Chapter 14

C hapter 14

My mind was a whirl the entire ride home. How could so much have happened in one day? Finding Nathaniel at the tavern, calling a truce, dashing through the streets, meeting his parents. And those last minutes together, when I’d practically wrestled the man to prove a point. To prove myself. Just the memory sent a rush of heat to my belly—and my cheeks. He’d had his arms wrapped around me, holding me firmly against him, and I hadn’t minded one bit. I’d had to force myself to pull away.

It was absurd. I hardly knew Nathaniel Denning.

But you know some things , a small voice inside me said. You know enough.

Enough for what? To care for him? To kiss him?

No.

I could not let myself get involved with anyone. I knew what I wanted, and love did not factor into my future.

It wasn’t that I did not believe in love. I did. It was a force to be reckoned with, a force that could build and grow into something beautiful. But it could also destroy a heart. I’d seen it firsthand, and I would not wish such sorrow on anyone.

Why, then, did I find that so hard to remember when Nathaniel looked at me with knowing in his eyes?

It was just because I was lost, I decided. Only a few months ago, I’d had a plan. I’d known how to achieve my goals. But now that thief-taking was no longer my path, I needed a new road to independence. Once I found that, it would reaffirm my determination. These feelings I had for Nathaniel, they were fleeting. He was a means to an end: solving this case for Elizabeth. And once we did that, our acquaintance would cease, surely.

I arrived home at half past ten o’clock. It was fully dark, the hackney’s lanterns flickering as I descended from the coach. I tried to pay the jarvey, but he said Nathaniel already had. I frowned as I closed my reticule. Nathaniel had a family to support. He did not have money to spare for a hired hack. My resolution strengthened. I would help him earn that reward.

I let myself in the front door and closed it silently behind me.

“Verity?”

Apparently not so silently. I furrowed my brow, following Mama’s voice to the parlor. Should she not be at Drury Lane? I had been certain no one would notice my late return. Grandmama always retired early.

I slipped off my bonnet as I entered, more than a little apprehensive. Mama stood near the window, arms crossed as she watched me. Her face was difficult to read, hidden in shadow, and she did not speak.

“I thought you were performing tonight,” I said to fill the silence.

“No,” she said stiffly. “Not tonight. And you can imagine my surprise when you did not show for dinner ... or for hours after.”

“I am sorry I am so late,” I hurried to say. “I was with Elizabeth, and—”

“That was not the Harwoods’ coach.”

I blinked. “No, I—I hired one, because—”

She held up one hand. “I have spent the last few hours pacing and worrying. I had no idea where you were, Verity. Whether you were dead or alive. So what you say next had better be the truth.”

“I was working my case,” I said, my voice holding an edge I’d never heard from it. “The one I told you about.”

“And where did this case take you?”

I hesitated. “The docks.”

She stared at me. “You were down at the docks after dark, alone ?”

“I am quite used to my own company these days,” I said a bit shortly.

Mama stilled, staring at me. “What?”

I shouldn’t have said that. I hadn’t meant to. But the long day was dragging at me, my emotions worn and frayed at the edges. “Nothing,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ll send a note next time.”

Mama shook herself from her stupor. “There won’t be a next time, Verity. I’ve tried to allow you your space, your independence, but this goes too far.”

“And I have no say in my life?” I asked hotly.

“When you are foolish enough to put it in danger, then no.”

“I wasn’t in danger,” I insisted. Not very much, at least. Nathaniel had ensured that.

She threw her hands in the air. “This is just like last time.”

“No. No, it isn’t.”

Mama didn’t hear me. “You’ve gotten in over your head again. You must see it. You must stop.”

A strange anger clawed up my throat, but I pushed it back. Mama and I never quarreled. We had disagreements but nothing like this.

“You don’t know anything about this case,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Besides, I’ve learned from my mistakes. What happened three months ago won’t happen again.”

“You cannot know that.” She took a step closer. “Verity, this is foolishness. Why can’t you see that? This is not the life for a young lady.”

Oh, but that was the wrong thing to say.

“A familiar admonition,” I said tightly. “Is that not what everyone told you about becoming an actress?”

Mama was shaking her head before I finished speaking. “That is entirely different. There is no danger in what I do.”

“Save for libertine earls.”

“We’ve talked about this,” she insisted. “You know the whole story.”

I did. She’d told me herself when I was a girl, how the handsome earl had seen her on stage and fallen in love with her. How he’d wooed her and promised to marry her. How she’d fallen for his false sincerity and found herself pregnant. How she’d borne him a son and then a daughter. He’d broken Mama’s heart countless times, but then he’d shattered it when he’d eventually married—a widowed baroness with a fortune.

The first memory I had of my father was when I’d been four or five. Mama had dressed me up like a doll, every perfect curl in place. He’d looked me over, declared me a pretty, pleasant girl, and that was it.

The second had been when I was sixteen. Mama had wanted to introduce me into Society—not as my father’s daughter, of course—never that—and had brought me to see him. He’d asked me all sorts of questions about my schooling, my skills, my connections, and had seemed satisfied.

“She’ll make a decent wife,” he’d said to Mama as I’d been dismissed.

A decent wife. All my years of life boiled down to that.

I knew then I would be no one’s wife. And I’d made certain my father knew it too.

“You must give this up,” Mama said, bringing me back to the present. “This hopeless aspiration of yours. You’ve opportunities I could never have dreamed of. You can find a good match, settle down—”

“I don’t want to settle down,” I said. “And I don’t want the opportunities you’ve forced upon me. They are all based on lies.”

A quick intake of breath, as if she could not believe I’d said it. “Lies to protect you,” she said. “To safeguard your reputation.”

“And if I did marry?” I asked. “Am I to continue lying to my husband? Pretend my father died young when in truth I am the illegitimate daughter of a peer who refuses to acknowledge me? How could I do that to anyone, let alone someone I might love?” I shook my head. “That is not the life I want, trapped by a falsehood.”

She sank heavily on the sofa. “That is not—” But her voice broke off. She shook her head and tried again. “I never meant—”

“I am tired,” I whispered. “Good night, Mama.” I hurried from the room, my emotions chasing after me, tears clouding my vision. I darted up the stairs to my room, throwing my bonnet in the corner as I swiped at my blurry eyes. Why must everything be so complicated? Why could my life not take the course of so many young women’s—simple, sweet, happy?

I fell into bed and covered my face with my arms. I hadn’t meant to fight with Mama. I knew how much she had done for me, and I knew she worried for me. But she did not seem to know what I wanted, and neither did she care to learn.

I closed my eyes, taking long, deep breaths to calm my rapid heartbeat. Sleep, I told myself. I needed a good night’s rest. Everything was better after sleep.

I was only partly right. When I woke at first light, my emotions had thankfully settled. But my head pounded with a rapid staccato, a reminder that crying did not suit me in any way. My eyes were still red and puffy when I faced myself in the small mirror above my dressing table.

“What a stunning creature you are, Verity Travers,” I muttered as I pinned my hair into a hasty bun. “A diamond of the first water, indeed.”

Mama was not yet awake when I descended the stairs. Neither was Grandmama, though I could hear the movements of Pritchett and Cook belowstairs, preparing for the day. My stomach rumbled, but I did not want to risk meeting Mama before I knew what to say to her.

I opened the front door and slipped outside, the chill April air clinging to me and filling my lungs. I pulled my pelisse tighter about me as I started along the street.

And came to a sudden halt.

Nathaniel leaned against the gate two doors down, reading a newspaper and looking far more like a painting than he had any right to. The hazy light of dawn brushed his features with gold, and he held himself with such easy confidence. Heavens, the man was handsome. Perhaps it might have been better if the magistrate had appointed Nettleton to the case—at least then I wouldn’t have to fight my blasted attraction every step of the investigation.

Nathaniel straightened when he saw me, folding his newspaper. “Good morning.”

“Oh,” I said, rather inventively. “I—I thought we would meet at the docks.”

He gave a rueful smile. “I had thought the same, but Mother nearly boxed my ears last night when I mentioned it. She insisted I accompany you.” He ran a hand through his hair, as though self-conscious. “My rooms aren’t far from here. It wasn’t a hardship.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why did you not share my carriage last night? We might have returned together.”

He shrugged. “I needed the walk.”

I almost asked why but only just stopped myself. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

We fell into step together and walked a minute in silence before he cast me a sidelong glance. “Did you not sleep well? You look tired.”

I gave a little laugh. “One would think that you of all people would know how to flatter a lady, Sir Chivalry.”

I’d meant to say it dryly, with humor, but his nickname came off too soft.

He caught my eyes with his. “I am not aiming at flattery today,” he said. “I thought to try concern.”

Concern. For me.

“I am fine,” I said, though his words spun a fragile thread around my heart. “It’s nothing to do with the case.”

“And that means I cannot help?”

“No, it’s just—” I took a steadying breath. “It is a family affair. A somewhat complicated one.”

“I see.”

He said nothing more, which was for the best. We needed to focus on our work. The sooner we found Higgs, the sooner Nathaniel could claim his reward and I could stamp out the threat against Elizabeth’s reputation.

“How should we go about our task today?” I asked.

“There was a coffee shop on the corner near the tavern,” he said. “We can likely see well enough from there.”

“Let us hope our friends from last night don’t return,” I muttered.

“That is the benefit of them being ridiculously foxed,” he said. “They likely don’t remember a thing. Though I wouldn’t mind another go at any of them.” He flexed the knuckles of his right hand and winced. “Or perhaps not.”

“You hurt yourself last night,” I realized rather belatedly. “Fighting that man.”

Why had I not noticed during our time together at his parents’ home? Likely because I could not keep my eyes from his face.

Nathaniel grinned. “Fighting is a generous term. For him, I mean.”

“You should have told me,” I said. “My grandmother makes a very effective poultice for bruises.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Does she?”

“It also wards off evil spirits,” I said. “As a bonus.”

Now he laughed. “A veritable cure-all, is it?”

I smiled for the first time that morning, though my heart warned me through it all. Take care , it whispered. Take care.

“Let’s cross here,” Nathaniel said, offering his arm as he looked down the street for any oncoming carriages.

I hesitated, then wrapped my hand around his arm, and he tightened it against his side.

“Miss Travers!”

My head jolted up. Who was calling my name?

I saw her in the next instant, running toward us down the street. It was Marianne, Elizabeth’s maid, her bonnet dangling from its ribbons around her neck, her skirts tangled in her legs.

“Miss Travers,” she gasped as she reached us, nearly bowling me over. “Thank goodness I found you. And Mr. Denning too. They already sent a message to Bow Street.”

I grasped her elbows to steady her. “What on earth, Marianne? Are you all right?”

Marianne waved me off, still catching her breath. “It’s not me, Miss Travers. It’s Miss Harwood.”

“Elizabeth?” I shot a bewildered look at Nathaniel hovering protectively nearby, eyes alarmed. “What’s happened?”

“Have you seen her?” she asked, her voice desperate. “Please say you have seen her.”

I shook my head. “Marianne, tell me.”

“She’s missing.” Marianne was pale as the early dawn. “Elizabeth is gone.”