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“I come on behalf of Sarah, my lord.”

Jude frowned. “Who?”

“Sarah, my lord. She is one of the maids—”

“Yes, yes,” Jude said, irritated by the trivial interruption. He didn’t want to be bothered about household matters. That’s what he had a housekeeper for.

“It seems her cousin works in Tidworth’s household. And she has some information that might be helpful.”

“Well? What is it?” Jude’s patience was thin. His neck felt so tight, he thought it might snap.

“Lord Tidworth keeps lodgings at number 27 John Street in Bloomsbury, my lord. His mis…” The man’s cheeks turned scarlet. He swallowed. “Lady Cadwell used to lodge there, and her maid was a woman of middle-age named Mrs. Harriot Freemont.”

“And does this Mrs. Freemont still reside at the lodgings in Bloomsbury?”

“I’m uncertain, my lord.”

Jude nodded. It was better than nothing. “Thank you, Joseph,” he said, rising from his desk.

Jude’s emotions ran rampant as he gazed at the modest, yet respectable, terraced house that sat at the end of a row of identical red brick homes, each three stories high, with sash windows, and an arched entryway. This had been Maggie’s lodgings for five years whilst she’d been Tidworth’s mistress. His Maggie. His wife. It made him ill to think of her as one of Tidworth’s possessions.

Unlike most lords, Tidworth had not chosen to squirrel his mistress away in St. John’s Wood like the rest of the ton, but instead had placed her in a respectable neighborhood, not too far from his own home. It appeared overly generous, but Jude knew better. This had been to keep Maggie isolated. She’d been kept far away from the other mistresses and even further away from her own neighbors, who would not have wished to associate with her.

Jude stepped forward, grabbed hold of the brass knocker, and rapped on the door. His knock was answered promptly by a middle-aged woman with bright-blue eyes set in a plump face. She looked visibly taken aback to be facing Jude.

“Are you Mrs. Harriott Freemont?” he asked directly.

The woman’s cheeks pinked as though she were alarmed to be called by her own name. “Who wants to know?” she asked cautiously.

“Lord Cadwell. I think you know who I am.”

“Lord Cadwell!” she burst out. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be in Dorset with Magg…Lady Cadwell.”

It was Jude’s turn to be shocked. “Why?” he said. “Is she in some sort of trouble? You sent her a note, and then she left. I want to know why.”

“You mean, she didn’t tell you?” Mrs. Freemont’s eyes grew wide with what looked like fear, and it made Jude’s heart thud.

“What did the note say?” he asked, panic building up inside him.

“It was a warning. Lord Tidworth has gone after her sister. He will purchase her just like he did Magg…Lady Cadwell. And I thought you could help her stop him. I didn’t know she would go after him on her own. I don’t know why she would have done such a thing. Not when she has your protection.”

Jude’s vision blurred, and he had to grab hold of the wall to steady himself on his feet. Maggie had not trusted him enough to ask for his help. And who could blame her? He hadn’t treated her as a husband ought to treat his wife. He’d abandoned her in their own home. She didn’t think that he would be willing to help her. And he only had himself to blame. If something were to happen to her…

“Where in Dorset?” he said. “Where does her family live?”

“A place called Muckleford. I know because she used to write letters home. And that was the address. The envelopes would always say, Wentworth Cottage, Muckleford. And they were hand-delivered every other month by Lord Tidworth’s personal messenger.”

Jude hesitated. It was rare to meet a maid who could read. “Are you certain of the town name?” he said.

“Quite, my lord. She talked of it often. Muckleford is the name, I am sure. Waste no time going after her,” Mrs. Freemont said. “Lord Tidworth, he’s…he has a badness inside of him. It’s not always present, but when it comes out, it’s…”

“I know that all too well,” Jude said, fear striking his heart. He turned and strode back to his awaiting carriage, praying that if he rode through the night, he would reach Maggie before she reached Tidworth.

Chapter Thirteen

Maggie’s stomach churned as she rode back to Dorchester in her hired carriage. She could not believe how cruel Mama had been. She spoke as if she hated Maggie. And it was all because of Tobias’s lies. He’d convinced her to keep away from her family, destroyed her letters, broken his promises, leaving them in destitution for four years. It was no wonder they hated her.

And now, Lettie was to be Tobias’s next victim. Tears streamed down Maggie’s face as the carriage entered Dorchester. She had not been able to stop her crying for long enough to think clearly and formulate a plan. She gazed out the window at the busy market town that bustled with people trading their wares. Maggie could not help but envy everyone she saw, going about their day. Oh, how she would love to be concerning herself with mundane thoughts of how much wheat, fruit, or eggs to buy. She wiped her tears, continuing to gaze out the window at the many faces on the street, and then she saw them: Tobias with Lettie beside him, strolling through the market as if they didn’t have a care in the world.