Chapter 19

CHAPTER

a

19

W in had just passed through the village and was trotting down the road to Dartmouth. The estate's entrance was up ahead.

He was glad to be home, but not glad either. He wasn't keen to be trapped with Agatha and Jasmine again, and his trip to London had been a total waste of time. He was worried about Charlotte, but it was silly to fret over her. He wouldn't mope and pine away!

They'd enjoyed a brief fling, but it was over, and despite how he'd proposed during their carnal assignation, he hadn't been sincere. He would never have married her, but he'd made a perfectly valid offer for her to be his mistress. She hadn't been interested and he had to cease wishing that they could have had a different ending. They weren't meant to wind up together.

His problem was that he liked her so much and he'd been tantalized by the prospect of being her husband. He'd never previously been so besotted and he wondered how long it would take for his affection to wane. What if it never waned? What if he missed her forever? Was it possible to be that desperately fond?

He reached the gate and he didn't have to guide his horse. The animal knew the route, so he was relaxing in the saddle and barely paying attention when it occurred to him that Boggs was approaching. He was carrying a packed satchel, as if he was traveling somewhere, which was odd.

In all the decades Boggs had worked for them, he'd never requested a holiday. He had no relatives scattered around the countryside, so there was no one for him to visit. What was he thinking?

Win called to him, "What's happening? Are you leaving us?"

He'd posed the question in jest, expecting there to be a simple explanation, so Boggs's reply was startling.

"Yes. I've quit. I already told your mother."

"I don't give you permission. Don't be ridiculous." Win nodded down the lane. "Return to the house. At once."

Boggs scoffed and rudely spat in the dirt. "The Dowager refused her permission too, but I'm fifty and a competent adult. This isn't the Middle Ages and you don't own me. If I choose to depart, I will. It's not up to you."

It was a belligerent remark that was completely out of character for Boggs. Obviously, an awful incident had transpired, one gripping enough to drive him away, but Win couldn't imagine a life without Boggs in it.

He dismounted and walked over to him. They were the same height, so they stared eye to eye.

"What's wrong?" Win asked. "You're distraught, but whatever it is, this can't be the solution. Where would you go anyway? You're being absurd."

Boggs stepped away, as if he needed to put space between them, then he said, "I have to finally share a terrible secret. I've kept it from you—because the Dowager and I have always conspired behind your back."

"Well, that sounds appalling. What is it?"

"I realize you assume I'm your servant, but I'm not. I'm hers. Not yours."

"I'm aware of that, but we get on fine. Don't we?"

Boggs didn't answer, but said, "After you hear what it is, if you would like to beat me or punish me in some other fashion, I'll understand. I won't protest any castigation you level."

"Boggs! Stop it! You're scaring and annoying me, so please just tell me."

Boggs took a deep breath, then stunned him by claiming, "Polly is your daughter. Not Holden's daughter. Not a distant cousin on your mother's side. She's yours."

Win's gaze narrowed and his temper flared. He wasn't sure what he thought about the revelation, but he opened his mouth and the first words that emerged were, "I don't believe you."

"That's certainly your prerogative, but I'm not lying. Her mother was a tavern wench in London. You sired Polly when you were a very randy seventeen. You were on furlough from the Navy, but by the time consequences arose, you'd shipped out and were never informed."

"What was her mother's name?"

"Peggy. She died in childbirth."

Win struggled to recall a chance romp with a tavern girl named Peggy, but nothing jogged his memory. "I don't recollect any such encounter."

Boggs shrugged. "I'm not surprised. For you, it would have been one illicit tryst among many."

"Why are you involved in the sordid situation?"

"Peggy had a friend who came to me with the baby. She couldn't care for Polly, and Polly didn't have any kin to speak up for her, so I spoke. The Dowager was planning to dump her in an orphanage, so she'd vanish and perish there, but I wouldn't let her."

"You forced Agatha to make concessions? Now, I really don't believe you."

Boggs shrugged again, not concerned one way or the other. "I demanded Polly be fostered by an appropriate family when she was small, then I insisted she be enrolled in a good school when she was older. In exchange, I agreed to be silent."

Win studied him and there was no sign of falsehood. Boggs didn't fabricate or spread outrageous tales. He was the most stoic, even-keeled person Win had ever met, yet the story was so farfetched.

Could Win have had a daughter for twelve years, but not know? Could Boggs have trotted along by his side—his trusted aide!—but calmly swallowed down such a bitter reality? Could Agatha have hidden such a dicey scandal? Was it possible?

Holden's marriage had proved she was capable of any duplicity. When Holden had wed Antoinnette, Agatha had recognized how furious Win would be, so she'd concealed it. Eventually, he'd discovered her treachery, and she'd promised to never betray him in the future, so he'd accepted her vow rather than bicker. If Boggs was correct, she'd been horrendously deceitful from the beginning, and it was in a manner that was as aggravating as it was malicious.

How could she have presumed she'd succeed? Then again, she'd managed it for over a decade, so perhaps it wasn't mad for her to think she could get away with it.

He thought about Polly, how much he'd liked her and enjoyed her company. She was smart and pretty, was poised and elegant. He'd assessed her and had instantly deemed her to be Holden's, but had he been looking at his own child? Could it be?

"Swear to me that this is the God's honest truth," he said.

"I swear. I colluded with your mother to your detriment and to Polly's, but I can't continue to ignore this. It's become too galling."

"What do you mean?"

"The Dowager didn't send Polly to school in Manchester. She sent her to be married into a merchant's family in London."

At the announcement, Win was so shocked that his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. He sat in the dirt, too astounded to move.

"She's twelve," he ultimately muttered.

"She's of age and the Dowager—as her guardian—was within her rights to arrange it."

"Are you positive about this?"

"Oh, yes. Their surname is Ludlow, but that's the only information I have about them. Your mother will have the pertinent details—if you can pry them out of her."

"I'll talk to her immediately."

"I hope you will," Boggs said, "and I also hope you'll rush to town and retrieve Polly from them. She deserves more than what the Dowager and I have dished out."

Boggs tipped his cap and marched off. Win pushed himself to his feet and hollered, "Boggs, wait! I'm very angry with you, but you don't have to go. I hate to picture you out on the road by yourself."

"For pity's sake, don't fret over me." Boggs halted and spun around. "I most humbly apologize for my conduct. I pray you'll forgive me someday, and if you decide to locate Polly, please tell her that I'm sorry I didn't do more to help her. I shouldn't have let the Ludlows take her without a fight."

"I will tell her that and I will fetch her to Dartmouth. I promise I will. I'll make sure she's safe from this point on."

"I will pretend that you're serious."

He whipped away and started off again and Win called, "Boggs, don't leave. You don't have to."

Boggs glanced over his shoulder, his tired gaze poignant and stern. "I can't stay, my lord. I'm ashamed of myself and I loathe your mother. I regret to state that I don't exactly like you either. You are a pompous beast, but you can be kind too. I wish you would allow your better nature to shine through more often. If I ever ponder you, I will convince myself that it's how this story ends."

Then he kept on, his back ramrod straight, his strides even and firm. Win didn't chase after him, for he couldn't accept that he'd disappear for good. He figured Boggs would spend a few weeks fuming on his own, then he'd return home where he belonged. Win couldn't fathom any other conclusion. Yet it was clear he didn't really know Boggs.

In all the years they'd been together, where Boggs had loafed on the fringe of his world, he'd been conspiring with Agatha. Win had always supposed that Boggs had a relationship with Agatha that didn't include Win, but he'd never suspected it would involve such treachery.

Once Boggs was swallowed up by the trees, Win walked the rest of the distance to the manor. He could have ridden there, but he was too stunned to mount his horse. A footman came out to greet him and he handed over his reins, then went inside. When he asked after Agatha, he was directed to her boudoir, where she was locked away with Jasmine.

He trudged up the stairs and hovered in the hall, awhirl with questions and comments. After Holden's death, they'd managed to avoid a split. They'd carried on as if Holden's tragedy hadn't happened, as if they'd played no part in it. They were adept at putting on blinders, at refusing to see what was right in front of them.

What about now? With her scheme revealed, what would be left?

He had his own transgressions to repair over Polly. He'd ordered Agatha to have her secretary provide him with the details about her school, so he could check for himself that it was a suitable facility, but he'd traipsed off to carouse in town without worrying that he hadn't received what he'd requested.

What was wrong with him? How had he grown to be so uncaring and aloof?

He was disgusted with himself, and he was about to quarrel with his mother in a bitter, depressing way. They truly were a horrid family, and Boggs—who'd served them for fifty years—was correct to loathe them.

He stopped at her door and was prepared to knock, when he noticed it was ajar and Jasmine was saying, "Will Boggs tattle to Winston?"

"No," his mother replied. "He quit, packed his bags, and slithered away forever. Trust me on this: He spoke to me so rudely that he won't dare show his face here ever again, so we won't have to fuss with him."

"What if Winston discovers that I paid the dowry to Mr. Ludlow? He'd be so angry. How would I ever justify it?"

Agatha responded with, "We have to hope, should he ever be apprised, that it will be far in the future, after you've been married for ages. By then, he probably won't even remember the girl—and you can lie to him about it."

It's what Win had done after Holden perished. He'd acted as if the situation didn't exist and had moved on, but he'd reached a point where he couldn't ignore the problems that vexed him.

He pushed the door so forcefully that it swung around and hit the wall with a loud crash. The two women were seated on chairs over by the hearth, their heads close as they plotted their mischief. They reminded him of witches stirring a cauldron filled with evil spells.

"Winston!" Agatha coolly chided. "Your dramatic entrance was completely unnecessary. What do you need?"

"Where is Polly?"

She tsked with exasperation. "At her new school. Why?"

His rage flared to such a height that it frightened him. "I bumped into Boggs out on the lane. He confessed your perfidy, so I ask again: Where is Polly?"

"Honestly, Winston. You're being a beast and Jasmine and I are discussing the wedding. You've blustered in and interrupted us. Please go away."

He shifted his focus to Jasmine and she was very young. She hadn't yet developed Agatha's ability to prevaricate and shield herself from consequences. He said to her, "I will give you one chance to explain yourself. What's this about the dowry you paid?"

Jasmine was candid when she shouldn't have been. "Of course I paid it. I was certain, should you learn about your parentage, you'd want to bring her into our home and demand I be her mother. I wasn't about to be put in that position."

"You knew about this?" His voice dripped with venom.

"My mother knew," Jasmine admitted, "and she told me before she passed away. When you initially became interested in me, my father and I conferred about the predicament with Agatha. We agreed that it had to be handled discreetly. And I handled it. Don't scold me for taking the proper steps. I was thinking of us and our life together."

Win was so shocked that he was frozen with astonishment, but he quickly shook it off. He went into the hall and bellowed for a servant. In a hasty minute, a footman appeared and said, "Yes, my lord, how may I assist you?"

"Lady Jasmine is departing immediately. I expect her to be in her carriage and rolling down the road in half an hour. Notify the butler, so he can assign people to make it happen."

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it at once."

He dashed off and Win stomped into the boudoir again. "Jasmine, go down to the front foyer and wait there for your belongings to be hauled down."

She grumbled with offense. "You're being ridiculous. I haven't done anything wrong."

"I'll call on your father in a few days," he said. "Until then, you and I won't socialize and our betrothal will be on hold."

"You're being so unreasonable! She's a bastard daughter, sired on a tavern wench, but you're acting as if she's a princess. We followed the accepted path with her, so don't pretend that we've committed some dreadful sin."

"Your attitude about this is very disturbing to me. I suggest you be silent or you'll dig such a deep hole that you can't crawl out of it."

Agatha butted in with, "Jasmine is correct. You're being totally perverse and we hardly need all this melodrama. Why don't you calm down and we'll debate this tomorrow?"

"I have no desire to calm down." Jasmine hadn't moved and he said to her, "If you don't exit this room in the next five seconds, I will drag you down."

The threat spurred her to her feet and she hurled a caustic remark. "You don't have to be such an ogre about it. Your reaction is exactly why we never confided in you. We figured you'd behave just this stupidly."

"Go! Now!" He shouted the words. He couldn't remember ever previously shouting at a female and it definitely got her attention.

She scurried out, giving him a wide berth, as if he were a lunatic who'd wandered in by accident. Her strides faded, then he yanked his hot gaze to Agatha. She was still seated on her chair, and she was sipping a cup of tea, as if no disaster was playing out between them. Nothing ever fazed her.

She scoffed with disgust. "Are you happy? Jasmine will probably cry all the way to town."

"She won't cry. She'd have to have a heart to be distraught and it's clear her chest is an empty cavity." He gestured around her sitting room. "I assume you have information about the Ludlows buried somewhere in this house. Will you make it easy on us both and tell me how to locate Polly? Or will you force me to search through your private papers?"

"Why would you want to find her? You can't bring her back. I won't permit it and Jasmine doesn't wish to be her mother."

"As with Jasmine and her ludicrous opinions, perhaps you should be silent too before you wind up in more trouble with me than you already are."

"The girl has been delivered to a wealthy, stable family, and in light of her low ancestry, it's much higher than she ever deserved. She's fine right where she is. Leave her there."

"Be silent!"

She had a writing desk in the corner, and he tromped over to it, riffled in the top drawer, and instantly stumbled on the details he sought. She'd been so cocky in her subterfuge that she hadn't even tried to hide it.

He folded the nuptial contract and stuck it in his coat, then he said to her, "I'm commanding you to stay in this room. You'll eat in here and you'll receive no guests. You will obey me in this or you will regret it forever."

"Winston! It's obvious your wits have been addled."

"Yes, I'm feeling crazed, so you'd better be careful. There's no predicting how I might lash out at you."

He started out and she asked, "Where are you headed?"

"I'm off to London to fetch my daughter home. While I'm away, you should contemplate where you'd like to reside in the future, for after I'm back—with my only child—you won't be living with us."

He stormed out, pausing to spin the key in the lock. He would speak with the butler and provide instructions to keep her there until he returned. The staff would be surprised—and even a tad alarmed—by the edict, but the servants always knew the worst secrets. No doubt they were aware of Polly's existence and none of them had ever tattled.

Polly had suffered due to their combined reticence, so he had twelve years of wrongs to repair. And he intended to begin immediately.

v

Polly was in her bedchamber at the Ludlow house. Since she'd refused to marry Charles, she hadn't been allowed to step outside of it. Meals had been delivered. She hadn't been escorted to the shop to work. Charles hadn't visited to teach her her wifely duties.

The maid who'd helped her dress for the wedding had whispered that the ceremony hadn't been held. The vicar had claimed he needed advice from his bishop about how to proceed. Mr. Ludlow was in a lather and no one could guess what would transpire next. Bets were being placed among the footmen that Polly would be kicked out on the street, with just the clothes on her back, and that Mr. Ludlow would keep the dowry money as damages.

She was terrified and frantically speculating over how to garner some assistance if she was evicted. The maid had mentioned that there was an orphanage near her church, and Polly thought she could walk there and ask the adults to contact Miss Charlotte for her. Other than that possibility, she had no idea what to do.

She was sitting by her narrow window, peering out at the cloudy sky, when there was a loud knocking down on the front door. The Ludlow mansion was very large, so she was quite a distance from the foyer, but a man had arrived and he was very upset. She could hear him hollering clear up in her isolated corner.

After a bit, heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs and they were marching in her direction. They stopped out in the hall and it sounded as if several people were milling.

Braced for any eventuality, she rose to her feet as someone grabbed the knob and spun it. Finding it locked, the man ordered, "Open it! Right now."

There was a moment of delay as the key was inserted, as it was turned. The door banged open and ... ?

Lord Dartmouth was standing there. She was afraid she was hallucinating and she had to blink three times to be sure it was really him. Miss Ludlow and a few of the servants were arrayed behind him. He loomed in like an avenging angel and he hurried over to her and said, "Polly! There you are! They haven't hurt you, have they?"

"No, no, I'm fine. They scared me, but they didn't hurt me."

He glanced over his shoulder at Miss Ludlow and warned, "I will thoroughly interrogate her. If she was harmed in even the slightest way, Mr. Ludlow will have to pay a very steep price."

"Your mother gave her to us," Miss Ludlow insisted, as if Lord Dartmouth had failed to grasp a vital point.

"Shut your mouth!" he seethed. "I'm sick of the sight of you! Go away!"

He bristled with such rage that Miss Ludlow and the servants skittered off like busy mice.

He shifted his focus to her and, once they were alone, he said, "Let's get you out of here. You don't have any important belongings to pack, do you? We can leave it all, and when we have an extra minute, I'll buy you new."

"Where are we going?"

"First, to my town house. Then, after we catch our breath, we'll continue on to Dartmouth."

"Is Miss Charlotte there?"

"No, she left, but we'll locate her and bring her with us."

Polly nodded. "If Miss Charlotte can come, then I'll accompany you. It's occurred to me that, whenever I'm separated from her, bad things happen to me."

"I was thinking the very same. Bad things happen to me too when I am separated from her. We'll bring her along and both of our lives will be better for it."

v

Win and Polly stood in front of the Cronenworth's dismal house. It was still boarded up, but he'd been hoping matters might have changed, that a person would be present who could provide information about Charlotte, but it remained abandoned.

He'd knocked on Antoinette's door to learn if there had been any gossip, but there had been no more rumors. His next stop would probably be to visit the prison to speak with Arthur Cronenworth. Other than that, he had no clue of where to implement a search.

He'd whisked Polly away from the Ludlows, and they'd headed to his own residence, where he'd had her fed and tended. When they'd still been at the Ludlow home, he'd suggested she discard her meager possessions, but in the end, she'd taken them all.

She didn't have much and she'd been loathe to relinquish even the smallest item, so as she'd tidied up, she'd had some clean clothes to wear. He had no knowledge of how to dress a young girl though, one who was on the verge of becoming a young lady, but he supposed he had to figure it out quickly.

He'd talked to Antoinette about buying a wardrobe for Polly, and apparently, a seamstress would be required, just as if she'd been an adult. There were ready-made garments available too, at the posher emporiums, and before they departed for the country, he would fill a trunk with everything she needed. She was an earl's daughter and she had to be attired like it.

He hadn't told her that he was her father. He couldn't deduce how to raise the subject and it seemed wrong to just blurt it out. Considering how uninvolved he'd been in the past, he wasn't certain she'd be glad to hear he was her parent.

He kept scrutinizing her, then he'd realize he was gaping and he'd look away. She'd noticed his heightened attention, but she was too polite to ask why he was gawking.

"I like Mrs. Wainwright," she said, referring to Antoinnette. "She's nice and very pretty."

"She is nice," he agreed, "and my brother thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. It's why he married her."

"She's not the most beautiful. Miss Charlotte is much prettier."

He chuckled. "You might be right about that."

"Miss Charlotte's relatives are in jail for embezzling. It means they were stealing, doesn't it?"

"Yes, they were stealing," he said, "from a shipping company they own."

Polly wrinkled up her nose. "Miss Charlotte didn't like them. Her stepmother was very cruel to her and her stepbrother was lazy and stupid. She won't be surprised to have learned that they're in trouble with the law."

He spat out a laugh. "Charlotte has a definite way with words."

"I hate that she arrived and found the place like this. It had to be so frightening. I wonder where she is."

"Antoinnette said she was planning to speak with her stepbrother at the prison. I'll drop you off at my town house, then I'll visit him too. She might have mentioned where she was headed."

"Could I go with you?"

"No. It's a foul spot and not suitable for you."

"I will wait for you at your home, so long as you promise you'll come back for me as fast as you can. You can't leave me there one second more than necessary."

"I will always be there for you," he solemnly swore. "From this moment on, I'm sticking to you like glue."

A carriage rolled up and halted. A man climbed out and he appeared to be a lawyer or clerk. He was wearing a bowler hat, brown suit, and spectacles. He had a key and he unlocked the chain on the door.

Win and Polly stared at each other, identical brows lifting, then they hurried over to intercept him.

"Excuse me, sir," Win said as they rushed up, "but could we ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course," the man said. "How may I help you? The house is for sale. Are you interested in purchasing it? If you'd like, I can give you a tour."

"No, thank you. We're pursuing a different issue. I am Winston Wainwright, Lord Dartmouth."

"My goodness!" The man bowed quite deferentially. "I am very honored to meet you. I am Mr. Boswell Coswell, Attorney at Law. What do you need? Whatever assistance I can furnish, I am happy to supply it."

"This is my ward, Miss Polly," he said. "She was formerly a student at Mrs. Pemberton's Academy for Girls. Charlotte Cronenworth was her teacher and they are very attached. We were expecting to see her and we were stunned to find the house shuttered. I guess there's been a legal mishap, but are you aware of where Miss Charlotte might be?"

Mr. Coswell bowed to Polly too. "Are you truly the infamous Miss Polly?"

Polly blushed charmingly, liking to be singled out. "I am Polly, Mr. Coswell, but I can't admit to being infamous."

"We've been worried about how you were faring, and yes, I know Miss Charlotte's whereabouts. She's at Thornhill Manor. With her sister, Theo?"

Win gasped with astonishment, Polly with delight, and Polly said, "She's with her sister? That's marvelous news."

Win asked, "Where is Thornhill and how did she wind up there?"

"It's a very tangled tale," Mr. Coswell replied. "Miss Theo—pardon me, but I keep forgetting to call her Lady Thornhill—is recently married to my master, Jackson Bennett. He's Lord Thornhill. Have you heard of him?"

Polly shook her head, but Win said, "Yes, I've heard of him. I imagine the entire kingdom has. There were articles about him in the papers."

"He unraveled the embezzlement that had been occurring at the family's company of HH Imports," Mr. Coswell explained. "While saving the day, he fell madly in love with Lady Thornhill and wed her as rapidly as he could. They're living at Thornhill now, instead of in the city."

Polly clapped her hands. "What a romantic story!"

Mr. Coswell gazed at Win and said, "You haven't been introduced to Lord Thornhill?"

"No. I haven't had the pleasure."

"Why don't the two of you come in and I will tell you what I can about what happened. The furniture is still here, so we can sit and chat. I'll jot down the address to Thornhill if you'd like to write to Miss Charlotte."

"I don't want to write to her," Polly said. "I want to check on her in person." She glanced up at Win and inquired, "Could we travel there?"

"Yes. We can go as soon as we have a minute to pack."

Mr. Coswell was a cordial, welcoming fellow and he said to Polly, "Miss Charlotte has been very concerned about you, so she will be thrilled to have you arrive. You have to let me boast and claim that I sent you to her."

Polly chuckled. "I will let you boast about it."

"Are you certain Charlotte is all right?" Win said to Coswell, not yet completely assured.

"She's fine, my lord. She's had some rough months. Her school closed, so she lost her job, then she had her heart broken by a scoundrel." Coswell glared in a stern manner, apprising Win that his identity at Thornhill wouldn't be a secret. Then he kept on. "But she's tough and she's healing fast. After a few more weeks have passed, I'm betting she won't even remember the horrible knave who devastated her."

Win snorted at that. Coswell offered no more of his sly insults. He just opened the door and they went inside.