Page 8 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“I don’t think we have any choice,” she said, reaching over and taking Cat’s hand. She squeezed, a silent show of support. “If Catherine does not want to leave, then she must stay, as the Marchioness of Kilbane.”

Chapter 3

Dearest Aggie,

I am so desperately sorry. We both knew Cat was reckless, but I never supposed… but what is there to say? I am devastated for her, and for you, for I know your heart will break on her behalf. I am here for you both, if ever you need me. I hope you know that? I hope you know I would do anything for you.

I wanted to speak with you tonight. I almost did so a dozen times, but each time my courage failed me. It seems I’m not half so brave as I supposed where you’re concerned, so I kept my tongue between my teeth and then the scandal broke and I lost my chance.

I will go back to university tomorrow and I think it may be some time before I can see you again. So, I pray you’ll forgive me for pouring my heart out in a letter, for I am afraid the sight of your beautiful face will scatter my thoughts and make me tongue tied. As it is, this is the fifth time I’ve written this out.

Aggie, I know we have been friends forever, but I think perhaps you know my feelings run deeper than this. I have dared to believe that my affections are returned, but I cannot go on in uncertainty now you are out in society. The truth is, I am in love with you, my dearest, dreadful girl. I believe I have loved you from the first time I laid eyes on you, before I really understood what the feeling meant. The things is, Aggie, I need to ask you not to go falling in love or marrying anyone else. You won’t, will you? If you do not return my affections, I should bow out and… Drat it all. I’m not rewriting this again, but I won’t bow out. At least, not without being certain you don’t want me. I should not force my attentions where they were unwelcome, but… hell, I’m making a hash of this now.

Damn it, Aggie, do you love me as I love you? I am half mad with it. I think of you constantly, I shall make myself ridiculous with fretting and pacing while I wait for your reply. Do not keep me in agony, love. Tell me if there is the slightest hope you return my feelings. Tell me at once.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Right Hon’ble Frederick Adolphus, (second youngest son of Their Graces, Robert and Prunella Adolphus, The Duke and Duchess of Bedwin) to Miss Agatha de Montluc (adopted daughter of Louis César and Evie de Montluc, Comte and Comtesse de Villen).

15th of February 1845, somewhere between Euston Station and Birmingham.

Emmeline smothered a yawn. She was weary to her bones but strangely alert, far too anxious to be able to fall asleep. They’d reached the train just after half past two in the morning, almost three hours ago now. Humboldt had told her the journey would take five and a half hours. Not that there would be any rest when they reached Birmingham. Wrexham was far too easily identifiable, and her father was a powerful and wealthy man, especially where the railways were concerned. Once he realised she was gone, he would find out who she was with. It might take him some time to figure it out, but he would, and then he would move heaven and earth to find her, despite her letter. She knew that.

A few weeks earlier there had been a remarkable story in the newspapers about a man who had murdered his wife with Prussic acid and then fled via the train. Someone had seen him leaving the house, and his description was sent via telegraph to the station at the end of the line. They had arrested him at Paddington station. Emmeline did not doubt her father would use this new technology to have eyes at every station in the country. So, they needed to be away from the railways as soon as possible.

“There’re sandwiches and biscuits if you’re hungry, Miss Knight?”

Emmeline looked up to see her new maid, Janet, regarding her with concern.

“I’ve some lemonade too, or some apple juice,” she added.

“No lemonade,” Wrexham muttered crossly.

Emmeline’s stomach growled, and she pressed her hands to it with chagrin. “I could eat something,” she admitted. “And perhaps a little apple juice. Wrexham, you must be famished too.”

Wrexham shook his head. His posture was stiff, tight lines fanning out around his eyes. Though he was as immaculate as ever, dressed with his usual exquisite style that stopped just short of flamboyant, he looked tense and exhausted.

“Bring enough for us both, please,” Emmeline said with a smile.

“What about Mr Humboldt?” Janet asked, casting the recumbent figure a dubious glance.

Emmeline smiled as a soft snore reached her ears. “I think Mr Humboldt is content enough for the moment, thank you.”

Janet nodded and hurried off to fetch their sandwiches.

“I said I didn’t want anything,” Wrexham grumbled, folding his arms.

“I know,” Emmeline said. “But you look tired and fretful and, if we add in an empty belly, you’re likely to become unpleasant. So you will do me a kindness and eat something.”

“My, but you’re bossy.”

“I am,” she agreed amicably. “I did warn you.”

He snorted, and then frowned, his expression fierce. Emmeline watched him as he shifted, certain he wanted to say something more.

“I dislike eating in front of people.”

She nodded, unsurprised. “I know that, but I am not people. I am to be your wife, and your means of staying safe. Tampering with your food is an obvious way to cause you harm, is it not?”

“You have a dark turn of mind.”