Clandestine Passion (The Lovelocks of London Book 2)

James returned to his room and found Enfield there.

“Quite a long vigil, eh, my lord?” He raised an eyebrow before he saw the gravity of James’ expression. Then Enfield’s face became quite serious as well. “A thousand pardons, my lord.”

James collapsed onto the bed, its counterpane rucked up, a mystery since no one had slept there yet this night. “We had better pack up, Enfield. Once the sun rises, I doubt we will be welcome here any longer.”

“Yes, my lord. And I apologize. I had not thought to bring any French Letters so I hope you were cautious—”

“Enfield!” James thundered. He had sprung back onto his feet. “You are my valet! You are not my nursemaid!”

Enfield looked down, abashed for the first time in all the years he had served James as valet. “Yes, my lord.”

James crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Enfield. In truth, you are more father to me than . . . I mean to say, you are a good man. And I thank you. I lost my temper because the lady . . . the lady . . .”

Enfield looked at him closely. “The lady would not have you, my lord?”

James could feel his eyes begin to water. He was overtired, damnit. “The lady should not have me, Enfield.”

There was some delay in getting out of the house. Enfield reminded James that his carriage was not at Ffoulkes Manor but in the village five miles away, three by the crow’s flight. The coachman and footman were sleeping above the public house, and the horses had been stabled there as well. It was all exceedingly inconvenient.

No, the butler Rowley said when he came to the door of James’ room, obviously haggard from little sleep. No, Sir Francis’ carriage was not available to carry Lord Daventry, his valet, and his luggage to the village. Lord Daventry was welcome to ask the other guests if he could have the use of their carriages.

James thought he heard a carriage then, leaving. Likely Catherine heading back to London in disgrace. How was he going to mend this for her?

He wasn’t. He would be a fool to try to do so. Not when he was selfishly glad that his presence in her bedchamber had put paid to any chance that she might marry Sir Francis.

But now she must hate him more than ever.

The Swintons had come by stagecoach. The Marquess and Marchioness of Painswick were, obviously, unapproachable. He would die before he asked Siddons for a favor and, anyway, he suspected the artist had come to the manor via Sir Francis’ carriage. However, the Marquis Dubois was amenable to allowing James the use of his carriage. Isabella asked him, and as usual, she got what she wanted.

James went to the stables to make sure the marquis’ horses were being made ready. He was surprised to see Catherine’s horses, her distinctive chestnut team with white stars on their foreheads, still stabled. And her carriage tucked away.

He grabbed a stable boy by the arm and growled, “What carriage has left the house already this morning?”

“Sir Francis’ carriage, my lord.” The boy looked fearful.

James released the boy’s arm. He really must not be so fierce. It was out of character. “Where was the carriage going?” He winked and pressed a coin into the boy’s hand.

“I don’t know, my lord.”

James ran back into the house and took the main stairs two steps at a time. He knocked on Catherine’s door and was relieved to have it answered by her lady’s maid Wright.

“May I speak to your mistress?” He smiled as his heart pounded.

“No, Lord Daventry,” Wright said, bobbing and blushing.

“Will you tell her it is of grave importance?”

“No, I mean, that is to say, she is not here, my lord.”

His relief fled and was replaced by a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with being out of breath.

“She left in Sir Francis’ carriage? And she didn’t take you? Where is she going?”

Wright hesitated.

“If she told you not to tell me, I would not expect you to break her confidence.”

“No, my lord.”

“No, she didn’t tell you not to tell me? Or no, she did tell you not to tell me?”

Wright looked confused. “She didn’t mention you at all, my lord.”

James bit his tongue and took a deep breath.

“Do you think Mrs. Lovelock would be upset if you told me where she has gone?”

Wright smiled. “No, my lord.”

James nodded and waited.

“She has gone to Gretna Green, my lord. She is to be married!”