Page 9 of Against the Wind

“It was wrenching,” Abby agreed, “and it broke my heart, though I was powerless to do anything to help. Both marriages, it seemed, were doomed from the beginning. The baron died soon after Kit wed him, she told me, and the meager allowance provided her was swallowed up by the losses of the property held by the baron’s sons. In truth his sons had no desire to help her. So, Kit fled to Anne. When her sister took ill—the same sickness that befell their mother—Kit took up her care. But as Anne’s health worsened, Rutledge made clear his lecherous intent.”

Abby was gratified that Sir Martin listened so patiently, and by his look of both sympathy and anger as she told him of the assault by Rutledge and Kit’s actions in self-defense. His expression grew grave as the story finished, and when she was done, he thanked her and departed, vowing to search all of London if he must to find her. Abby bid him success in his search but wondered if Kit wished to be found by him. For herself, she had other ways of finding her friend.

“How was your evening at Willow House?” Ormond asked as he welcomed Martin into his library. Neither Lady Ormond nor John had yet arrived. Martin assumed it wouldn’t be long. He had spent most of the afternoon beginning his search.

He hesitated to answer, thinking of what to say as he surveyed the room, allowing the furnishings to distract him. They bespoke not just wealth but a desire for comfort. Burgundy velvet curtains drawn back from the windows that faced the street allowed into the room what lingering daylight remained. Leather chairs flanked a marble fireplace. Above the mantel was a painting of a foxhunting scene. All was very masculine. All was very Ormond. Martin wondered what sort of home he would create for himself if he ever settled down again. It was a question he’d thought long abandoned.

“An interesting question,” he finally said, but he offered no more. Where to begin?

He took the customary brandy Ormond handed him and settled into a comfortable leather chair. A moment later he said, “I found a woman.”

“Well.” Mouth curving into a wry smile, Ormond took the chair beside him. “Since we are talking about Willow House, I hardly find that surprising.”

“You misunderstand, my friend,” Martin corrected. “Not just any woman.”

Ormond did not reply at first. Then: “You found this woman at Willow House?”

“It’s not what you think. This is a lady I desire above all others, and she has since disappeared. Worse, the trail grows cold.”

Ormond shook his head. “I must say you have me a bit confused. Start at the beginning. Who is she?”

“Katherine, and she is a lady.”

“What the devil was a lady doing there?” Ormond asked.

“I know it sounds strange, and I would ask you to say nothing to anyone about her being there. The circumstances are most unusual. It seems her former nanny owns the establishment. The girl came there seeking refuge, and, well, there was a mix-up. Do you know the name Egerton?”

“There was an old Lord Egerton my father knew quite well. I thought he died. Is she his daughter?”

“Ah, no. But if it’s the same Lord Egerton, she was his wife. Now she is his widow. They weren’t married long before he died. Rather a sad tale, really. Lady Egerton’s only sibling, a sister, died as well as both parents. Kit—that is what she told me to call her—has few funds and nowhere to go, and according to the former nanny she is fleeing a desperate situation. In defending her honor, she killed her brother-in-law, the Earl of Rutledge.”

Ormond’s eyes were wide. “That sounds grim. Rutledge…I know the man. Not well, but I see him now and then. He has—or had—a nasty reputation for violence. It is even rumored he takes on the devil’s tasks when they serve his purposes.”

“Poor Kit.” Martin shook his head, truly dismayed.

“And in one evening you know you want her? She must be quite a prize.”

“She is, but perhaps for the sake of the lady’s honor I’ll not go into details. I vow I will find her if I have to turn over all of London, and you know I can do that.”

“Yes, I daresay you can.” Ormond shrugged. “When you find her, bring her here. My wife would welcome her. Mary is not a woman who judges. When we were betrothed, she mistakenly believed my former mistress was carrying my child and insisted I marry her instead!”

“That sounds quite the tangle.”

“I assure you it was. For weeks I carried with me a special license thinking I’d never get to use it. Fortunately it all came right in the end, but you can see why my wife would have no qualms about giving shelter to your Lady Egerton, whatever it was that happened.”

A knock came at the door, followed by Ormond’s “Enter,” and the butler stepped into the room. He waited to be acknowledged and, at his master’s nod, spoke.

“A young man has arrived, my lord. He says his name is Mr. John Spencer and that you are expecting him.”

“Ah, yes, we are, Jenkins. Let Cook know we’ll be another hour before dinner. Has her ladyship returned from visiting her mother?”

“Not yet, my lord. I will show the young man in and then see about Cook. Will there be anything else?”

“No, Jenkins. Thank you.”

The butler left and shortly returned with John, who was dressed as quite the dandy for dinner, no doubt wanting to impress the man he knew was the infamous Nighthawk. A flash of emerald green waistcoat peeked out from a royal blue jacket over cream-colored pantaloons. John’s brown curls had been neatly combed into place.

Ormond chuckled as John stepped in. “Good evening, John. It is good to see you again. I trust you are well?”