* * *
It was in the early evening when her father’s voice called for her. She exited her bedchamber, having ensured that her small satchel of clothes was stowed safely beneath the bed before making her way downstairs.
Her heart beat quickly in anticipation with reuniting with Betsy.
Faith, I cannot wait to see her. I must tell her everything that has happened and everything I have planned.
Indeed, she had not confided in anyone when it came to their plans to rush away to Gretna Green. While Catherine was well aware of the failed attempt to end the impending marriage arrangement, Rowena had not told her anymore. She did not want to involve her sister more than she had to. Especially now, when it was becoming ever so clear that her sister’s feeling for the young Mister Newmont were growing stronger.
When she arrived at the bottom of the steps, she heard familiar voices drifting toward her from the drawing room. Bracing herself, she stepped through the door, scanning at once for Betsy’s familiar face. Her parents stood with the Duke of Thornmouth, engaged in eager conversation. Her sister stood beside them, quietly listening and nodding along, as a proper lady should. She smiled when she saw Rowena enter.
Where is Betsy? Why is she not here? Certainly, he would have brought her here at once.
Concern bubbled in her stomach as she locked eyes with the Duke. He smiled at her broadly.
“My dear Rowena, what a pleasure to see you again. It has been too long.” He bowed and kissed her hand as she forced a smile on her face.
“Your Grace,” she curtsied and when she rose, she noticed his eyes were still fixed on her.
“Please, call me Isaac. I have told your dear Papa that I would much prefer it. We are family, after all. Or as good as.”
“Isaac,” the name felt heavy as she said it, unlike Christopher whose name flowed off of her tongue like honey.
She wanted to ask where Betsy was, and why she hadn’t come with him, but now was not the time. Before she could even consider asking him, her parents approached and led the small group into the drawing room, in anticipation of dinner.
“I bet you are quite relieved that the ghastly business at Ely was resolved at last.”
The Duke nodded with vigor. “Am I, yes. But I must say, I am pleased with the result. The leaders of the riot are either being executed or sent to the colonies, and the lesser troublemakers will be punished accordingly. A work well done, if I may say so myself.”
“Indeed, Your Grace. The Commission did a wonderful job,” her father said.
As her parents all but fawned over the Duke, Rowena found herself wishing there was an opportunity to speak with him alone about her concerns.
Why is Betsy not here? She was to travel with him. Why has he come alone? Is she waiting somewhere? The servant quarters, perhaps?
She was about to make up an excuse in order to step outside and investigate, when her father turned to her sister.
“My dear, your Mother told me you have been studying a new piece on the pianoforte. I think it would please the Duke, excuse me, Isaac, immensely if you played it for us.”
The Duke flashed a broad smile at the young girl. “Indeed, it would.”
Catherine curtsied and gave a short nod. Then she proceeded to the piano forte at the other end of the room, seating herself on the bench.
A small chaise sat near the piano forte and it was there that the Duke led Rowena now. Her parents had taken their seats in the armchairs by the fireplace.
Once they were seated on the chaise, Rowena leaned over to the Duke and quietly asked the question that had been burning on her lips.
“Where is Betsy? Why has she not come with you?”
He shook his head and took a drink of his Cognac.
“Do not worry, she is fine. Safe and well back at Lord Portsmouth’s residence.”
Rowena thought she had not heard him quite right.
“She is at Lord Portsmouth’s residence still? But I advised her to seek your assistance in returning to London. She told me she was on her way to Crawford Castle.”
He sighed heavily and seated himself upon the chaise, patting the seat beside him.
