Chapter Two

S arah watched the expression on the man’s face change from mild interest to intrigue. It was a fascinating story she had to tell, at least it would be if she wasn’t so closely involved.

‘May I sit, Mr...’ She motioned to the comfortable chairs positioned in front of the fireplace.

‘Routledge,’ he said. ‘Lord Henry Routledge.’

She nodded, trying not to feel intimidated. There were not many titled gentlemen strolling around the streets of St Leonards where she and her sister had grown up. Her mother had raised them as well as she could within her limited means. She had given Sarah and Selina the education they would need to provide for themselves once they reached adulthood, teaching them to speak French and read Latin as well as play the piano and sew. Yet she could not prepare them for an interaction such as this.

‘Shall I start at the beginning?’

‘Please,’ he said, reclining back in his chair as if he had all the time in the world. She wondered about this man who seemed to prefer hiding away from the festivities downstairs, talking to her rather than returning to the dancing and the debutantes. He would be popular, there was no doubt about that. He had a title and probably the fortune that came with it, and he was charming. It was the easy charm of a man who had grown up confident in himself, knowing he would one day be one of the privileged few. When he smiled it was half indulgent, half knowing and even Sarah, who thought herself immune to most men’s charm, found herself leaning in, wanting to be that little bit closer to him, to bask in the warm glow that surrounded him.

She realised she’d been staring. He was smiling at her and she wondered if he thought her just another of the simpering girls that batted their eyelashes and tried to get his attention.

Quickly she sat a little straighter, forcing a serious expression onto her face, crossing her hands one over the other in her lap.

‘My sister Selina and I were raised by our mother. For most of our lives we were told that our father had been an officer in the army and he had died in a skirmish when we were young. Neither my sister nor I remember our father.’

‘He didn’t die?’

Sarah bit her lip. It went against everything she’d learned to reveal such a family secret to a stranger, but she had no choice. The truth was mortifying and would result in scandal if it were widely known, but she would have to tell Lord Routledge—or risk being hauled in front of a judge, accused of breaking into the Shrewsburys’ home.

‘My mother, God rest her soul, passed away six months ago. As we sorted through her personal papers we found letters sent to her from her lover. We were able to work out our father had not been in the army, and he had not died in a skirmish. From the scant details we gathered he was a gentleman.’

She risked a glanced at Lord Routledge and saw his expression had turned serious. He nodded slowly. ‘Unfortunately it is not an unfamiliar story. A gentleman gets a young woman pregnant and then refuses to marry her, because of family expectations or the need to marry someone from his own class.’

‘My mother was the daughter of a vicar. Her family was respectable, but from the letters in my mother’s possession it was clear they wanted nothing more to do with her after she met our father.’

‘You were born out of wedlock?’

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, hating the question. For twenty-two long years her mother had kept this secret, in the hope that Sarah and Selina might be able to avoid scandal and make good matches with decent young men. It felt like a betrayal of her memory to openly admit the truth.

‘We are not sure. There was some suggestion of a small wedding ceremony in one of the letters, but it is hard to tell. It is deliberately vague I think.’

‘What’s this got to do with your sister going missing?’ Lord Routledge asked.

Sarah sighed. ‘As I mentioned, six months ago my mother died and we found out our father might still be alive. However, I decided to focus on the future, to find a position as a music teacher and to try to forget the circumstance of my birth.’

‘You were not even a little curious as to who your father might be?’

Sarah shrugged. ‘Curiosity is all very well if you have nothing to lose, but I was not about to waste my time chasing a man who may or may not exist, and may or may not acknowledge us.’

‘I sense you are a highly practical person, Miss Shepherd.’ It should have been a compliment, but Sarah felt the sting of the barb as he said it. Her sister always called her practical, as if it were a character fault.

‘There is nothing wrong with being realistic,’ she said primly.

‘Am I to take it your sister held a different view?’

‘She was determined to find our father. Each day she came up with more and more fantastical stories to explain why he had abandoned us, and she convinced herself he must be waiting, tortured, in purgatory, not knowing how to find his daughters.’

Sarah sighed. Selina had always been a dreamer. She was impulsive and fun and the sister everyone wanted to spend time with. In anyone else it would be an annoying trait, but Selina was generous and loving, and Sarah couldn’t bring herself to feel any jealousy towards her. Most of the time.

‘Unlikely, but possible I suppose.’

Sarah gave a short, sharp laugh, without any hint of humour. ‘I would say the likelihood that our father wishes for his two long-abandoned daughters to turn up on his doorstep is close to nought.’

Lord Routledge could not argue. No man wanted his past indiscretions showing up to embarrass him in his current life.

‘Selina became so obsessed with finding our father that she gathered up my mother’s diary, and all the letters we’d found in her possession, and made her way to London. She thought she could piece together the little information we had, follow the clues and identify our father.’

Sarah sighed and closed her eyes. She should never have let her sister go. They’d argued about it and, one day, she had been at the end of her tether and told her sister to do as she pleased. It had been a careless comment, one she had regretted immediately, and the next day she had woken to find Selina’s bed empty and a note saying she had used her small savings on a ticket for the stagecoach to London.

‘She followed his trail to London?’

‘Yes. Each week she would write me a letter, detailing her progress, or lack of as it normally was, but in her last letter she wrote of her excitement. She thought she had really found something. She told me she was coming here to speak to Agnes Pepper, a maid in the Shrewsbury household, who she thought might have had a connection to our father. Her name was mentioned in an anecdote in one of the letters.’

Lord Routledge was sitting forward in his seat now. Sarah felt a surge of hope, and with relief realised it had been the right decision to tell him the whole truth. His interest in her tale might save her from being handed over to the authorities.

‘Which is why you are here.’

‘I waited patiently for a letter from Selina, but week after week nothing arrived. I grew so worried I wrote to my new employer, asking if they might allow me to search for Selina before I took up my position. They said I could have four weeks, but if I was not back after that they would find a new music teacher.’

‘So you have four weeks to find your sister.’

‘Two and a half. That is why I am so desperate to speak to Agnes Pepper. I would never have done something so risky as breaking into a house otherwise.’

‘Do you know, Miss Shepherd, I believe you.’

Slumping back in her chair, Sarah closed her eyes. She felt exhausted and overwhelmed. All she wanted to do was return home, to go back to the small house with a view of the sea, to hear the gulls calling overhead as she walked to the shops, to taste the salt in the air on her lips. All of that was gone now. She had packed up their belongings before she had left for London. They could no longer afford the rent and it was silly to waste money they didn’t have on a house they were not using.

‘What is your decision, my lord?’ Sarah asked, her voice weary. ‘Am I to be hauled off to gaol to await a date for a trial, or will you let me slip away?’

He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, as if still deciding.

‘I have an alternative proposition for you,’ he said, his voice low.

Sarah felt a stirring of something deep inside her, and quickly pushed it away. Now was not the time to be thinking about how Lord Routledge’s body had felt as he pinned her up against the wall.

‘Let me help you,’ he said.

‘Help me?’

‘Yes. I have heard your story, I am intrigued. I would like to help.’

‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘I find myself at a loose end at present. Parliament has a recess for the summer months, and I have no wish to retreat to the country. This matter piques my interest.’

‘I could not ask you to help me,’ Sarah said, feeling a surge of panic. She had confessed all the sordid details of her origins in the hope he might believe her story, but she had never thought he would want to get involved.

‘You do not have to ask. I am offering. Consider it for a moment before you answer. Not only do I help you escape from the Shrewsburys’ house without anyone else knowing you were ever here, I also have the contacts to arrange for you to meet with Agnes Pepper, without having to resort to nefarious methods. My name alone opens doors in this city.’

Sarah still hesitated.

Lord Routledge leaned forward, tapping her on the knee as if she were a faithful hunting dog. ‘Do not fear, I am not an imbecile. I will be very discreet when we are making our enquiries. There will be no mention of your possible illegitimacy, and no question of anyone impugning your honour.’

‘Then I accept,’ Sarah said. She was already filled with misgivings, but she had no other choice. If she refused his offer he may still send for the constable. There was no chance of finding Selina if she was incarcerated, and even a few days’ delay might be the difference between picking up her sister’s trail and losing it for ever.

‘Good. Let us get you out of here.’

‘What about speaking to Agnes Pepper?’

‘Tomorrow. Tonight we work on keeping those delicate little wrists of yours free from manacles.’ He stood and strode over to the door, opening it a crack. A weak light shone through, suggesting a candle still burned somewhere in the hall.

‘Wait here,’ he said, slipping out and disappearing from view.

He returned a few minutes later, holding a candlestick, with a grim expression on his face.

‘We have a problem,’ he said without preamble.

‘What?’ She hated any suspense, always wanting to know the worst possible outcome for any situation.

‘The guests have spilled out of the ballroom into the hall. If we start descending the stairs we will have to pass a half dozen guests, including our esteemed hostess.’

‘What about the servants’ stairs?’

‘Not an option either I’m afraid. They lead directly down to the kitchen, I just checked. There’s a lot of people down there.’

Sarah felt the panic begin to rise inside her. It must have shown on her face, for Lord Routledge stepped closer.

‘Do not fret, I have a plan. You wait in here until the guests move away from the hall or they start to leave. I will return for you, then and we can spirit you away.’

She glanced at the little clock on the mantelpiece. It was just after ten. She had never been to a ball like this before, but she suspected they went on until the early hours of the morning.

‘I could be in here for hours.’

‘Can you think of a better plan?’

‘Perhaps I could go back out the way I came,’ she said, moving towards the balcony doors. She paused on the threshold and looked down, swallowing hard. The descent would involve an initial leap over to the wisteria, whilst praying she caught hold of one of the branches, that it held her weight, then a shimmy down, which somehow seemed harder than going up.

‘The ballroom has grown warm and there are couples on the terrace, enjoying the evening air. I doubt you will make it halfway down without someone seeing you.’

She exhaled sharply in frustration.

‘Fine. It looks like your plan is the only option. Please do not forget about me whilst you are twirling with some simpering young woman who is angling to become Lady Routledge.’

‘I doubt that will be possible, Miss Shepherd. You make quite the impression.’

He moved to the door again, and Sarah had the absurd urge to call out, to ask him to stay with her. Quickly she suppressed it, biting back the words. She would be perfectly fine on her own here in the library. It was comfortable and cool and not altogether dark.

‘I shall return when I am able,’ Lord Routledge said, moving towards the door. ‘I should show my face again downstairs, or someone might wonder where I’ve got to. The last thing we want is anyone searching up here.’

Without a backwards glance he disappeared into the hall, closing the door swiftly behind him.

Sarah flopped back into the chair and looked around her. She wondered if she should conceal herself. It was unlikely anyone else would come into the library whilst the ball was ongoing, but not impossible. In the end she decided she would take her chance and sat in the comfortable chair. If she was going to spend hours in this room, there was no need to make it even more of an ordeal.