Chapter Eleven

T he disappointment and frustration were evident on Miss Shepherd’s face as they made their way back through Southwark. Henry had never been overly hopeful that Mr Peterson would be the key to unlocking what had happened to Miss Shepherd’s sister, but it would have been foolish to pass up the opportunity of speaking to him. Perhaps when he had sobered up he might be convinced to give up the identity of Miss Shepherd’s father, but Henry thought he could probably work that out on his own.

By asking when Mr Peterson had been at school and university, he would be able to compile a list of his peers, and no doubt within that list Miss Shepherd’s father would sit.

He glanced at the young woman walking beside him and felt a flush of guilt. For the last half an hour he had not thought of his own predicament once. It was refreshing to have something to distract him, and he wondered whether subconsciously one of his motives for helping Miss Shepherd was as a distraction from his own complicated personal life.

‘Thank you for taking me to see Mr Peterson,’ Miss Shepherd said. She sounded dejected. He knew she saw the chances of her finding her sister shrinking before her eyes.

‘I am sorry it was not more useful.’

‘You could not have foreseen that. It was important we spoke to him in case Selina had approached him again.’

‘I will go to the gentleman’s club your sister mentioned later this afternoon, once I have escorted you home.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Then perhaps tomorrow evening you would like to accompany me to the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.’

She turned a cautious face towards him.

‘After last night do you not think it would be best if we were not seen out together socially?’

‘Probably,’ he said. She was completely right of course, he should stick to helping her find her sister and nothing more. Yet she looked so sad he couldn’t bear to think of her sitting in the impersonal lodging house all alone night after night. ‘But I do not think it would be too much of a risk. They are having a special event, a masquerade. No one would know who you are.’

She hesitated, and he found himself willing her silently to say yes. He knew he shouldn’t have invited her, shouldn’t have risked the scandal that being linked with a woman of a much lower social class could cause, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see her smile, to wipe the melancholy expression from her face, and for one night at least enjoy the company of a woman he liked to be around before he started in earnest to look for a wife.

‘I suppose you could tell me what you had discovered from the gentleman’s club.’

‘Does that mean you will come?’

She bit her lip, an endearing habit that drew his eyes to her mouth. For a moment he could only think about kissing her. Quickly he looked away. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards Miss Shepherd, but more than that he liked her. He respected her single-mindedness, her devotion and her loyalty to her sister. She was kind and understanding and he felt comfortable with her. She was the first person he had ever told the story of his first marriage. Other people knew about it because they had lived through it with him, but never had he felt comfortable enough to actually tell them the story.

He shook himself. He was beginning to sound like a lovesick fool, and only a buffoon made the same mistake twice. Once before he had allowed his sentiments to rule his head and it had caused nothing but heartache. Now all his decisions had to be made in a logical fashion.

Grimacing, he realised his last offer to Miss Shepherd had not been logical. The logical thing to do would be to offer to visit the gentleman’s club and then deliver her a note with the outcome. It had not been sensible to invite her for an evening, where their only protection from the curious eyes of society would be flimsy masks.

‘If you are sure?’

‘Yes.’ The word was out before he could stop it, despite his misgivings. He didn’t want to examine what had pushed him to extend the offer, or why he was feeling quite so elated that she had accepted.

Duty. That was what he needed to focus on. The time for self-indulgence and making decisions based on what he wanted was long past. He was still paying for all the mistakes he had made. Now he should be putting all his effort into fulfilling his duty.

Pressing his lips together in displeasure at the word, he told himself it was a means to an end, nothing more. He had no other choice but to tolerate his father’s demands, not if he wished to see his sister, and perhaps find a way to rescue her from their father’s malign influence. He didn’t know what Lord Burwell had planned for his only daughter when she reached an age to be launched into society, but he doubted it would be a happy marriage to a man she loved. If he could be part of her life he might be able to influence his father’s choices in the matter.

‘You look serious,’ Miss Shepherd said, ‘and a little sad.’

‘I was thinking of my sister.’

She gave a rueful smile. ‘We are quite a pair, are we not? I have a troublesome sister who has disappeared without a trace, and you have a sister who is in need of rescuing.’

‘It is certainly something we have in common, Miss Shepherd. We are both changing the course of our lives for the sake of our sisters.’

‘I hope my change will only be temporary.’

‘I am positive it will. In two weeks you will be sitting in the music room of your new home in Kent, teaching your charges the basics of piano.’

She closed her eyes and inhaled, a look of serenity on her face, and for a moment he envied her. He had been prepared to live a simple life with Anne. He’d wanted to make enough money from his properties to support them and any children they may have, but to eschew the trappings of the very wealthy. It had all seemed a little pointless to him, to always need the latest fashion or the fanciest house. Miss Shepherd would not have an easy life, he didn’t wish to belittle her need to work for her living, but she would have the satisfaction of waking up each day knowing she was in control of her own destiny.

Sarah watched through the gap in her curtains as Lord Routledge disappeared around the corner. He had once again walked her back to her lodgings, leaving her with a promise that he would visit the gentleman’s club later that afternoon.

She thought of the invitation he had extended, asking her to accompany him to the pleasure gardens, and tried to suppress the bubble of excitement that rose inside her.

For him it would be nothing more than a way to impart what he had uncovered without changing his plans. He had made it perfectly clear that he did not wish anything romantic to happen between them. She reddened a little at the memory of how painstakingly he had ensured she knew that, telling her of his disastrous first marriage.

‘He could never want someone like you,’ Sarah murmured to herself. She needed to hear it—despite her resolution not to think of Lord Routledge in that way, she had found herself on edge the entire afternoon. Although his reasons were valid, she also had plans that did not involve any liaison between them. She was not going to repeat the mistakes of her mother.

She sighed. It was not the same. She may have only known Lord Routledge for a couple of days, but she could tell he was a man who took his responsibilities seriously. It was endearing how much he was willing to endure to help his sister, and she knew he was the epitome of a good man.

He would not leave a young woman ruined, as her father had done to her mother, but she would not put him in that position. He had made it quite clear the only thing he truly cared about was seeing his sister, and entangling himself with Sarah would only complicate matters.

‘Stop it,’ she told herself. She needed to stop thinking about the attractive Viscount. She’d only known him a couple of days, and now he was dominating her every thought.

She was about to look away from the window when a fine carriage pulled up outside, pulled by four huge white horses. Her interest was immediately piqued. This was not a bad part of London, but it was a long way from Grosvenor Square, where this sort of carriage would look at home.

A liveried servant hopped down from the front of the carriage and opened the door, holding out his hand to assist the lady inside to step down onto the street. Sarah inhaled sharply as she recognised the willowy, elegant figure of Lady Shrewsbury. The Countess looked up at the lodging house, and Sarah quickly stepped away from the window, hoping she hadn’t been seen.

A minute later Mrs Angel was knocking at her door.

‘All these comings and goings, I don’t know what to think, Miss Shepherd. This is a quiet lodging house.’

‘Do I have a visitor, Mrs Angel?’

‘Outside. She opted to wait in her carriage.’

‘Thank you.’

Sarah contemplated closing the door and pretending she was not there, but Lady Shrewsbury struck her as a tenacious woman who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. With a sigh she picked up her bonnet and left the bedroom, wondering what Lord Routledge’s friend could want with her.

‘Thank you for coming out to meet me,’ Lady Shrewsbury said, beaming out at her. ‘Would you come and join me? I thought we could go for a ride. The weather is becoming unbearable again, but with the curtains drawn back it is quite pleasant in the carriage.’

Inside the space was small but the upholstery luxurious. Sarah sank back into the seat of the carriage, opposite Lady Shrewsbury, taking a moment to arrange her skirts. She was conscious of the much inferior cut and material of her dress compared to that of the Countess, which was a beautiful garment made out of green satin.

‘Is there something you wished to discuss, my lady?’ Sarah asked, looking at the other woman directly, refusing to be cowed by their difference in social status.

‘Miss Shepherd, you must understand my position,’ Lady Shrewsbury began, softening the words with a diplomatic smile. ‘Lord Routledge is a dear friend, in many ways like the brother I never had, and I worry about his welfare.’

Sarah bristled, but tried not to show it.

‘Lord Routledge is a Viscount, whereas I am a mere miss from Sussex.’

‘Yet in just a few days you have managed to bewitch him,’ Lady Shrewsbury murmured.

Sarah’s head shot up—she had not expected the Countess to be so blunt.

Lady Shrewsbury held up a placating hand. ‘Perhaps my turn of phrase is too strong, too accusatory, but the fact remains that ever since deciding he was going to dedicate his life to regaining contact with his sister, Lord Routledge has not once acted rashly. Then you come along and suddenly he is bringing you to the opera and sheltering under trees with you during thunderstorms.’

She was glad Lady Shrewsbury did not know of their latest foray out into the world together, to the seedier parts of London.

‘Lord Routledge has been kind enough to help me find my sister.’

‘He is very kind. He would hate it if I insinuated that he was sometimes too kind, but I have my opinions.’

Sarah blinked a few times, taken aback again by Lady Shrewsbury’s directness.

‘What would it take for you to go away? To disappear from his life and never come back?’

‘There is nothing you could offer me,’ Sarah said, feeling the first stirrings of anger deep inside her. For now she kept her voice calm and neutral, although tension gathered in her shoulders.

‘Nothing? I am a very wealthy woman.’

‘There is nothing you could offer me because, in a couple of weeks—sooner, if I find my sister—I will be leaving London anyway, and I don’t expect to have any further contact with Lord Routledge.’

Lady Shrewsbury frowned, studying her.

‘I do not want to seduce Lord Routledge, I do not wish to divert him from his plans to marry some young debutante his father approves of, I do not wish to prevent him from reuniting with his sister. All I want is to find out what happened to my own sister, and if Lord Routledge is kind enough to offer help with that then I am hardly going to refuse, am I, Lady Shrewsbury?’

There was silence in the carriage for a full minute as Lady Shrewsbury contemplated Sarah’s speech.

‘You are telling me if Lord Routledge came to you tomorrow and asked for your hand in marriage, you would refuse?’

Sarah laughed. ‘The question is preposterous. We have known each other but two days. Surely you have more faith in Lord Routledge’s judgement than that?’ She knew she should not speak in such a disrespectful tone, but Lady Shrewsbury had plucked her from her lodging house and was now accusing her of scheming to entrap Lord Routledge into marriage.

‘Sometimes a good and kind man can be taken in by an ambitious minx.’

‘Please Lady Shrewsbury, choose your words carefully. I may not be a Countess, but I think you owe me the courtesy of not insulting me so directly when you do not know me.’

Lady Shrewsbury sighed and looked out the window, irritation mixed with angst on her face. Sarah wondered if she was just a very good friend concerned for a man who had been hurt before, or if she harboured her own feelings for Lord Routledge.

‘If you had seen him after his wife’s death,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘And even the months before her death. His vitality drained away, sucked out by that scheming woman. She married him for the life she thought she would have with him, not for the wonderful person he was.’

‘I am sorry for what happened in his first marriage, but I am not Anne. I have no desire to marry a man of a vastly different social class. I have my own life to live, and once I find my sister I will be leaving London.’

‘Immediately?’

‘Yes, as soon as I have found my sister.’

Lady Shrewsbury looked thoughtful, and then leaned forward, placing her delicate hand over Sarah’s.

‘You must forgive me, my dear. If you had seen what a mess Lord Routledge was in a few years ago you would understand my concern. He is a good man, who sees the best in everyone. You may not be planning on using that to your advantage, but there are many who would.’

Sarah pressed her lips together, cautioning herself not to say more than was needed, but after a moment the words flowed anyway.

‘I think you do not give him credit. He is an astute man alongside his kindness and generosity. Yes, he was na?ve in matters of the heart once, but he was younger then and had less experience of the world. I do not think one mistake made years ago should be how he is judged today.’

‘You are forthright, Miss Shepherd,’ Lady Shrewsbury said sharply, and then relaxed again. ‘But I expect my husband would agree with your words. He is always telling me that Lord Routledge is a different man than the one who fell for Anne, that we should not expect him to make the same mistakes.’

‘Your concern for him is admirable,’ Sarah said, hoping if she said the right thing this interview would come to an end. ‘You must have been friends with him for a long time.’

‘Yes, from before my marriage to Lord Shrewsbury. Though my husband’s friendship with Lord Routledge goes back even further of course.’

Sarah fell silent, glancing out the window. She did not know London well enough to be able to recognise where they were, but already they must be a fair distance from her lodging house.

After a moment Lady Shrewsbury smiled brightly, the smile Sarah suspected she kept for when she had company.

‘Look at me, plucking you from your home and interrogating you. I am sorry, Miss Shepherd, my behaviour leaves a lot to be desired. Let me make it up to you. Come to Shrewsbury House for tea and cake.’ She held up a hand to quiet any protest. ‘I insist. It is the least I can do.’

‘That is very kind, my lady, but I have to focus my efforts in searching for my sister.’

‘One hour cannot hurt. And perhaps there is something that Lord Shrewsbury and I can do to assist your search. We have many contacts between us.’

Sarah was not quite sure why Lady Shrewsbury suddenly wanted her company, and she doubted there was much the Countess could do to assist in her search for Selina, but she knew she could not turn her down if there was even a miniscule chance she could help.

‘Thank you, that is very kind.’

‘Wonderful. Then we can get to know one another properly. This is going to be so fun.’

Lady Shrewsbury wasted no time in thumping on the roof of the carriage so it rolled to a stop. A moment later the liveried servant appeared at the window.

‘Tell Samuels to take us home.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Throughout the journey Lady Shrewsbury kept up a continuous flow of polite conversation, about nothing much at all, and within ten minutes they were rolling to a stop outside Shrewsbury House.

It was no less grand than she remembered, and Sarah had to tell herself not to be intimidate by the huge size of the house and the impressive facade. A footman opened the door as they stepped down from the carriage, and within a few seconds she had been swept inside.

They went straight to the drawing room where she had been seated on her previous visit to the house. Lady Shrewsbury stopped to ask a footman to arrange tea and cake.

‘Do sit down,’ the Countess said, positioning herself on one of the delicate chairs, perching on the edge and smoothing her skirts around her.

Sarah felt out of place in the beautiful room. She wore her practical dark blue work dress, which had been carefully mended over the years but still looked a little worn. She had another dress, in grey, which was much smarter, but she was keeping that for when she took up her position as music teacher. The Huntley family expected her to be presentable from the first day of her employment, even though she would not get her first wages for a week. Sarah planned to save up with the money she earned so she could buy a second respectable dress, before she started to put money aside for savings.

Everything in the Shrewsbury drawing room was shiny and gilded, and Sarah felt frumpy and plain. It wasn’t something that normally bothered her. She had made peace with her place in the world a long time ago, thankful that she had been fortunate enough not to need work as a kitchen maid from a young age. She might not have a fortune and a big house like Lady Shrewsbury, but she was much more fortunate than many young women in the world.

Self-consciously she touched her hair. At home Selina would often help her pin her hair, both of them enjoying the ritual of brushing through Sarah’s thick locks whilst she sat in front of the small mirror. From childhood they had taken turns to do the other’s hair, and it was one of the thousands of things Sarah missed about her sister now she was gone. Sitting for a few minutes, talking of their plans for the day or the latest gossip or even nothing at all, had been a wonderful way for them to stay close.

A minute later the door opened—a tray with a teapot and cups, as well as two slices of cake, was brought into the room.

‘I confess I often indulge in a piece of mid-afternoon cake. I find the gap between breakfast and dinner so very long if there is not something to sustain me mid-afternoon.’

Lady Shrewsbury motioned for her to take the second slice. Sarah picked it up before taking a bite. The cake was delicious, light and fluffy with a hint of lemon. She’d only tasted lemon once before, but it was a flavour that had stuck with her, luxurious and sharp.

‘Tell me about yourself, Miss Shepherd. You are from Sussex I think?’

‘Yes, a little town on the coast, St Leonards.’

‘I have heard of it. It must have been idyllic growing up by the seaside. I fondly remember trips to Brighton and Lyme Regis from my childhood.’

‘I feel very lucky to have spent my childhood there, yes,’ Sarah said, feeling on edge. She could not understand why Lady Shrewsbury had invited her to have tea and cake and share in small talk in her huge mansion, not so soon after accusing Sarah of trying to manipulate her friend into marriage. It was bizarre—she would have felt more comfortable if the Countess had dismissed her once she’d been assured there was nothing developing between Lord Routledge and Sarah.

‘And you came to London to find your sister.’

‘Yes. After I have tracked her down I have a job waiting for me in Kent.’

‘Oh?’ Lady Shrewsbury tried not to sound too excited, but failed as she leaned forward, placing the plate with the cake down on the table.

‘I have a position with a family to teach music. I am eager to start.’

‘That is what you wish to do with your life then, Miss Shepherd?’

Sarah considered the question. She loved music, loved the way she felt when her fingers touched the piano, gliding over the keys. She could get lost in music, taken away from the present for minutes at a time.

It was her passion in life, although becoming a music teacher was less so. She liked children, but instructing them day after day on how to play the piano was not how she would choose to spend her time if she had limitless opportunities. The fact of the matter was she did not. Her options were limited, and she was lucky enough that she could become a music teacher instead of searching for a position as nursemaid or general household servant.

‘Yes, my lady,’ she answered simply.

‘A noble profession, teaching young minds. I never was a quick study with music. I can play the piano of course, and sing, as all young ladies can, but it was not something that came naturally to me.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps you could play for me.’ She indicated the beautiful piano sitting at the other end of the room.

‘I don’t...’

‘It would make me very happy. I do love to listen to music.’

Sarah stood, smoothing down her skirt and moving towards the piano. She took her time, adjusting the position of the piano stool, wondering at the strange set of circumstances that had led to her being pressed to play the piano for a Countess, in a house she had broken into only a few days earlier.

She needed no music, selecting one of the pieces she knew from memory, and positioned her fingers on the keys. After a moment she began to play. As the clear notes rang out through the room, she felt some of the tension leave her. This was one of the reasons she loved to play the piano. Music was freeing—it allowed you to escape for a while, to float away on the musical notes. It brought people together. You did not need to be a certain class or creed to enjoy a perfectly composed symphony. For her it was a little more personal too. Her mother had been a talented pianist, her fingers gliding over the keys of their old piano.

When Sarah and Selina had been very young the piano had belonged to their next-door neighbour, who had invited their mother to play whenever she wanted. Although Mrs Shepherd was a very private person, she had not been able to resist this offer. Twice a week she would take her two young children to the kindly neighbour’s house and spend an hour playing. When Sarah was six their neighbour passed away, and much to the chagrin of the neighbour’s daughter, left the piano to Mrs Shepherd in her will. Every day, once the piano was moved to their modest cottage, Sarah and her mother would sit side by side as Mrs Shepherd taught her daughter everything she knew. Selina never had the patience to perfect the art of making music, although could play passably well, so it was a passion Sarah alone had shared with her mother.

Now she was playing one of her mother’s favourite pieces. As her fingers danced over the keys she felt a pang of sadness. With all the discoveries that had followed their mother’s death there had not been time to mourn her properly. Sarah had been caught up in a whirlwind—trying to stretch the little money they had to cover their expenses and pay for their mother’s burial, as well as tempering Selina’s excitement at the discovery of the letters from their father.

But she would not cry here, not in this house with Lady Shrewsbury looking on. This was not the place to mourn her mother.

After a couple of minutes of playing the door to the drawing room opened. Sarah glanced up and saw the portly figure of Lord Shrewsbury standing there. He was frowning, but when his wife gestured for him to come and sit with her he did so without comment. Sarah continued with the piece until the end. Once she had played the last note, she looked up at her audience of two.

‘That was exquisite, Miss Shepherd,’ Lady Shrewsbury said.

‘Yes, you are very talented. I beg your indulgence whilst I speak to my wife for a moment. Do take some more tea whilst we step out,’ Lord Shrewsbury added, taking his wife firmly by the arm and guiding her through the door.

It didn’t fully close behind them, and Sarah’s curiosity got the better of her. She took a few steps over to the door and listened carefully.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’

‘Henry has been running around London with her. Someone even saw them sheltering under a tree during a storm in the park.’

‘It is none of our business.’

‘Of course it is. Henry is our friend.’

‘Louisa,’ Lord Shrewsbury said, his voice firm, ‘you need to let the man live his own life. If he wants to gallivant around London with Miss Shepherd, then that is his choice. He is thirty-two and perfectly capable of looking after himself.’

‘Past endeavours suggest that is not entirely true.’

‘You cannot blame the man for falling in love. We were all young and na?ve once. He is hardly going to make the same mistake again, and if he does we have to let him. It is his life to live.’

‘I thought you were meant to be his closest friend.’

‘Friendship does not mean control, Louisa. It means supporting him whatever decision he makes.’ Lord Shrewsbury scoffed. ‘And tell me you haven’t noticed the spark in his eyes these last few days. The man has looked half-dead for two years, finally there is a bit of life about him.’

‘You cannot think she could be good for him. Maybe for a few days, a throwaway girl for fooling around with, but he has been through this before. What he needs is a wife from his own social class, someone he can introduce into society and who will become his Countess one day when he inherits the earldom.’

‘Someone who will make him miserable you mean?’

‘Oh, pish-posh. You do not know that. And even if he only finds his wife mildly tolerable, he will have other things that give him pleasure. His friendships, not being ostracised from society...’

‘Louisa...’

‘I’m not meddling.’

‘Then why is that young woman sitting in our drawing room looking petrified, no doubt wondering what to do when a Countess kidnaps her.’

‘I have not kidnapped her.’

‘I doubt you gave her much choice in coming here.’ Lord Shrewsbury sighed loudly. ‘I know you have a particular regard for Henry. I have made my peace with it, but you cannot keep interfering in his life. He is very patient with you, I know he holds you in high esteem, but he will push you away if he thinks you have overstepped the mark.’

The couple fell quiet outside the door and Sarah hastily made her way back to her chair, managing to refill her teacup and sit down before Lady Shrewsbury re-entered, followed closely by her husband.

‘Thank you for coming to take tea with me,’ Lady Shrewsbury said with a beaming smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘And for playing that lovely piece on the piano. Once we have finished, I will arrange for a carriage to take you back to your lodgings.’

Sarah smiled cautiously. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘And we wish you luck in your quest to find your sister. If there is anything we can do to help, then please just ask.’

‘You have been generous enough already,’ Sarah said. She did not want to owe Lady Shrewsbury anything, although if she thought any intervention from them would help her to find Selina quicker, then she would do whatever it took. But there wasn’t much the Countess could do at this time.

Quickly she drank her tea, eager to be out of the house and back in her own lodgings. Just as she was about to declare herself ready to leave, there was a murmur of voices in the hall outside.

‘Lord Routledge,’ the footman announced as Henry walked through the door.

He looked so surprised to see Sarah sitting there, drinking tea with Lady Shrewsbury, it was almost comical.