Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03]

Essex

April 1819

"W
hat the devil do you mean, she is not here?" Sir William Lewis blinked at the annoyance in his companion's tone. "I thought you knew."

Julian Rexley, Earl Wolfram, rose from a patterned armchair that had long ago molded itself to a much larger backside and frowned at his host.

The trip to Essex had taken longer than usual due to the poor quality of the roads, and Julian had been stuck inside his carriage with nothing to look at but rain and mud. Being forced to wait upon the weak-minded baronet in this small, hot parlor did not help. To find out it was all for naught only added to his black mood.

"My dear sir, I would not be here had I known there was no reason to come." But he hadn't known. Letitia hadn't informed him of her change of plans. Why?

Sir William Lewis's already florid cheeks flushed darker. "This is a very embarrassing situation, Wolfram. Very embarrassing, indeed."

"Sir William," Julian said, his jaw tensing. He was so warm that the skin beneath his collar itched with sweat, and there was a sharp pounding in his head. "Where is my sister?"

The baronet sat slouched in his chair, his waistcoat straining at its buttons, and gazed at Julian with an expression of good-natured bewilderment.

"I do not know."

A faint thrumming began somewhere behind Julian's eyes. He scowled. It made the thrumming worse.

He sought to regain his composure, even as thoughts of the dangers his sister might encounter bombarded his mind and quickened his heart. Letitia was the kind of person who didn't have to look for trouble. It usually found her with little difficulty.

"You do not know? I might ask, my dear sir, why you would let a woman leave your protection unescorted without first ascertaining her destination." His tone was deceptively light. Inside he was very near panic. No one had known where Miranda had gone either, and by the time Julian had found her, she was dead. To assume the same would happen with Letitia was madness, but he couldn't stop the horrible thought from flashing through his mind.

Sir William reddened even more. "Forgive me, Lord Wolfram, but it did not seem so wholly strange as you suggest. Lady Letitia is hardly a chit fresh from the schoolroom, and she made it very clear from the time of her arrival that she would be leaving us on the fourth because of a prior obligation. She spoke of it so casually that I detected no artifice in her tone, nor did it occur to me that she might not have your approval."

He was right of course. Why would he suspect Letitia of deceit? Sir William did not know his sister as Julian did. Kind and good-hearted, Letitia was also willful and spoilt— a fact for which Julian was to blame.

But that wasn't important now. What was important was determining just where his sly sibling had gone, and why she had considered it enough of a secret not to tell him. No doubt part of her reason had been the wish to avoid going to town for the season. Letitia was well aware that it was his wish that she would find a husband this year, just as Julian was very much aware that his younger sister did not want his assistance in that matter.

"Sir William."

The baronet eyed him warily, as one might watch a growling dog. "My lord?"

Julian forced a slight smile. "I wonder if perhaps your daughter might know my sister's whereabouts."

"By George, I wager she does," Sir William replied, brightening. "Thick as the corns on a whore's heel those two are."

With that charming analogy in his head, Julian waited for the other man to fetch his child. Sir William simply sat there flushed and dazed. Wryly, Julian wondered if the baronet's stupidity had landed him many beatings in school.

"Might I speak to her?" he asked when it became apparent that the thought wasn't going to cross the vast desert of Sir William's mind.

"Of course!" The baronet cried, leaping to his feet with as much grace as his size and gout would allow. "I shall fetch her myself."

Either a smile or a grimace curved Julian's lips— he wasn't certain which. "I am most obliged, thank you."

Sir William waved his words aside with a broad grin and shuffled from the room in search of the fruit of his loins.

Where the devil had Letitia run off to? And how could she put him through this worry? Sir William was right, Letitia was no green girl. She was a woman of four and twenty and she was old enough to know that such behavior was childish and inconsiderate. She must have known the news would alarm him. Perhaps that had been her intention. She was angry with him for trying to find her a husband and this was her way of showing her displeasure.

The brat didn't know displeasure, but she would when Julian found her. Running away was no way to deal with problems, neither was hiding. Now he had to take time out of his busy schedule to go and find his churlish sibling. He was not impressed.

Christ, he hoped nothing had happened to her.

He couldn't bear it if anything happened to Letitia. She was all he had left. He'd lost his parents at eighteen, his other sister, Miranda, less than a decade later. Only his friend Brave, who had loved Miranda, knew how he had suffered at her death. They would have to lock him up if he lost Letitia too. At times she seemed to be as much his child as his sister, and he knew that sometimes she thought him a bit of a tyrant, but he had done everything he could to give her the life she deserved. He had even agreed to allow her to choose her own husband, but that had been five years ago, and she had yet to choose.

She needed support and if he ever wanted a life of his own, he was going to have to help his sister out of his house and into someone else's. Someone who deserved her and would love her.

And most important, someone who could handle her without crushing her spirit. Letitia might be willful, but she had a sweet disposition and a romantic nature that was as inclined to melancholy as it was to joy. It would take a special kind of man to give her what she needed. That was why Julian had taken it upon himself to select possible candidates. He would do anything to ensure his sister did not allow her heart to make a disastrous attachment, as Miranda had done.

The room's stifling heat was making the pounding in his head even worse. Moving as far away from the fire as possible, Julian went to stand by the window at the far end of the parlor. It wasn't quite as uncomfortable there, and if he pressed his forehead against the cool, rain-pelted glass, he felt a little relief.

He would not be sorry to leave the shelter of Sir William's house. He would be very happy to be outside where it was cooler. He would be happier still to know where Letitia was.

"Here she is, Wolfram." Sir William's cheerful voice rang through the room, jangling what little was left of Julian's nerves.

For a split second, Julian thought Sir William spoke of Letitia, but then he remembered.

Miss Lewis looked nothing like her father, which could only serve in the girl's favor. She was petite, with fine reddish brown hair, a pert nose and large green eyes that were startlingly feline in shape. One look at her and Julian knew that this girl and his sister would be pure trouble together.

And one look at her was enough to ascertain that she knew exactly where Letitia was. If the alarm on her face at seeing him wasn't enough, the fact that she couldn't meet his gaze was.

Choking back the urge to start demanding answers to his questions, Julian bowed. "Miss Lewis."

The girl curtsied and mumbled something in reply. Still, she did not look at him.

Julian did his best imitation of a charming smile as he walked toward Sir William and his daughter. He despised secrets and deception of any kind. Two people had tried to willfully deceive him in his lifetime: Miranda and one other. Miranda had succeeded and the other had come all too close. Even the mere suspicion of being lied to or plotted against was enough to stoke the embers of his temper.