A Love Laid Bare (39 page)

The stunned expression on the man’s face was
tremendously enjoyable. “It so happens I am acquainted with her.
Very well acquainted, in fact,” he said, smiling broadly. Halcombe
could almost see the thoughts darting around in Summerton’s head,
and it was an effort to hold back his laughter. Colin saw him
struggling, and his face registered disbelief as he came to the one
possible conclusion suggested by Halcombe’s remark.

“
Frances?
Frances is my correspondent? How the
devil…?” He stopped and considered this a moment. His eyes were
sharp, speculative. “The books… she must have…it has to be tied to
the books. I want to know how she did it. If I could tap into her
network…” He stopped and pursed his lips. “You are not going to
tell me anything further, I can see.”

Halcombe chuckled, and rose. “That pleasure belongs
to Frances, I think. I don’t know many details in any case. We dine
at six, so you will have your answers in just a few short hours.
Until then, why don’t I have Benson show you to your room?” He
halted. “It is good to see you, Colin. With luck, we can settle
this other matter quickly and enjoy a real visit.”

Summerton’s smile held little optimism. “Luck is
always welcome. Let us hope we do not need much of it.”

***

Thunderstorms kept the men from riding to the coast
the following morning. Resigned to the delay, and also to being
housebound, Halcombe and Summerton decided to help Frances in her
quest to find the hidden rooms. Since much of the time was spent
with the gentlemen suggesting absurdly impossible places and
telling even more ridiculous tales to explain them, they stayed in
good spirits despite the rain. Flora was permitted to run along the
corridors while they tapped on panels and fiddled with deeply
carved mouldings.

This kind of light-hearted play was new to both
Halcombe and Frances, and they participated with great enthusiasm.
The air of enchantment carried over into the early hours of the
afternoon. Although Frances had discarded her sling and the bruises
had slowly begun to fade, Halcombe was still adamant that she allow
for a period of tranquility, which he hoped would lead to a short
sleep. Knowing his wife’s reluctance to follow anyone’s advice but
her own, he had agreed to join her, even if only in a supervisory
capacity. It was a role that seemed to suit them both just
fine.

“I told you it was a mistake to wheedle me into
overseeing your prescribed nap.” Propped up on one elbow, Richard
tickled her bare breasts with a length of her hair.

“Umm, so you did.” Frances put one arm behind her and
stretched like a waking cat, her body shifting until she had a leg
between his. “A nice mistake, don’t you think?” She rubbed her foot
along his calf.

“How can a mistake be nice? A mistake is something
committed in error.” He pressed his legs together to halt her
creeping progress toward his inner thigh.

“Oh, I had no idea this might be regarded as an
error,” she purred, folding her hand around his swelling
member.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief. He leaned closer and
brushed his lips over hers. “You know very well I meant that
not
sleeping
is a mistake.” He rained kisses on her
face until she was giggling helplessly.

“You are very bad,” she chided when she caught her
breath. “Now I’ve lost my place and shall have to start over.” She
groped for him, a sly smile on her face.

He halted her wandering hand and slid his fingers
down her taut stomach to her swelling sex. She was wet and ready.
“I believe I may have found a starting place of my own,” he said
softly.

He entered her without hesitation, his strokes slow
and measured, until she twisted beneath him and lifted her
hips.

“I believe you have,” she gasped. She wrapped her
legs around him, matching him thrust for thrust, and together they
spiraled along a joyful river of fiery sensation until they both
cried out with release.

She held him close afterward, as she always did,
ignoring his protest that he was too heavy for her.

“No, I like it.”

When the thunder of their heartbeats had eased, he
rolled onto his side, Frances still secure in his arms. “
Now
will you take a nap?” he asked, quizzical amusement in his voice.
He felt her smile against his chest.

“If you wish.”

“I do wish.” But she was already drifting into sleep.
He pulled a quilt over them, content to lay there quietly with her
warm and safe beside him. This new Frances continued to surprise
and delight. She was funny, sweet, and affectionate. And, by God,
she was his. Despite all the pain and sorrow she had caused him, he
had never stopped loving her—of that he had no doubt. But that love
had grown into so much more. Frances was somehow able to touch the
very center of his being. She was the heart of him and Richard knew
that he would keep her. How could he not?

In the end, it was amazingly easy. Paul Jensen laid
the sleeping child in the wagon bed beside the barely-conscious
nursemaid. He contemplated the kitten mewing plaintively near his
feet and after some thought, he decided to bring it along. The
scrawny thing might aid in keeping Lady Flora entertained. He
tucked the creature next to her and stretched the canvas cover from
side-to-side. Satisfied that all was well hidden, Jensen donned a
wide-brimmed felt hat, pulled it low on his forehead, and then
climbed onto the seat and picked up the reins.

Dressed as he was in farmers’ overalls and a worn,
shapeless jacket, no one would give him a second glance. The horse
between the shafts was an unremarkable, commonplace animal, similar
to those found on virtually every farm in the area. He planned to
abandon both horse and wagon in exchange for a closed carriage once
he was halfway to his destination.

The plodding pace was nerve-wracking. Anything more
would attract attention, however, and he forced his clenched jaw
apart. A long drive lay ahead as he would not be able to increase
their speed until they were a safe distance from the estate. Two or
three hours on this bone-jarring vehicle was trauma enough for his
teeth without grinding them to stubs.

The minor deluge from the recent storms had worked to
his advantage, taking many of Lord Halcombe’s men from the
immediate vicinity of the manor house. Steady observation over
several days had given Jensen a general idea about the habits of
the staff. He knew that in good weather Lady Flora and her
nursemaid spent an hour or so in a secluded garden. He had merely
propped open the gate and the noisy kitten had brought the child
scampering straight to him. The nursemaid had been in fast pursuit
and after a gentle tap on the head to daze her, he swiftly bound
her mouth with a scarf and had her rolled into a blanket before
Lady Flora so much as noticed.

She was a trusting little girl, accepting his offer
of fresh milk for both her and the kitten without demur. But she
had, of course, seen him previously. The laudanum-laced beverage
acted quickly on her small body. The amount had been difficult to
judge, since he really had no desire to do her, or the nursemaid,
any real harm. He was, after all, not a heartless man—just a
desperate one. Her parents had what he wanted. Now he had what they
wanted. It would be a simple, even exchange.

Jensen settled in for a long, tedious drive and
turned his mind to the ransom note. It was written, but the
all-important time of delivery had yet to be determined.

***

Flooding in some of the fields and outbuildings
required the earl’s immediate attention, so the morning was well
advanced before Halcombe and Summerton felt free to ride to the
coast. It was a later start than they’d planned, but after some
debate, they decided to seek accommodations in the village near
Clifftop and return the following day.

Frances wanted to go with them. She had not been to
Clifftop since her return and was as interested in finding out more
about this mysterious stranger as Richard and Colin were. They had
finally told her of it, although by then Frances’ suspicions were
aroused. Given the combination of this surprise visit from
Summerton, Richard’s meeting with Thomas, and the news that Richard
and Colin planned an expedition to Clifftop, she could hardly think
otherwise.

Frances felt the protective instinct men folk seemed
to feel toward women was often misplaced. The notion was at the
forefront of her mind and she continued to muse about it after her
daily meeting with Rose and Mrs. Hinks. While very different in
background and personality, they were both a fitting example of the
strength and fortitude that many women possessed. Her diminutive
housekeeper had grown up in a poor fishing village and gone into
service while still a child herself. When given the opportunity,
she had avidly learned to read, write and painstakingly modify her
thick country accent over the years in hopes of improving her
station.

Cook, on the other hand, had been born here on the
estate and then attended the school Halcombe sponsored for the
children of his tenants. She had risen from kitchen maid to head
cook through hard work, creativity, and her devotion to the study
of cookery. She was a veritable expert in the kitchen, and
consistently prepared the most delicious meals. Mrs. Hinks had
amassed an impressive collection of recipe books over her lifetime.
Frances made a note to search out more for her.

Gracious, her mind was wandering today! When she had
only meant to remind herself that she had responsibilities here and
was unable to hare off at a moment’s notice. Frances huffed and
opened her account book. Her plans for the afternoon were all very
laudable but, truthfully, it came down to the fact that she did not
ride well enough to make the trip without being a hindrance. They
could all go another time, she vowed, and they would take Flora
with them.

“Frances, where is Flora? We are ready to leave and I
wanted to say good-bye.”

The earl entered the parlour, his expression more
puzzled than impatient, although Frances knew he was anxious to
go.

She frowned and looked at her watch. “Flora must be
upstairs with Nancy. They were outdoors earlier, but they don’t
usually stay out this long.” She stood and walked calmly around her
desk, but her throat began to swell with fear.
Don’t panic. They
are playing some kind of game in one of the empty rooms.
“I’ll
look for them. Will you send someone to make sure they have not
lingered in the garden or perhaps gone to the stables?” Despite her
suggestion, Frances knew that Nancy would never take Flora to the
stables alone.
They would not have ventured into the older parts
of the house, either
.
Unless Flora had run off and they were
accidently locked in somewhere…which you know is unlikely.

“I will go myself,” Halcombe said. “Benson can start
with the house.” He touched her shoulder. “They are probably
playing somewhere they should not and will turn up covered with
dust and exhausted.”

Frances nodded but she was not fooled by the even
tenor of his voice—not when concern furrowed his brow. He hurried
out, and she heard him give the butler instructions to have the
staff start a systematic search.

She went first to the nursery suite, even though
Halcombe had been there just minutes ago. Knowing she was being
foolish, Frances looked in every chest and every wardrobe. She even
checked under both Nancy’s bed and Flora’s cot, and then rushed to
the door and caught the attention of one of the maids scurrying
along the corridor.

“Ruby, please find Susan and have her come here at
once.” The under housemaid was Nancy’s friend and, at times, she
helped her keep an eye on Flora.

Susan rushed toward Frances a few minutes later,
red-faced and panting. “My lady? Benson told me to look in the
attics, but Nancy would never take Lady Flora up there. Surely, she
would not!”

“I agree. Susan, you know Nancy better than any of
the other maids. Please look around her room to see if a shawl or
jacket is missing.”

“Yes, my lady.” Susan dashed through the playroom to
Nancy’s small bedchamber. Frances waited in the doorway. While she
was almost certain the shawl Nancy commonly wore was not in her
room, perhaps it was in the laundry or mending basket and she had
worn something else.

“Her shawl is not there, my lady. If memory serves, I
think Lady Flora had her blue jumper on when they went out this
morning.” She paused, her hands twisting nervously in her apron.
“But I don’t see the jumper, either. They must be outdoors.”

“Yes, I expect that’s so,” Frances said. “But do
continue looking through the house, just in case.” She lifted her
skirt and darted down the stairs, her pace dangerously fast given
the uneven treads. Summerton was in the entry talking to Benson.
Alerted by her rapid steps, he moved to the bottom of the stairway
to meet her.

“You will be of no help to anyone if you break your
neck.” He took a firm grip on her arm. “No one has seen them in the
house since they went into the garden this morning and the staff
has combed through every room.” He led her to the front door.
“Richard wants you to join him.”

The earl was at the garden gate with several of the
men. Frances ran to him and clutched his arm.

“What is it? Tell me! The river?”The normally placid
waterway that flowed alongside their property was now swollen with
the recent rains.

“No! The river is a good half-mile away. I trust
Nancy implicitly—she would not allow our daughter to stray that
far. But even if she and Flora
did
attempt something so
foolish, someone would have seen them.”

Frances was almost paralyzed with terror and she
forced a calming breath into her lungs. Her skin felt too small for
her body. It stretched over the surface of her bones, painful and
tight.