Page 24 of The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes

“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Saunders.” Rising, Nathan put half a crown on the table. “For your trouble, sir. I am off to tell Miss Burrowes we may find Mary yet.”

“Good luck, my lord.” Mr. Saunders raised his glass to Nathan before downing it.

With a real measure of confidence finally in his heart, Nathan hurried out of the taproom. He’d be packed up and on his way in half an hour. Although his first instinct was to go straight to Essex, he’d be in trouble if he didn’t return to London to inform Amelia and the others. Besides, Amelia would need to go with him to persuade Mary, if indeed they found her, to part with the letters. If she still had them. They were still in a hobble, but perhaps, with just a bit more luck, they could find a way out.

As he tossed clothing into his valise, Nathan’s spirits rose. He’d be home by this evening and in Amelia’s company again tomorrow. His body stirred, showing its ever-present desire. Not long to wait now, with the wedding just days away. And the possibility of Amelia’s vindication at last within their grasp. Yes, today had been a good day, and with God’s good grace, there would be a lifetime’s more.

* * * *

Two days later, Amelia stood with Nathan before a pretty little cottage on the edge of the village of Toot Hill. They’d arrived an hour ago and had just made an inquiry at the only public house there. The innkeeper himself had given them the direction to Mary Carr’s cottage.

“Do you think it’s the same woman?” Amelia straightened her shoulders, trying not to fidget. The fate of her reputation might lie with a woman who didn’t even remember her.

“I think the name is a bit too much of a coincidence for it not to be.” Taking her arm, Nathan gently urged her toward the door.

Out of nowhere, two shrieking little boys appeared, pelting down the dirt road toward the cottage.

Nathan pulled her back as the imps chased one another around the yard.

The door to the cottage opened, and a woman in her late twenties stepped out the door. “Johnny! Willie! Stop that caterwaulin’ or Willie goes back to his Da’s.”

The two lads slid to a halt right in front of them. The larger of the two boys, the one with dark hair, turned, and Amelia gasped.

“Yes, Mam,” he called to the woman. “C’mon, Willie. I’ll race ya to the big oak tree.”

“Ah, you’ll not beat me again.” The two took off back up the lane.

“What is it, Amelia? You’re trembling.” Nathan took her arm once more.

It couldn’t be, and yet, somehow, it was. She shook her head, still unwilling to believe what she’d seen then turned to gaze at the woman standing in the doorway. “That’s her. That’s Mary Adams.”

The woman, who’d put a hand up to shield her eyes from the late morning sun, apparently recognized Amelia as well, for she clapped her hands over her mouth, spun around, and disappeared into the cottage.

“Come on.” Amelia stalked to the door, raised her hand to knock, then dropped it to the latch and stepped inside, Nathan right behind her.

Mary Carr stood in front of the fireplace, her hand over her face, shoulders shaking.

“Hello, Mary.”

Straightening and wiping her eyes, Mary came toward her. “Hello, Miss Burrowes.”

“This is my betrothed, Lord Ainsley.”

The woman’s eyes rounded, and she curtsied quickly. “Beg pardon, miss. M’lord.”

“Do you know why we’ve come, Mary?”

Slowly, the woman shook her head. She looked near tears again.

“I need the correspondence you kept between me and Lord Carrington. The letters, Mary. Do you still have them?” Fighting the urge to shake the woman, Amelia held her breath.

“Some. I still have some of ‘em.” She glanced toward a small desk in the corner.

“Thank God.” In his enthusiasm, Nathan spoke a little loudly, causing Mary to jump.

Amelia sighed in relief. “May I see them, please?”

“What for?”