Page 79 of To Seduce a Stranger

But Edward had no intention—no desire—to strike the man. He did not fault Fairfax’s action, could not regret that Langerton had been put in his place. What he wanted would not be gained by shedding more of the duke’s blood, however.

Calmly, he picked up the document Charlotte had written and tucked it into his pocket. “If I am able to confirm that your stepmother gave up her inheritance willingly, I shall return this to you. I hope I shall not find she was coerced . . .”

Despite his injuries, Langerton shook his head vigorously in denial.

As they descended the stairs, they could hear the butler’s exclamations of alarm and pity, the deeper rumblings of Langerton’s voice as he brushed off the man’s offers of assistance. A footman bowed them out the door, and they found themselves once more in the square, squinting against the glare of midday.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edward watched Fairfax flex his injured hand. “I hope Lady Fairfax won’t have your head for those bruised knuckles.”

“She might,” he confessed with a wry laugh.

“Then why did you hit him?”

Fairfax’s expression grew serious. “Because someone needed to, and I couldn’t see letting you sacrifice your principles over someone like him.”

In the lifetime he’d spent learning to control any propensity to temper, eschewing violence despite the viciousness of his surroundings, protecting those who were weaker than he, Edward had never really thought of any of it as a matter of principle. He had merely been determined not to become his father.

But perhaps Fairfax was right. In the end, one’s actions were a matter of choice, not destiny.

“That was smart thinking to take her letter. I hate to imagine what Langerton did to get her to sign away what’s rightfully hers.” Something rather sly passed over Fairfax’s expression. “How do you suppose she’ll express her gratitude when you give her back that paper?”

“If, not when,” Edward corrected, in no mood to be teased. “You forget, I haven’t any notion of where she’s gone.”

The sound of hurrying footsteps behind them interrupted their conversation. Langerton’s butler waved for them to stop, already huffing from his exertions. “My lords. Please, wait.”

Edward regarded him warily. “What business have you with us?”

“You are searching for Her Grace, are you not?” He bent slightly and rested his hands on his knees, the better to draw breath. “I can help.”

“How?”

“She came in a hackney coach, and when she left, I heard her give the direction to her driver. She asked to be taken to a place where she might board the Bristol-bound stage.”

Edward felt his heart lift in his chest—not an entirely comfortable sensation.

“Why would you tell us this, Mr.—?” Fairfax asked.

“Aimes, my lord,” the butler supplied. Some emotion flitted across his hound-like features. “I had not the honor of meeting Her Grace before today. And I have served His Grace only a short time. But from what I have seen, I feel certain she deserves better than she has received from him.”

Edward gave a tight nod. “Yes, she does. Thank you.”

Aimes bowed. “Of course, my lord. You are very welcome.”

Fairfax watched the man return to Blakemore House before he said, “So, she’s headed west.”

“I’m well aware of the direction in which Bristol lies,” Edward said. Far more aware than he’d like, or than Fairfax could guess. “But Bristol’s a port town. She might be bound anywhere.”

“If it was a ship she wanted, she could have found one here in London.”

Such an unnecessary observation earned Fairfax a hard look. Could Edward dare to indulge the hope that had flickered to life in his breast?

“She can’t have got far,” Fairfax insisted as he began to walk in the direction of Sutliffe House at a faster pace. “With a little luck, you might even be able to catch her at Marlborough. Take my coach.”

Edward hesitated. “I couldn’t possibly accept the loan of your carriage. Didn’t you tell me that Lady Fairfax is expecting you to return to Hampshire today?”

Fairfax smiled. “Sarah is a great believer in fairy-tale endings,” he explained, and there was none of the customary cynicism in his voice. “Love can blossom in the unlikeliest circumstance, she’s fond of saying. She would never forgive me if I did not do what I could to smooth the way for true love.” He paused and gestured down the street with his injured hand—quite deliberately, Edward felt sure.

“True love?” he echoed.