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Authors: Emily Hendrickson

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BOOK: The Dashing Miss Fairchild
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When he took her beautifully gloved hand in his to study the slender fingers encased in finest leather, Clare's gaze jumped to meet his. She tugged at her hand to no avail.

"When you speak to me, I would see those lovely eyes, my dear Clare.'’ He held his breath, aware he had overstepped the boundary she had established.

She dropped those long golden lashes with a hint of smoke tipping the ends before raising them to reveal penitent eyes. “Forgive me. My manners are sadly lacking. I shall blame it on the hectic pace of the past week or so, if I may?"

He flashed her a derisive look, but released her hand, for she had apologized so handsomely he could do no less.

In Manton they found no evidence of a stranger in the area. Clare admitted it might be best for Mr. Talbot to investigate the tavern while she prowled a bit in the village shop. It was a curious place, a repository for everything from bread, shoes, and tea, to cheese, ribands, and bacon. There was a pleasant smell of spice and other intriguing aromas in the air. She suspected that little went on in the vicinity that missed the eyes and ears of the proprietress.

"Nothing?” Mr. Talbot inquired as he joined Clare in the coach.

"Not a clue,” she replied, offering him a small paper twist of comfits she had decided to purchase as her excuse for venturing into the shop.

Fyfield offered no better fare, though slightly larger in size. The Bell Inn proved a substantial place, clean and neat, with fresh muslin curtains at the windows and excellent home-brewed ale. Mr. Talbot partook of the latter, while Clare enjoyed another of her comfits and wondered if the day was degenerating into a total loss.

West Overton was by far the largest of the villages between Marlborough and Devizes. The coach jounced and jostled over the cobbled streets to the inn at the center of the town. As before, Clare went to the village shop, while Mr. Talbot took himself off to the Rose and Crown.

"A true gentleman,” Priddy said as she admired his stride across the road and along the far side.

"Come, we have better to do than admire such as him,” chided Clare, refusing to admit she found the sight appealing. If Priddy knew how far from a perfect gentleman Mr. Talbot truly was, she would be shocked to the core of her spinster heart.

Clare paused before entering the shop, wondering if that was what ailed her—a spinster heart, whatever that might be. Then she doubted if the longings and aches she endured differed greatly from those of any other young woman and went inside. Within a brief time, she returned to the coach and Mr. Talbot.

"I believe we have found her. A young woman answering to the description I gave the shopkeeper lives not far from here. If we go left at the next lane and five houses down, we shall find a pretty cottage with foxglove and daisies to either side of the door. That is where she will be.” Clare faced Mr. Talbot with a triumphant expression, not displeased to report success before he could say a word.

"Shall I tell you what I discovered or keep it to myself, I wonder,” Richard replied.

"Come, let us not waste a moment. You may explain as we go."

She bustled him off along the street to the next corner, then marched him along to the fifth house, where a lovely little garden bloomed just as promised.

Along the way, Richard rapidly told that he had found similar news, of a young woman come to live with her old friend and the sad news of the loss of her baby. Although one old fellow said it was a blessing, seeing as how the two women scarcely had two pennies to rub together.

"I hope we are in time to offer some relief,” Clare said, frowning at the thought of Lady Millsham in abject poverty.

The cottage might be tiny, but it proved to be spotlessly clean. The white-haired woman who answered the knock at the door studied the three before her with shrewd eyes. “Come in. Come in. People to see you, my lady."

The elderly nurse turned to face a door at the far end of the little room. A rustle of muslin accompanied a young woman into the room, her look of dismay revealing a great deal to those who watched.

"Mrs. Dow, I asked you not...” Her voice faded away to nothing as she halted after she discovered the identity of those who had come. “Oh, dear.” She bowed her head and burst into a flood of tears, murmuring something to the effect that all was lost and her efforts for naught. Some moments passed before Mrs. Dow soothed her into a chair.

The nurse gestured to the guests to seat themselves while Lady Millsham composed herself, her hands twisting the damp handkerchief she had used to blot her tears.

"Jane, Lady Millsham, that is, we are come to fetch you to join your son. He is safe for the moment, but I fear for him. He needs you. We think it best if you come with us to where he is in Bath."

Lady Millsham fainted dead away.

Chapter Eleven

"Lord-a-mercy!” exclaimed Mrs. Dow, her several chins all quivering with horror. She wrung her hands anxiously as Clare rushed to Lady Millsham's side.

"Water,'’ Clare demanded while chaffing the young woman's wrists. She inwardly scolded herself for revealing her own fears so abruptly. How foolish to frighten a girl who must be already terrified, if Clare's conjectures were correct.

"I believe this will be more the thing,” Mr. Talbot said as he held a small glass of cordial, all that Mrs. Dow had to offer in the way of restoratives.

Impatiently taking the glass, Clare held it up to Lady Millsham's lips, pleased when the young woman sputtered and opened her eyes once again.

"Oh, I am so sorry,” Lady Millsham murmured. “I had so hoped that if I hid and provided a place for William, all would be well. I thought the new earl would take himself off to London or the Continent, and I would be safe."

"I see,” Clare said, glancing at Mr. Talbot, her eyes steady and worried. “Suppose you sit over here in this comfortable chair and explain how this situation came to be.” She helped Lady Millsham to a small armchair, easing her down, then insisted she finish the cordial before attempting to relate her tale.

Richard sipped the glass of cordial he had poured for himself, retreating to the background and watching the women's faces.

"Sometime after I married,” Lady Millsham began, “my husband's cousin came to pay us a visit. On the surface he seemed a nice enough person. But as time passed, I noticed little things about him, unpleasant things that I won't bore you with, but that gave me reason to believe he was someone I wished far away. My husband laughed at my fanciful notions."

She stared out of the window of the tiny room, as though seeing once again the vast acres of Millsham Hall, the rooms where she had lived so briefly. A shaft of sunlight caressed her face, revealing the grief that had etched itself around her eyes. She dropped her gaze to her lap, studying her folded hands.

"I thought his cousin became overly friendly with several of the grooms, yet my husband considered my fears nonsense. And then one day they went out riding. The weather was excellent, the horse my husband's favorite. There was no reason for the accident. I strongly suspect the gear was tampered with in some manner. I was never allowed to see the saddle or anything to do with the horse. It was considered far too upsetting for a new widow. Only later did I come to suspect foul play. When I eventually made my way to the stables, the saddle and gear had disappeared. I thought that exceedingly odd."

"Is that why you fled Millsham Hall? That you feared the new earl would do away with you as well?” Clare perched on the edge of a small chair close to Lady Millsham's side.

"I was breeding at the time of my husband's death. At first I expected to live at the Dower House. Then the earl became far too interested in me and my condition. Oh, he did not know for certain, mind you. I imagine he wished to make sure that there would be no issue to threaten his position. Perhaps I was fanciful again, but my suspicions forced me to find another residence. The only person I dared to trust was my old nurse, Mrs. Dow. I feared the housekeeper and the other servants had all transferred their allegiance to the new earl."

"And you had the baby here?"

"Aye,” Mrs. Dow said in a firm tone, more herself now her darling girl seemed restored. “A fine healthy boy, he was and is, I trust?” Her fears for the baby were relieved by Clare's smile and nod.

"William is still healthy and growing fast.'’ Clare wondered how she might persuade Lady Millsham to come with them to Bath.

"He is a good baby? It near broke my heart to part with him. I had felt I was safe here. Then I saw one of the grooms nosing about the village. Recalling how he had seemed to be under the new earl's influence, I hid away, not taking the baby out at all. I feared it but a matter of time when someone would discover us. I thought and thought about what to do.” She took a deep breath and glanced at Mrs. Dow, as though seeking strength.

"That was when I conceived the idea of placing him with someone I could trust. When Mrs. Dow told of seeing you at the Castle Inn, I felt it was my chance to keep William safe. I remembered that you have numerous nieces and nephews, and heard that you spoke of them in a loving way. We had been planning this for some time, you see, waiting for the right moment, the proper person."

"You must have been quite terrified,” Clare said in a soothing voice, noting absently that Mr. Talbot had maintained a peculiar silence all the while. She glanced his way, seeing only that his color seemed off, that he sat rather rigidly in his chair. Turning back to Lady Millsham, she urged her to continue.

"You see, if the earl did come here, he would find me alone, but for Mrs. Dow. I could say that I found the Dower House too drafty, or dark, or not to my liking, and that I far preferred the quiet life of the village. He could not really argue with that. Once he was satisfied that there appeared to be no child, he would leave me alone."

"But, my lady,” Mr. Talbot said, speaking for the first time, “your son is the new seventh earl. It is wrong for this impostor to take his place."

"I do not care a fig for ‘place.’ If William were acclaimed the new earl, I suspect he would not live long. I prefer a live son to a dead earl, sir.” Her spirited words brought a nod of approval from both Clare and Mr. Talbot.

"I hesitate to frighten you further, but the Earl of Millsham is in Bath at the moment. And someone tried to take William from Jenny—she's the wet nurse, as I suspect you may know—while she walked with him in the Sydney Gardens. Thanks to Mr. Talbot, the attempt failed. I had ordered a groom to be with Jenny whenever she left the house, but this was countermanded while I was off to see your mother.” Clare reached out to cover Lady Millsham's trembling hands with her own.

"How did you know who was involved?"

So Clare explained the series of events that had brought them to the cottage in West Overton, severely editing the account. The visit with Lady Knowlton, the attacks on Clare, as well as the subsequently ruined bonnets, and the conversation with Mrs. Caswell were either omitted or sharply abbreviated. The moments spent in Richard Talbot's arms Clare tried not to think about.

"I beg you to pack your things and come with us to Bath. The time has come for you to be with your son. If the Earl of Millsham harbors some fool notions about doing away with little William, the more of us around the baby, the better. Please, come with us?"

Lady Millsham exchanged a long look with Mrs. Dow, then nodded. “I shall come with you. I can see that leaving him alone will not do. Indeed, my heart leaps with gladness at the very thought of seeing his dear face once again.'’ She rose from the little chair, taking Clare's hand as she, too, rose. “I shall pack and be prepared to depart whenever you say."

They made arrangements to return in two hours, then Clare joined Mr. Talbot on a slow walk back to where Priddy and the others waited for them at the Rose and Crown.

As they strolled along, Clare grew increasingly uneasy about the man at her side. He seemed far too silent, and each word appeared to be reluctantly dragged forth from him as though he were in...

"Are you in pain, Mr. Talbot?"

"No.” He winced when he stumbled on the uneven cobbles.

The Rose and Crown lay directly across the street, none too close in Clare's estimation. She guided him across the threshold of the inn, noting as she did that he looked shockingly pale and a trifle unsteady, as though that tiny glass of cordial had put him in his cups. Firming her lips, she gently pushed him toward a chair, then nudged him down in spite of Priddy's disapproving glare.

A brief conversation with the landlord, and she returned to Mr. Talbot's side bringing his man, Timms, along with her. Between them, with Priddy clucking away in the background, they managed to get the protesting man into a private parlor where Clare urged him onto a stout chair.

"Take off his coat,” she ordered the apprehensive Timms.

"Clare,” began Mr. Talbot, totally ignoring the propriety she had insisted upon.

"Never you mind, sir. I have a suspicion you suffered more from that simple graze, as you called it, than you are willing to admit.” She stood glaring down at him, her arms akimbo while she watched the disrobing.

At his wince when Timms removed the coat from his injured arm, Clare pounced. “Aha! Now I shall see for myself just how much you endured when you knocked me aside to take the bullet intended for my bonnet."

Timms decided it was impossible to pull the shirt over Richard's head, the pain would be too much and needless. He accepted the small embroidery scissors that Priddy took from her case to cut the sleeve from the shirt. Ignoring Richard's dark look, he pulled the sleeve off, dropping it to the floor.

Clare removed the bandage from Richard's arm, inhaling sharply as she saw the angry look of the wound. It festered and looked raw. What ought to have been a simple scratch had become far worse.

Turning to Timms and Priddy, she gave a number of softly spoken orders, then faced her nemesis. “We are not traveling back to Bath today, I fear. To do so would jeopardize your health."

Richard bestowed a narrow look on her. “What about the baby?"

BOOK: The Dashing Miss Fairchild
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