Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (11 page)

Thornhill reasoned, “I can provide the lady with a maid, as well as men to protect the house.” He gestured aristocratically to their surroundings. “It is not as if the lady has been living in austere quarters.”

If he were more of a gentleman, Carter might have objected to the absurdity of inviting a woman of Mrs. Warren’s station to his home, but his years with the Realm had blurred the lines of propriety. Finally, he said, “I will leave it to you to convince the lady yours is the best plan for her immediate future.”

H
e had called on her for three consecutive days. Each time, Carter had hired a hack, rather than to use his fine coach and to draw attention, actually, more notice than usual, to his presence in the neighborhood. With each call, he had removed more of her belongings. Daily, Mrs. Warren packed her personal items in a small valise, and Carter transferred the items to a trunk he brought with him. In that manner, the lady would appear to return with what she brought with her. It was an excellent plan if another “spy” had replaced the one Thornhill had apprehended.

“This one is heavier than the one yesterday,” he said with an easy taunt. He lifted her bag to the carriage bench before he assisted her to the seat.

The lady blushed, and Carter thought the color did wonders for her looks. “I included my father’s papers today. They are in the metal box on the bottom of the bag.”

“I will guard them with my life,” he whispered before lifting the boy to the opening.

As foolish as it seemed, Carter could not recall a time he had been more excited to spend time with a lady. He had instinctively known from the meeting three days prior he would enjoy touching her: enjoy lifting her small form from the carriage and placing her hand upon his arm. The experience was his personal exquisite torture. Yet, he had also discovered she enthralled him with her intelligent conversation. Mrs. Warren was well versed in the country’s politics, and Carter had delighted in sharing many of the government’s not-so-guarded “secrets” with her. The lady’s eyes lit in anticipation, and he relished teasing her with each new fact.

Just as surprisingly, he had taken pleasure in the boy’s antics and the child’s delight at the smallest gesture of kindness. Whether it was an afternoon playing
in Marylebone Park or a gift of a book from one of the many shops or an ice from Gunthers, Simon Warren freely expressed his gratitude. He thought the child and the lady were well matched in temperament.

Only yesterday, she had confided something he had never considered. “If what we suspect holds true, I must decide whether to announce to the world my imprudence by resuming my former name or falsely claim the name of a man I have learned to despise.” The boy chased a ball Carter had found in his suite of offices, while Carter and the lady shared a park bench.

Carter paused before responding. “If you choose to raise the boy as your ward, it would prove well to keep Captain Warren’s name.”

Her lip took a bitter curl. “Yet, in their grief, my husband’s parents have rejected me. I am certain they would not have a care if I kept their son’s name alive,” she protested.

The sun hid behind a cloud, and the shadows blurred his view of her countenance. Wishing to understand her better, he said, “Perhaps you could tell me a bit more of your marriage. Even the most miniscule fact could be the one to solve this mystery.”

She turned her chin to watch the boy at play, and Carter recognized the pain, which crossed her brow. Brutal self-appraisal crossed her countenance. “Our parents’ estates ran along side each other, and the Warrens and the Rightnours were great friends. With my birth, the colonel and Father Warren drew up an agreement. From my earliest memory, I knew I was to be Matthew Warren’s wife. We never discussed the arrangement, and I had thought Captain Warren had accepted our parents’ wishes.”

Mrs. Warren caught the ball as it rolled toward her feet before returning it to the boy with an encouraging smile. “Mr. Warren departed for the war in the later part of ’07, but I did not follow as I was still in the schoolroom. At the time, the colonel had accepted half pay, and we were in Devon until he was recalled into service in early 1811. My father’s return to the war was the reason for Mr. Warren’s homecoming to exchange our vows. Little did I know he had kept the secret of another wife.” The lady’s former conceit obviously gulled her.

Her gaze veered skyward, and she muttered something, which sounded of a curse. The fact the lady held a spark of defiance pleased Carter immensely. Resilience would serve her well in overcoming the evils surrounding her. “I lost Captain Warren to a fever after we had spent a fortnight in the cold and rain. I
could not return to Devon for the colonel had let the estate, and Uncle Gerhard had parted ways with our family long before I was born. My mother had passed shortly after I married, and all I had remaining in the world was my father. There was no time to grieve for my husband’s passing. My father was alone, so I joined the colonel. Beyond my early years in Devon, following the drum is all I have ever known.” A single tear crept down her cheek, and Carter resisted the urge to flick it away. “I lost the colonel at Waterloo. I have no family remaining, which makes Captain Warren’s betrayal even more painful.”

Hers was a twisted tale of woe, and Carter had difficulty believing Warren had not given some indication of the duplicity he practiced. Likely, Mrs. Warren had chosen to ignore her husband’s dual life, telling herself his absence from her bed was a result of the war. For Carter, perhaps this was the hardest part of her story to believe: What he knew of the lady would not speak of unwariness, but she had turned her vision from what was evidently her husband’s unfaithfulness. It was only with her retelling that he realized who her father had been. “Colonel Roderick Rightnour was your father?” Her casual mention of the colonel and Waterloo meant Mrs. Warren was not aware of his connection. He wondered what she would think of him if Carter spoke his heart regarding Rightnour’s grievous mistakes during the battle.

The lady looked at him in dismay. “Were you unaware of my parentage?”

Experiencing a touch of guilt, Carter attempted to conceal his knowledge of Rightnour’s ability to lead his men in battle. “I had only known you by your husband’s name,” he explained. “From Thornhill, I recently learned your father served England, but I had not placed the connection until I heard you speak of the colonel’s demise.”

A suspicious frown crossed her countenance. “Did you know my father?”

Carter again withheld his true thought regarding the man. “I served Wellington for only a short time. When the opportunity arrived to make a more personal difference in our country’s struggle, I seized it. I had only briefly known private service when Wellington pressed me into action at Waterloo. Otherwise, I would not have been involved. I was aware of Colonel Rightnour’s service. It was I who assumed the command of the colonel’s regiment after his fall.”

“So it was you who was credited with saving the lives of his men,” she countered.

All emotions faded from his eyes. Carter shrugged away the accolades. “I did what any good Englishman would have done.”

“And knew a severe injury for it.”

“How did you know I was wounded?” His eyebrow rose in curiosity. “Those in charge removed me from the field.”

Mrs. Warren blushed thoroughly, but her voice remained steady. “I am a colonel’s daughter, and I volunteered in the records’ office. When the Duke of Wellington requested a special transfer for a wounded soldier, I took notice. Then I saw who you were and what you did. I was indebted to you for saving my father’s reputation, and I meant to express my gratitude, but you were gone. Like you, I thought no more of the name I had discovered.”

Carter was not certain he liked the idea of the lady being privy to the Realm’s secret maneuverings in his behalf. “As I was intended to be nothing more than a messenger on that day, the Duke assumed responsibility for my condition,” he explained.

“I thought it a wonderful gesture on His Grace’s part,” she admitted. “Unfortunately, with the loss of my father, my world shifted under me. I had no time to know more of your recovery.”

Arrangements had been made for what appeared to be a fourth outing on their part. Carter arrived in the hired hack, but this time he sent the driver toward the city’s outskirts. Through one of his agents posing as Mrs. Warren’s cousin and claiming to have invited her and the boy for a holiday to Warwickshire, Carter had paid the lady’s rent in advance to keep Mr. and Mrs. Peterman’s silence. Questioning the man Thornhill had captured had proved fruitless. All they had discovered was the man who had hired her culprit was an older gentleman of some wealth for Mrs. Warren’s enemy had paid the man well to spy upon her. The hireling, who gave his name as Jacob Parker, had sworn no knowledge of the attempts to harm the lady.

When they reached the country roads, Carter transferred the last of her belongings to his personal coach. “Where are we going?” Simon asked as he lifted the boy into the coach. Purposely, they had not told the child of their
plans. Mrs. Warren feared Simon might accidentally inform Mrs. Peterman of their whereabouts.

“Sir Carter has suggested we might partake of a short holiday in the country,” she explained as she followed the child into the coach’s interior. “He is escorting us to his estate.”

“You will enjoy the opportunity to ride and to play with the other children, will you not?” Carter added in encouragement.

The boy’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. “Oh, yes, Sir Carter. That would be most excellent.”

Mrs. Warren breathed easier. Carter whispered in her ear. “His Grace has sent a maid to chaperone us. The duke thought it best if you did not arrive in Kent with a spoiled reputation.”

She glanced up at him, and Carter’s heart flipped in his chest when their eyes met. Whenever the lady was close, he fought the urge to touch her. “I appreciate the duke’s forethought, but I fear my husband’s reputation has doomed mine.”

Carter stood in the carriage’s opening while she crouched in the doorway. “Thornhill means well.” He was not certain how the
ton
might react to what she had suffered. Some might celebrate her determination, while others would shun her. “I will see you safely settled at Huntingborne, and tomorrow, I will return to London and the investigation,” he confided.

Mrs. Warren frowned deeply. “So soon?” she whispered.

Carter leaned closer. Close enough to claim her lips if he did not restrain his desires. “I fear so.”

Her cheeks flushed with color before she blew out a sigh. “It is just that I have enjoyed our conversations…” The red upon her cheeks deepened. “It has been so long since I have known a person who takes interest in what brings me pleasure.”

Carter’s lust raced to notice. He could think of several “interesting” means to bring her pleasure. Yet, before he could respond, his coachman announced, “The lady’s belongings are secured, Sir.”

Carter released her hand–a hand he did not even realize he still held. “Excellent.” He cleared the rasp from his throat. “Set a course for Kent, Watkins.”

Simon had asked what seemed a hundred questions upon the journey, but Carter had enjoyed explaining to the boy about the different terrain and vegetation. He even answered a few of the child’s questions regarding the war. “Did you know my father?”