Page 65 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
A man’s fist.
The duke wasn’t a good man. Georgiana knew that, but what she hadn’t known was that he was a monster. A sob caught in her throat as she recalled the way Freddy had crawled into her arms without hesitation when she’d held them out to him. Such trust from a child who had been on the other end ofa blow tonight.
But she fought back the tears before they could spill over. She didn’t cry. Ever.
“This ends tonight. Whatever I have to do, wherever we have to go, I’ll make certain the duke never sees either Jane or Freddy again.” Benedict’s hands were opening and closing into fists.
Without thinking, Georgiana lay her own hand over his, stilling them. “What can we do?” The duke was wealthy, titled, and possessed of a spotless—if false—reputation. Jane was hiswife. As unfair as it was, he could do whatever heliked with her.
“We can get to the truth of the secret between Kenilworth and the Earl of Draven.”
Georgiana’s brows drew together. “What secret? As far as we know, the secret is between Lord Draven and Jane, not Draven and Kenilworth.”
“Not according to Lady Archer.”
Benedict was half-hidden in darkness, but the moonlight illuminated enough of his face to reveal his expression, and dread washed over Georgiana at what she saw there. “W-What do you mean? What did Lady Archer tell you?”
“It seems Kenilworth and Draven aren’t quite thedearfriends Mrs. Bury made them out to be.” Benedict dragged a hand through his hair. “They fought a duel when they returned to London after that house party.”
Georgiana gasped. “A duel! Were they fighting over Jane?”
His face was bleak. “Lady Archer thinks so. She also said she believes Kenilworth is responsible for the attack on Draven. They’re sworn enemies, Georgiana, and that’s not the worst of it.”
Georgiana clutched his hand. “What do you mean?”
Benedict’s cold fingers wrapped around hers. “Tonight, Jane told me Freddy isn’t Kenilworth’s heir.”
“Not his heir? Does that mean he’s Lord Draven’s…” Georgiana fell back against the seat, too stunned to force the wordfrom her lips.
“I’m not sure what it means, but whatever happened between Kenilworth and Draven must reveal the duke to be the monster he is, otherwise he wouldn’t be going to such great lengths to keep it a secret. I intend to find out what he’s hiding.”
Georgiana was quiet as she turned Benedict’s words over in her mind. Some mysterious disagreement between the duke and Draven had led to a duel. Lord Draven and Jane had a murky past that might or might not include a long-standing love affair, and both of them were searching for Clara Beauchamp—a search that had led to Lord Draven lying unconscious in his bed, his skull cracked open by a gang of ruffians, and an attempt by the duke to spirit his wife and son out of London in thedark of night.
It was like one of Freddy’s dissected puzzles, but with half the pieces lost six years ago, and the other half scatteredacross England.
What did any of this have to do with Clara Beauchamp? Was she the only one who knew the truth about Freddy? If Freddy truly wasn’t the duke’s son and Clara knew it, mightn’t that be a reason Draven and Jane were searching for her?
“Clara Beauchamp is at the crux of this, Benedict. If we can find Clara, we’ll find the truth, but where do we begin? Your sister claims she saw Clara in London a week or so ago, but no one else seems to have seen her, not even Lady Trowbridge.”
“We won’t find what we’re looking for in London, but we might find it at Draven’s estate in High Wycombe. Clara Beauchamp vanished that night. Someone there knows something about it. If not Draven’s servants, then his neighbors. There are as many gossips in the country as in London. You can be sure someone will be overjoyed to tell usall about it.”
Georgiana nodded slowly. It was their best hope, but it wasn’t without its own risks. “The duke will send hismen after us.”
“Yes. It’ll be a bit more complicated than simply strolling up to Draven’s front door and questioning his servants. It’s going to be dangerous, Georgiana.” Benedict paused, then went on in a softer voice, “Back there, you told Brixton you wanted to come with me, but it’s not too late to change your—”
“No.” The word was out of Georgiana’s mouth before she’d even considered the question. “I…that is, the duchess hired me to find Clara Beauchamp. I told her I would do so, and I don’t intend to go back on my word. Do we go to Oxfordshire tonight?”
“No. We need to get rid of this coach. The duke’s men will be looking for it, and we need fresh horses. I know of a place outside London we can spend the night where no one will think to look for us. Grigg is takingus there now.”
He hadn’t meant they’d spend the nighttogether, so there was no reason her heart should have given that ridiculous, pathetic thump. Georgiana withdrew her hand from his, and kept her nose pressed to the window after that, watching the darkness fly past.
They seemed to drive on for such an interminable length of time she thought they must be halfway to Oxfordshire when the carriage came to a stop at last. “We’re here,” Benedict murmured. Grigg appeared at the coach’s door, and Benedict jumped down, muttering a few words to his coachman before turning tohelp Georgiana.
“What is this place?” Georgiana took the hand he offered and stepped down onto the drive, glancing around. If it was an inn, it was a particularly grand one, faced with cream-colored stone and a series of pretty balconies under each enormous bow window. “It looks like a private home.Is it an inn?”
“Er…not exactly.” Benedict didn’t elaborate, but took her arm and led her toward a pair of tall, handsome double doors protected by a generous portico and gently illuminated by an ornate gas lantern suspended from the ceiling. He reached for the heavy brass door knocker, but before he could knock a distinguished-looking butler in smart, dark blue livery appeared, and with a formal bow, ushered them into a lavish entryway with green and gilt paper on the walls.
“Lord Haslemere, for Madame Célestine.”
