“He is not going directly home. He is fetching Aunt Penelope in Kent, first.”
“Yes. But he will have alerted the household.”
Carrie took a deep, tremulous breath and fell silent. She would not sleep a wink tonight.
The next morning after breakfast, Gwen consulted the housekeeper who oversaw the maids' swift packing of their trunks. After writing letters of apology to several friends who expected them to attend their functions, they departed the house well before noon.
“This was not how I planned your Season to begin,” Gwen said with a sigh as they settled in the carriage with Anna.
“I know. Poor Gwen, to have been saddled with me. I am sorry.”
“Nonsense. I haven’t had so much fun in an age. Your absence will merely add to your allure,” Gwen said with a smile. “TheBeau mondelove a mystery. And we shall return before long. I am sure this journey will prove unnecessary. Nicholas will probably send us back forthwith!”
Carrie dismissed the stab of guilt at causing so much fuss. She was confident her decision was right. She sat back and viewed the Mayfair streets passing by the window. How long before she returned to London? She didn’t care. The city had been exciting, all the attention at the ball certainly flattering, and she loved the dancing. But it surprised her how much she wanted to be back at Elm Park again.
Chapter Seventeen
As the coach jostled along the road to Tunbridge Wells, Nicholas rested his head against his hand, his elbow on the window ledge. Was this a waste of time? He had little option; he couldn’t afford to take Simon Leeming’s threat lightly. Simon might at this very moment be on his way to see his aunt. But Nicholas had only a faint hope Lady Penelope, a woman of some sixty-five years, would agree to leave her home and accompany him on a mad dash to Surrey. She might be ill or frail. She had not attended Max’s funeral. He’d never met her and had little idea what she was like. The lady might harbor some resentment toward him because Max had chosen him to be his children’s guardian.
After the coach pulled up outside Grantley Grange, a redbrick manor house, he removed his hat and stood for a moment smoothing his hair back with a hand while considering the best way to appeal to her. Although the groom would walk the horses, they could not be kept waiting for hours. He decided to be straightforward. Old ladies were often shrewd.
Her ladyship received him in the drawing room. She lifted her aristocratic, high-bridged nose and gazed at him from a damask sofa. Dressed in black, a purple turban covered her hair, a silk shawl draped over her shoulders. A gray cat with unfriendly green eyes stared at him from her lap.
He strode forward. “Lord Pennington, Lady Penelope.”
“Ah, Lord Pennington.” She threaded the gold chain of her lorgnette through her fingers. “I expected to hear from you before this.”
Nicholas paused in his journey across several yards of Axminster carpet. “You did, madam?”
She gestured to a chair. “Maxwell suggested you might have need of me.”
“I wasn’t aware he did. But as it happens…”
“You do.” She reached over and grasped a bell on the side table. “Shall we have tea? Or would you prefer wine?”
“Tea, thank you.” Nicholas sat. He considered it wise to keep his wits about him. The lady’s blue eyes were sharp. “I come in the hope you will agree to return with me to Elm Park for a short stay.”
“When?”
“Now. Today.”
“Today?” She pointedly glanced at the mantel clock.
“I prefer to travel in daylight if possible. And as the distance isn’t great, I believe we might manage it. Please allow me to explain, Lady Penelope. I hope you will bear with me while I do. It’s rather long-winded.”
“I already know most of it. Isn’t my niece in London making her curtsey to the queen?”
“Yes. Arabella and Jeremy are at Elm Park, however, and...” Before he could draw breath, she interrupted him.
“A pair of rascals who need pulling into line, I dare say. Max was too soft with them.”
“Perhaps,” he said a little dryly while hoping he wasn’t about to turn their lives into purgatory. “And although I hope to rely on you to assist me with them, that is not the reason I am here. Max’s younger brother, Simon, has returned from the Continent. You might not have heard…”
“How dare he show his face again in England! The black sheep of the family, Simon, could charm the birds out of the trees. He induced Max’s wife, my niece, dear Annabelle, who refused to believe anything bad of anyone, to fund his escape from the law. Spun some sorry tale about being innocent of any crime, but if they caught him, he would swing from the gallows.”
He nodded. “You know it all then.”
“Enough to know you can’t trust him.”
