A nick on his fine, smoothly shaven face.
But even that would not explain the doctor arriving in a black carriage at the crack of dawn, marching into the abbey, and leaving an hour later without ever once visiting Meg’s chamber.
“I realize I was not myself last night in the garden.” As if his subdued conversations were the cause of her hesitancy. “But I do promise I shall be in brighter spirits today—as shall you, I imagine, once I share the news.”
News? About her?
“I shall be but a moment.” She smiled to soften the sobriety of her voice, then shut herself back into the chamber. As she fumbled through the motions of replacing her morning dress with a blue crepe gown and white spencer jacket, Lord Cunningham’s soft whistling echoed outside her door.
As if he hadn’t a care in the world.
She knew he had.
Pulling on white kid gloves, she met him again in the hallway and followed him outside the abbey, into the massive, yellow-painted stables with a slate roof. In the adjoining carriage house, he swept his hand to the shiny vehicle.
“My ostentatious indulgence.”
The landau, with its lowered roof and cushioned seats, was a brilliant blue. On the sides were delicate hand paintings ofAesop’s Fables, each scene depicted in gilded oval frames, like something one would view on the ceiling of a church.
“My father found moral lessons from the Bible rather overdone, so he illustrated life lessons through the magic of ancient Greek fables.” Lord Cunningham motioned the stable boy to hitch up the matching bays. “This rather eccentric reminder of all he had taught me was given as a …” She was not certain if he deliberately left the sentence unfinished or if he were only distracted by giving another order to the servant.
Either way, five minutes later she was sitting next to him on the cushioned seat, the sun in her eyes, as the carriage took her away from the only place in the world she knew.
With the only man she knew.
Despite his assurances he would be of a more cheery countenance, he said very little as the road wound them deeper into green countryside.
Her hands perspired inside the gloves.
Anxiousness stole through her, bouncing her heart as recklessly as the carriage jostled with the road ruts. She smelled cinnamon. She smelled earth. She smelled the endless scents of blossoms, grass, morning air—the aroma of freedom, even though she was the last thing in the world from free.
“You had news to tell me.”
He glanced at her with a reluctant smile. “You are remarkably courageous, dear girl. It was my thought to conceal this as long as I could, but you make that impossible.”
She sat straighter. “You discovered something.”
“Yes.”
“Who I am.”
“Yes again, my dear.” When he reached for her hand, she did not resist. The squeezing warmth of his fingers injected her with calm. “My steward was handling business in Sunderlin Downs yestereve. He returned last night with this.” Lord Cunningham pulled a folded newspaper from his coat.
She laid it in her lap, eyes blurring as she read over the circled print.WANTED. INFORMATION CONCERNING THE CITIZENMARGARETFOXCROFT OFJULESHEAD, N. CORNWALL. CITIZEN IS NINETEEN YEARS OF AGE,FAIR COMPLEXION,BROWN HAIR. THOSE WHO ARE ABLE TO GIVE CERTAIN INTELLIGENCE OF THE WHEREABOUTS OFMISSFOXCROFT,BEING LIVING OR DEAD,ARE REQUESTED TO DELIVER IT TO THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, MR. WILLMOTT OFJULESHEAD,IMMEDIATELY.
“I shall send two footmen to the village forthwith. I think it wise to investigate before returning you to unknown and perhaps dangerous circumstances.”
She closed the newspaper with a sickened pulse of her heart. “That will not be necessary.” Her chest shuddered. “I want to go home.”
“But Miss Margaret—”
“I want to go home. Now.”
CHAPTER 5
He couldn’t look at the place.
The air still smelled like smoke, ashes, and death. Not even Mrs. Musgrave’s rout cakes, as she ushered Tom and Joanie into her millinery shop, could banish the stench from his brain.
