“You appear to be angry. It was done for the best.”
“How do you explain that,Mother Superior? When she was drugged and kidnaped against her will?”
“Her betrothed was worried about her mental health after the death of her father,” she said calmly, her pale face unreadable. “He considered it best to give her time to rest and recover before they married. And as she was threatening to take her own life…” Her hands came together in a prayer-like gesture.
Jack clamped down on his jaw, fighting his anger. “Lady Prudence is not engaged, nor is she seriously depressed. Who is this supposed betrothed?”
She frowned. “Mr. William Guy. We never met in person. Our contact was by correspondence only. He arranged to bring her here, and after a few days’ rest, we were to try to help her. But, as I suspect you know, we didn’t get that chance before she ran away.”
“Lady Prudence took her life in her hands to leave here when no one would listen to her or offer to help her.”
Cold dignity made a stone mask of her face. “That was entirely her own decision, and a very rash one, I must say. I am sorry. Is she all right?”
“No thanks to you, madam. I would advise you not to accept kidnapped women with so little verification in the future. Lady Prudence’s great-grandmama, Lady Aldridge, may choose to pursue this in the courts, and if not, I could bring it to the attention of the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court.” Jack strode to the door and pulled itopen.
Clearly rattled, she rose quickly and followed him to the door. “But, my lord, you say she is not engaged? Then why…?”
“That is what I intend to find out.” Jack walked out, pushing past the bruiser hovering in the hall. Something didn’t smell right about this place, but he had no time to pursue it. But he fully intended to get the law involved. Right now, he had more important things on his mind. “Waste of time,” he said to his groom as he climbed into the curricle.
“Might have known it, milord,” Joseph said glumly as they drove away down the drive. When they reached the inn, he was relieved to find Prudence waiting for him in the parlor. She rose and came to him. “Did you find out anything?”
He took her arm. “We can talk on the way back to Richmond.”
“I was afraid I might lose this.” Seated beside Jack in the curricle, Prue removed the ring he had given her from her finger and handed it to him. “I think Mrs. Bloom suspected we were not married.”
He slipped it on his little finger. “Mm, perhaps. She’s a shrewd woman of business and was paid well.”
“Now, quickly, Jack, tell me what you found out.”
“Not much, I’m afraid. The nun, Mother Rosana, never saw your captor, but she gave me a name: William Guy. Mean anything to you?”
She gasped. “It does. Roland William Guy Stanton.”
“Well, at least we know now for sure.” He turned to look at her. “I shall deal with him.”
“He’s a devil. I could tell you countless stories about his behavior when we were young. There were times when he frightened me.”
Jack tightened his hands around the reins. “He won’t do so again.”
He was loath to leave her at her great-grandmother’s. It didn’t seem safe with her elderly staff and a couple of young footmen. But he must go to London. With luck, Will Darby’s tongue might haveloosened enough to tell them about his involvement with Stanton, and where he might be found. It wasn’t likely Stanton would risk staying at his London address now that his plan had failed.
“There’s someone I want to see in London,” he said as the horses climbed a hill. “The man who sent your father the letter, Bartholomew Everton.”
“Who is this man? How did you find him?”
“He was out of Town when I called on him. He’s a Bow Street Runner and appears to be a man of modest means. His connection to your father is something I have yet to find out.”
“‘A Bow Street Runner’? What would he want with my father? I think I should be there when you meet him.” Prudence’s hopeful gaze met his with an appeal.
She is dashed hard to refuse.
“That would be difficult.”
“But not impossible, surely,” she persisted.
Jack sighed. “I hope to find him tomorrow and if I learn anything of interest, I’ll send word. It’s the best I can promise, sweetheart.”
“Very well, Jack,” she said with false meekness he’d learned not to trust.
