Hunting the Hero (29 page)

“It does when the Duke of Romsey, and possibly his son, were responsible for the deaths of our parents. They arranged the murder and our separation to keep us in their control, but Tobias unfortunately was too young to remember where he and Rosemary met with foul play and were parted.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

Mercy squeezed his arm tightly. “Constantine, what is it? Have you seen her?”

Constantine held Randall’s gaze. There had to be something tangible to prove Meredith was not Rosemary Randall. “Does she have any distinguishing marks?”

“None that I’m aware of. However, I’m her brother and have never seen her without the modesty of clothes.” He pursed his lips a moment. “Aside from a temper and a love of mean-spirited dogs, Rosemary was much like any young woman on the verge of coming out. She was rather fond of gemstones at one time. Garnets, I believe, were her favorite.”

Constantine closed his eyes. “Meredith.”

“What?”

“I fear the woman you are looking for goes by many names, but I know her currently as Meredith Clark. My governess.”

“Your lover,” Leopold Randall growled, arm hitching back.

The blow to his jaw, when it came, was well deserved.

CHAPTER 25

ROSEMARY WAS DYING. She was sure of it. As morning’s faint light spread over the sleeping village, her stomach roiled again. She clutched the blankets against her chest as a moan escaped her and she prayed not to be sick again. It would be impossible to endure a long carriage journey if she was casting up her accounts every few minutes. This time she wouldn’t have to call upon one scrap of acting ability to prove herself unequal to the challenge of getting out of bed. She’d feigned a poorly condition to make Constantine leave her behind, but now she truly was suffering. She had never felt this way before.

Mrs. Lambs voice came through the door. “Are you awake, Miss Clark?”

“Please come in,” she croaked, grateful that finally someone had come. She was so tired of being alone and miserable.

 
“Here you are now, dearie. Got a nice cup a tea and spot of bread to soothe your poor stomach. These things can hit us hard, but you’ll feel better soon.”

“I couldn’t…” Rosemary shook her head. “How did you know about my stomach?”

“I have ears. I’ve been listening to you retch since before the sun came up.” Mrs. Lamb placed a small tray beside the bed. “Sit up now and I’ll do my best to make you more comfortable.”

With the Mrs. Lamb’s help, she sat up and then leaned against the freshly plumped pillows. Meredith hadn’t felt so cosseted in a long time. Mrs. Lamb pressed bread into her hands. “Nibble this slowly.”

While Mrs. Lamb took care of the soiled chamber pot, Rosemary looked at the hunk and then raised it to her mouth. She tried not to think of anything as she drew in a breath of fresh air. When her stomach roiled, she made the first bite very small.
 

She closed her eyes and swallowed the dry lump. Tears filled her eyes. How ridiculous to be laid low on a day she should be busy. She had to get up and dressed, pack her things, and start over. It had taken all night, but she had decided Mrs. Evelyn Lynch would be her new name. A pity she had no references to give weight to her claim to be a governess, but she could always say she was a mother and had lost her children to illness. That would be somewhat true. She would always think of Constantine’s daughters as hers.
 

Rosemary opened her eyes to find Mrs. Lamb was watching her. “Tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”
 

When the woman handed it over, there was pity in her eyes. “Like that is it? He broke your heart and left you behind.”
 

“I’m not heartbroken.” Rosemary quickly swallowed some of the tea and handed back the cup and saucer. The hot liquid did nothing to ease the ache and she slumped against the pillows, wishing Constantine had never revealed his connections. “I’m ill.”

How annoying to remember Constantine so clearly now that he was long gone. The way he smiled, the way he was always trying to learn something new about her that she didn’t want to reveal. How ridiculous to want to feel his hands upon her again and tell him the truth, given he was related to the Duke of Romsey.
 

They had no future together.
 

Mrs. Lamb sighed dramatically. “These lords can turn a girl’s head so easily. They promise the world and leave your belly full. I thought Lord Grayling a little different by the way he fretted for your welfare yesterday. But I see my first suspicion was correct. When is the babe due?”

Rosemary stilled as shock set in. “I’m not with child.”
 

“Oh, I think time will tell that you are. It may be cruel, but I could wave a raw mutton chop beneath your nose and make your stomach turn over. There is no sense pretending the worst hasn’t happened.”

Rosemary held her stomach as the mere mention of meat sent her nausea soaring.

Mrs. Lamb smiled kindly. “I can see a carriage in the distance, so I’d better return below. I’ll send a tray up for you to consider if you’re well enough to eat any of it in my absence and check on you again when they’re gone, my dear. When I come back, we can talk about what you must do. For all his kind words yesterday, I doubt Grayling will be sympathetic. Forgive me for saying this, but he won’t be marrying someone not of his level.”

 
Rosemary pulled the covers up to her nose as a shudder filled her. “Never expected him to.”

A babe changed nothing. She knew what to do to remedy herself of that condition. With no home, no future, she had only one choice. Constantine would never know.

He’d only wanted her for pleasure. She and Constantine were remarkably alike in that. When they’d met, neither had wanted more. Yet the longer they’d stayed together, the greater that pleasure had become. Even his children had been no barrier to her contentment. A contentment that ended when she learned his connections.

It was a shame she’d never see him again. He’d become the closest thing to a friend she’d had in a decade. She could think on that when this inn was a distant memory.
 

Rosemary climbed from bed and slipped into a day gown. She might not feel herself completely, but she had to be ready to get on that mail coach. The buttons on her gown proved a little difficult since she had to keep stopping when assailed by nausea.
 

When she was decently covered, she sat to fasten her half boots. As she lifted her head, the sounds of a carriage drawing up outside filled the room. Fearing it was the mail coach come early, Rosemary hurried to the window. The crest on the door blazed with the carriage owner’s identity.

Romsey
.

Rosemary picked up her skirts and ran.

~ * ~

“Are you sure this is the right place,” Leopold demanded of Constantine as the carriage rolled to a stop in the sleepy little village he’d stayed in the night before. Being questioned so often, and in such a condescending manner, during the long hours of the night had removed any lingering guilt he felt over making love to the man’s sister before they married.

Leopold Randall had no reason to scold him anyway after what he’d discovered about the young Duke of Romsey’s conception. Only a fool would claim the higher ground. They had each lain with the other’s sister before they ever intended to marry them.

Although Constantine would like nothing better than to scowl, he thought better of it. His jaw hurt like the very devil from the blow he’d received from his brother-in-law’s fist every time he clenched it. “I always break my journey to Romsey here,” he said carefully. “Another few minutes and you’ll see her for yourself.”

He cupped his jaw as pain spiked. Even talking a small amount hurt, and he was rather annoyed that no one else seemed the least bit concerned for his well-being. He could have lost a tooth. Maybe Rosemary would tenderly soothe him into a better frame of mind.

Spending the night in close quarters with three Randall men had not been the most comfortable night of his life. Although he hadn’t argued, he had not been given much of a voice on the decision to return to the inn. He’d been spared a few precious minutes to tell Willow he was on his way to fetch her favorite governess and that had been all the concession he’d been given.
 

Yet for all the Randalls’ silent scrutiny, he was rather glad they kept their questioning to a minimum, because he didn’t think it fair to be accused of wrongdoing when Calista, Meredith, or rather Rosemary, had never had an honest conversation with him since they met. How was he to have deduced that the willful, wicked woman he’d made love to was a woman with an excellent pedigree, outstanding connections, and more suited to a ballroom than a brothel?

He’d never had her real name, although he had known that from the very beginning.

It took a brave woman to lie so boldly as she gave her body to yet another man. At least under the guise of being his governess, her family might be spared the knowledge of the rest of her past.

When the carriage steps were finally dropped, Randall was first out the door. Constantine followed, stepping out onto the familiar street. “This way,” he called and then smiled at the inn’s proprietor as he approached. “I’ve returned for my governess, Mr. Lamb.”

“So I see.” Mr. Lamb ducked back inside the inn, calling for his wife.

The brothers departed the coach and the younger one paled.
 

“Do you remember the place, Tobias,” Oliver asked quickly.
 

The youngest Randall looked up and down the street and then he pointed. Dense smoke hung around the building he indicated. “We went to the smithy for help, the accident must have occurred some distance beyond that on the far side of the village. I don’t remember much else.”
 

Constantine’s pulse quickened. Tobias’s reaction was almost the same as Meredith’s—curse his tongue, Rosemary—yesterday. Despite the lies and deception, he was rather keen to see her again. The younger Randall might believe they were near the scene of the crime that had robbed them of their parents, but Constantine wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard the truth from her own lips.

His steps quickened as he hurried inside the dimly lit interior, and sweeping his hat from his head, he found the innkeeper’s wife waiting, hands on her hips and a surprisingly hostile glint in her eye. “Back so soon?”

He ignored her sarcasm. “I’ve come for Miss Clark.”

Randall burst through the door. “Where’s Rosemary?”
 

The woman’s brow rose. “Rosemary? There’s no Rosemary here.”

Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose. If Randall wasn’t careful, he’d let everyone know Rosemary Randall was a fallen woman. He didn’t think she’d appreciate that. “Miss Clark. My governess fell ill and wished to remain behind. The children would not rest until she rejoined them, so I’ve come to fetch her.”

“You almost missed her. She didn’t hold out the least bit of hope for your return. In her condition, I don’t blame her.” The innkeeper’s wife shrugged. “Same room as last night.”

Constantine pondered her words as he took the stairs two at a time, navigating the narrow staircase and hallway so he could reach Rosemary first. He pushed open the door and froze.

The room was empty. He glanced back into the hall and determined that yes, he had come to the right room. The bed was still rumpled. “Rosemary?”

Leopold barged past him. “Where the hell is she?”

“As if I know.” Constantine searched the room, wondering if Rosemary had adopted Maisy’s habit of hiding beneath and behind furnishing.
 

He ducked his head to check under the bed and discovered her luggage had been stowed beneath. He dragged the case out and set it on the bed. When he opened it, everything he knew she owned was still there. “She cannot be far.”

He strode from the room, shouting for the innkeeper’s wife as he went. “You said we almost missed her and it seems we have. Where could she have gone?”

“But I just left her a moment before your carriage arrived.” The woman frowned. “She was to catch the mail coach this morning, but it’s not come yet. I’m surprised Miss Clark’s out of bed, frankly. She’s been casting up her accounts since before daybreak.”

“She truly is ill? I thought perhaps…”
 

“You thought she’d what? Be all noble and run away before you came this way again? That she’d spare you the embarrassment of getting a bastard on her?”

“What did you say?” Constantine towered over her as dread filled him. Rosemary had once promised she could take care of any indiscretions and the thought of her plans filled him with fear. “Is she with child?”

“That is what I said, although she denies it’s possible.” Mrs. Lamb shook her head. “If she’s not in her room, perhaps she’s gone to confess her sins to the vicar. She’s already visited the graveyard.”
 

Their sins. He was as much to blame for what had happened between them as she was. He strode out the front door and onto the street. “Where’s the vicarage?”