Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (10 page)

Obviously grappling with her response, Mrs. Warren said softly, “There is something regarding Simon I did not initially share with His Grace.”

Despite his best efforts, Carter grimaced. Whatever Mrs. Warren had withheld from Thornhill would change everything. “Whenever you are prepared to speak on it, we are prepared to listen,” he encouraged. He wished he could comfort her somehow. Swift appreciation registered in her eyes, and Carter was pleased to have said the correct thing.

“Simon,” she said with a gentle smile upon her lips, “is a phenomenal child, and I do not regret one minute he has dwelled with me; yet, I fear I shall never be able to give Simon the type of life he deserves.”

“Do you mean financially?” the duke asked.

Mrs. Warren chuckled ironically. “Of course, financially, but more than that. The child should have those who understand him in his life. Those who can answer his questions with responses buried deeply in his past.”

“I fear I do not understand, Lucinda,” the duke said encouragingly. Somehow, the duke’s familiarity with the woman rubbed raw against Carter’s sensibilities.

She inhaled deeply, and Carter noted the stiffening of her shoulders, as if Mrs. Warren braced for a powerful blow. “The woman Captain Warren took to wife was a Jewess. The boy must be returned to his maternal family. Even then, Simon will know hardship, but not to the extent he will experience if I bring him up as a Christian. How would I educate him, even if could afford to do so?”

For several elongated second, neither Carter nor Thornhill responded. Carter suspected the duke was attempting to stifle the impulse to search out
Matthew Warren’s grave, dig the captain up, and kill the man all over again. Carter was certainly considering doing just that. “How?” Thornhill growled. “Not only did Warren practice a deception, he did so with a Jew? I have never known prejudice against the race, but this situation is beyond the pale. Such actions taint Society’s opinions of all involved. I cannot understand how a man betrothed to you since childhood could take another wife or how the two of them have contrived to foist their child upon your good nature,” he said indignantly.

“Thornhill, we must think rationally,” Carter cautioned. “Permit Mrs. Warren her explanation.”

A sorrowful note laced her words, and tears misted her eyes. Immediately, regret flooded Carter’s heart. He recognized the embarrassment and shame Mrs. Warren had suffered. “When I discovered…discovered my husband’s treachery,” she stammered, “I…I wished…” Carter prayed the lady would not finish her thought, but she did, nonetheless. “I wished to die. Yet, I could not. You see, if something happened to me, Simon would have no one in this world to care for him.” Mrs. Warren swallowed hard. Carter ached to comfort her. It was all he could do not to reach for her. The feeling was so strong, and he was not certain he liked it. “I have…it is foolish for me to think so…but I have come to believe Captain Warren arranged to have Simon sent to me. Surely Mr. Warren spoke of me to Simon’s mother. My husband knew I would not fail to keep the boy safe.”

Carter admired the lady’s fortitude. For the child’s sake, she had convinced herself to make the benevolent journey. He knew of no one who would open himself to such scrutiny. “Did the child present any papers besides the note you described earlier?” he inquired. Carter quickly reasoned his only means to comfort the woman would be to locate the information she required.

“Simon carried a small bag containing several rolled sheaves,” Mrs. Warren explained, “but they are written in Hebrew. I feared bringing notice to the boy if I had someone translate them.”

Carter offered, “I could ask one of the recruits we have recently added to our staff to view them, assuming that situation would meet your approval.”

“Your offer is one I readily accept.” Mrs. Warren smiled sweetly, filling the emptiness Carter experienced earlier. “Yet, I have a confession.”

Carter frowned without recognizing he did so. “How so, Mrs. Warren?”

He heard the pause, as if the lady sought the correct words. “Some…some several months back, an intruder entered my rooms while Simon and I returned books to the circulating library.” Carter realized the nearest library was well over a mile removed, and he once more admired the strength of the woman before him.

Thornhill swore under his breath, but Carter calmly asked, “Were the child’s papers disturbed?”

“Only one,” she explained. “One of the three rolled papers has gone missing. I could not understand why that particular item was the source of the invasion; however, Simon explained the paper was a record of his parents’ joining.”

Carter leaned forward, as if Thornhill’s presence no longer existed. “Was the paper also in Hebrew?”

Surprisingly, Mrs. Warren’s gaze rested purely upon him, and Carter relished the connection. “Yes, which I found most confusing because the man who follows us when the child and I are about our business appears English…I mean his skin is that of those who call England home.” She blushed with the awkwardness of her words.

“Good God!” Thornhill expelled. “Break ins and someone following you!” In frustration, the duke jammed his fingers into his hair. “When had you planned to inform us of all this, Lucinda?” Thornhill was on his feet and pacing. “I had thought your situation one of an administrative nightmare, but this is something much more dangerous.”

“Sit, Thornhill,” Carter ordered in a voice reminiscent of Aristotle Pennington. “Again. Permit Mrs. Warren time to explain fully, and then we can decide upon a plan of action.”

Reluctantly, the duke returned to his seat. Carter thought it ironic that he, a mere baronet, without repercussions, had given orders to a duke. It spoke to his long-standing relationship with Brantley Fowler.

The lady smiled with admiration, and Carter’s heart turned a graceful somersault in his chest. He wondered if there might be some means he could employ to keep the smile upon her lips. Yet, as he considered the possibilities, Mrs. Warren’s brow tightened in a decided frown. “There have been four questionable incidents,” she began. “Shortly after Simon and I moved to these quarters, we nearly met our end when a beer cart lost its load.” The lady paused as if choosing the details to share. “The stranger entering our rooms followed that
incident. Shortly after the invasion, I began to notice the man who appeared to watch our every move. As my window does not look upon the street, I have no idea whether he is at the same street corner at other times, but he appears to parallel my comings and goings.”

Her frown deepened, and Carter wished to smooth away her ills. “Perhaps I have erred. There remains the possibility the man simply pines for a woman in the neighborhood.”

Thornhill asked encouragingly, “Could you describe the man?”

She looked off as if conjuring up an image. “Much shorter than either of you or the baronet. The man wears a brown hat–one a man working in the fields might doff. Early on, he sported a fleece lined coat, but he has abandoned its warmth for a plainly cut jacket.”

“Which corner?” the duke prompted.

“Across the street. Before the grocer.”

Thornhill nodded to Carter. “I have it. I will go out the back and take Murray with me. Finish your conversation with Mrs. Warren. If the man is about, I will find him.”

Carter inclined his head in acknowledgement, and the duke disappeared from the room. “Were there other incidents?” He meant to have it all. Carter was suddenly aware of the inappropriateness of being alone with this particular woman; yet, there was no means to correct the situation. They could not permit others to know of what they spoke.

A moment earlier, Lucinda had known nothing but her tale. Now, all upon which her mind could concentrate was the sudden heat shooting through her veins. Instinctively, she glanced at her breasts as they beaded in anticipation. When Lucinda looked up again, she discovered the baronet’s eyes rested upon her bust line. Immediately, her heat turned to a flush across her cheeks.

Flustered by the intensity of Sir Carter’s eyes, Lucinda could not recall his question. She should be placing her defenses in a row, as she had done with Lieutenant Worsley, but in a perfect world, welcoming the baronet’s attentions would be Lucinda’s wish. Unfortunately, she recognized her social position as inferior to his. The image of his lips claiming hers played like a beckoning
dream, but she managed to shake it off. Without meeting his eyes, she stammered, “Once…bricks fell…bricks fell from a roof top…to land dangerously close to Simon’s feet. On another occasion, there was a small fire in the passage leading to our rooms. Fortunately, Mr. Peterman discovered the smoke before the fire spread. It was assumed the maid Nancy had dropped a warm coal on the rug after she cleared the ashes from the fireplace.”

“But you hold different thoughts?”

Lucinda uttered a strained laugh. “I have refused to acknowledge my greatest fears until this moment,” she rasped through a tight throat.

The baronet moved to sit beside her upon the settee. He did so in natural concern, but Lucinda could not help but to catch her breath. “You must promise me, Mrs. Warren,” he said in what sounded of true disposition, “to speak earnestly at all times. If I am to assist you, you must trust me, even with your most private thoughts.”

She wondered how the baronet would respond if she had told him she wished to know the warmth of his kiss. Silently, Lucinda laughed at the sheer absurdity of such an idea. “I shall endeavor to do as you ask, Sir Carter.”

“May I view the papers of which you spoke earlier?”

Lucinda knew this was a mistake; permitting Sir Carter into her life was a ridiculous scheme. If she had known Thornhill would involve the baronet in the investigation, she would have sought other means before succumbing to her situation. It had not come easy to pretend no knowledge of the man, but to look upon his fine countenance was such a pleasure after so great a time. “Of course,” she said stupidly. “If you will excuse me a moment, I shall retrieve them from my quarters.”

Carter assisted her to her feet. He had erred when he caught her hand in his. To his regret, she presented him a quick curtsy and moved away. As he watched her go, Carter subconsciously rubbed the zing of recognition, which burned his palm. Some might say, there was nothing uncommon about Lucinda Warren, nothing from the ordinary, but those critics would have erred. Behind those plain threads of a poor war widow stood a remarkable woman. Her exit created a strange sense of loss.

As the lady slipped from the room, Thornhill returned. “Murray escorts Mrs. Warren’s spy to the Home Office,” the duke said with a bit of bravado.

Carter scowled. “He confessed?” He held no doubt if the man existed, Fowler would apprehend him. The duke was a superb agent. What did not make sense was a ready confession.

“Since I brought him from Cornwall to London, Murray has acquired several convincing methods of discovering information.” The duke straightened his waistcoat. “Our culprit did not announce who had hired him, but the man did admit he was to report on Mrs. Warren’s presence in Mrs. Peterman’s household.”

Carter’s anxiety spiraled tighter. It was all too easy, and he suspected easy was not how this investigation would go. He stifled a groan of frustration. “We should remove Mrs. Warren and the child to some place safe. What say you to Thorn Hall?”

The duke flinched. “I have spoken previously of the duchess’s lack of comfort with Mrs. Warren.”

Carter was not impressed by Velvet Fowler’s ignorant naiveté. The duchess had a long way to travel to equal the magnanimous nature of her cousin Lady Eleanor Worthing.
Why was it
, he thought,
the more beautiful the woman, the more insecure she became
? “Then do you have another suggestion? The others are farther from London, and our investigation centers about Mrs. Warren’s activities since arriving in Town. It would seem best to keep the lady close.”

Thornhill said ruefully, “Huntingborne Abbey remains nearly empty.”

Carter said incredulously, “I cannot bring the woman to my estate. I have only a minimal staff to attend her. And who would protect Mrs. Warren while I am in London?”