not much later, and Charlotte said, “Don’t despair, Percy. You have been something very like a hero tonight.”

“What is that?” Percy asked.

“A good friend.”

“Thank you, Lady Charlotte. Don’t know why Denbigh doesn’t marry you. Always a kind word. Pretty. Plump in the pocket.” He flushed. “None of my business,” he said quickly.

“Good night, Percy,” Charlotte said with a kind smile, letting herself out of the carriage without waiting for him to hand her down. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Maybe you will discover some information that may be valuable.”

“Wait!” Percy said. “I am supposed to tell Her Grace—”

“I will tell the duchess what has happened. Thank you for bringing me home, Percy,” she said. “I know Lion would thank you himself if he were here. And Percy,”

“Yes, Lady Charlotte?”

“If we are going to be friends, you will have to call me Charlie.”

“Denbigh would not like it,” Percy replied.

In a soft, plaintive voice she said, “I would, Percy. And like the servants, though Denbigh may wish he could ignore me, I am still here, with eyes and ears and a tongue … and a will to be your friend.”

“I see what you mean,” Percy said. “Good night, Charlie.”

“Good night, Percy.” Charlotte turned and hurried up the stairs.

Charlotte knew exactly where to go to find the Duchess of Trent. Lion’s grandmother was an unapologetic bluestocking. Charlotte found her curled up in front of the fire in the library with a copy of the
Life of Nelson
by Robert Southey.

Charlotte had the fleeting thought that when the duchess was finished with the book she would loan it to Percy, so he could vicariously enjoy the exploits of a true British hero.

“Good evening, madam,” Charlotte said.

The duchess pulled off her reading spectacles and focused her eyes on Charlotte’s face. “You have been crying. What has that scapegrace grandson of mine done now?”

Charlotte dropped onto the footstool at the
duchess’s feet and said, “Braddock has stolen Livy.”

“Dear God,” the duchess said. “And Lion?”

“He has gone after them. He wanted you to know what had happened, and for you to tell the duke what you thought his heart would be able to bear.”

The duchess said nothing for a few moments, merely watched her shift uncomfortably on the stool, then asked, “What has you so upset, Charlie? Is it Livy? Or is it something else?”

“Lion and I have parted ways.”

“What, exactly, does that mean?” the duchess asked.

“I have cried off our engagement. An announcement will need to be sent to the
Times
.”

“Not right away, I hope,” the duchess said. “At least not before Livy is safely home.”

Charlotte frowned.

“It will draw too much attention in our direction,” the duchess explained, “and require uncomfortable answers when callers arrive, and we have no explanation for Livy’s absence.”

“I see,” Charlotte said. “I thought you might be hoping to talk me out of giving him up.”

The duchess was quiet again. “You know your own mind, dear. If you no longer love Lion—”

“I never said that!” Charlotte protested. “It is only that
he
does not love
me
.”

The duchess sighed and set her spectacles down on her book. She brushed aside a few wispy curls that had fallen onto Charlotte’s forehead. “I have never told you why I did not marry your father, have I?”

Charlotte shook her head.

“Perhaps it is time,” the duchess said. “Or maybe past time,” she murmured. “Your father, Montgomery, and I were once much like you and Lion. I was younger than him, and Monty thought he knew what was best for me. I was a strong-headed chit determined to do things my own way. Monty always insisted on taking the lead and making the decisions.”

“Then you know how frustrating it is!” Charlotte said.

“Oh, my, yes,” the duchess said. “We brangled and wrangled and fought. What we never did was compromise.”

“Compromise?”

“We did not yield a jot to one another. I insisted on my own way. He insisted on his. Then Arthur came along.”

“And he let you have your own way?”

“In everything,” the duchess said.

“And you liked that better?”

“At the time I did. I broke off with your father and got engaged to Arthur.”

“And have lived happily ever after,” Charlotte
said, a frown furrowing her brow. “Are you saying I will find someone besides Lion who will make me happy?”

“No, no. You are missing the whole point of the story,” the duchess said. “I have learned in the many, many years since I married Arthur, that while it is pleasant to have one’s own way without argument, life is not nearly so interesting that way. And while I love Arthur, I was never
in love
with him.

“I have never experienced with Arthur the passion I shared with your father. It remained a passion of the heart, since we never had the opportunity to share our bodies. The one great regret of my life is that I did not know enough to recognize the other half of myself before he took himself halfway around the world and married another woman.”

“My mother,” Charlotte breathed.

The duchess nodded. “Once Monty was married, I married Arthur. I have been content, my dear. I have been happy. But there is an empty place inside me that was never filled. And now, never will be.

“If you love Lion as I loved your father, if he is the other half of you, then you must find a way to yield to him what you can yield.”

“But he wants to change me into someone else entirely. I cannot, madam. I cannot be what he wants me to be!”

“Then I’m sorry, child,” the duchess said. “For both of you.”

Charlotte stared at the duchess with stark eyes. She felt a sob building in her throat, and fled the room, rather than shed hopeless tears over Lion in the presence of his grandmother.

She ran up the stairs two at a time, not caring who saw her, and several of the servants did. She raced down the hall to her room and shut the door behind her and threw herself on the bed, pressing her face against the coverlet to drown the sounds of despair she was making.

Lion
was
the other half of her. But she could not give up the essence of herself, even to be with him. If he made her into someone else, the two halves that should have fit together, his and hers, no longer would.

“Charlie?”

When Charlotte first heard the female voice, she thought for one brief second it was Olivia. She shoved herself up off the bed and saw—Sally.

“Hello, Sally,” she said, turning her face away to hide her tears.

“Stiles had the housekeeper come find me,” Sally said. “He’s worried about you, Charlie.”

“Tell him I’m fine, Sally.”

“But you aren’t,” Sally pointed out.