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“A general description,” replied Baldwin. “But without seeing a portrait of the lady, how is anyone to know if they encounter her? She is golden-haired, which many women are in this world.” He paused. “But I did hear she has grey eyes, which are rather more unusual, and would be a distinguishing feature.”
Ambrose’s heart hit the ground. For Delia’s grey eyes were one of her most remarkable features. They were so large and striking that it was hardnotto notice them.
His blood ran cold again. Baldwin would surely encounter Delia here—they were all stuck together, cooped up in this inn, like hens in a cage. And there was no way to disguise the colour of her eyes. Baldwin would surely notice them.
It was hard not to notice Delia on all counts. She was so beautiful men instinctively looked at her. Baldwin would be no different. Would the man grow suspicious of her when he saw those distinctive grey eyes and then heard her speak with her refined accent? And once he heard the name she was going by, which was so similar to her real name?
Of course, he will, thought Ambrose, barely able to breathe. He is not stupid. In fact, he is very canny. He will put two and two together and know who she is.
And the worst of it was he couldn’t even appeal to Baldwin’s decent side, because the man didn’t have one. He was a calculating opportunist without a conscience, as far as Ambrose could tell. Baldwin had the most appalling reputation in Bradford for treating his workers terribly. If he thought that Delia was this notable missing lady, then there was no knowing what he would do. They were offering a large reward for her safe return.
And Baldwin was in financial trouble himself. There had been rumours swirling for months about it. His factory was in danger of closing. In short, he was a man in a desperate position who might grasp at any straw that could save him.
Ambrose felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead. He knew that Delia wasn’t his responsibility. They had only known each other for a short time. He had made no promises to her. But still…could he sit back and watch if Baldwin dragged her back to a life she had clearly been desperate to run away from?
He took a deep, ragged breath. He couldn’t watch that happen. He would have to drag her back over his dead body.
He stood up so quickly that the blood rushed from his head. Baldwin looked at him curiously.
“I am going to order some breakfast,” said Ambrose. “Do you want to join me?”
The man shook his head. “I am quite fine with my whiskey, for now, Hartfield.”
Another man walked into the room, accompanied by a large black wolfhound. Baldwin clicked his fingers, and the animal bounded to him, settling at his feet near the fire. Ambrose stared at the animal. It looked menacing.
It growled at him. Ambrose took a step back.
Baldwin laughed. “Oh, do not be alarmed by Apollo,” he said, reaching down to caress the dog’s ears. “His bark is much worse than his bite.”
“If you say so,” said Ambrose.
He walked up to the bar to order his breakfast. He knew he would probably not be able to eat a bite of it, but he should try. He needed to sit down alone and gather his thoughts, which were spinning wildly. He needed to figure out how to manage this situation.
After he ordered, he sat down at a table where he could see the staircase. If Delia emerged, he would jump up and steer her out of the room immediately before Jack Baldwin saw her. He needed to talk to her urgently. The only reason he wasn’t pounding on her door this minute was he was sure she would slam it in his face.
It mightn’t be her, he thought, a bit desperately.Lady Cordelia Pelham and Delia Parker might not be one and the same person.
But he knew that he was deluding himself. Theywerethe same person. The puzzle of Delia had finally been solved, and she was exactly what she appeared to be: a fine lady who had no idea how to exist in the big, bad world but was trying her hardest to fit in. A runaway. A desperate lady who was trying to pass herself as a working-class woman and never could.
More pieces of the puzzle started to slot into place. Minnie Reeves must be her maid, the one she had sent in her place to the house of the fine lord she didn’t want to marry. They must have swapped places entirely. Had Minnie always been heading north, and they had seized the opportunity?
He took a deep breath. He needed the truth from her. And he wasn’t going to rest now until he got it, for her survival in her new life depended upon it.
Chapter 34
Ambrose had a tight knot of anxiety in his stomach as he watched the light darkening through the windows of the inn. Was it his imagination, or was the storm starting to abate? There seemed to be fewer snowflakes swirling through the air, and the wind wasn’t quite so fierce. He sighed.
Or perhaps it was just his imagination—he had been watching the storm through the windows all day as he played endless rounds of cards with Jack Baldwin. The day had dragged in a torturous way.
He surreptitiously glanced towards the staircase. He had been on tenterhooks the entire day, ready to jump up quickly to intercept Delia, but she had never descended from her room. Not once. Sister Mary Majella had told him that she was feeling poorly and was taking her meals in her room. But the way the nun had looked at him when she had informed him had him in no doubt that she was aware that perhaps the reason for Delia’s absence was not sickness.
He had tried knocking on her door after luncheon, but she had refused to answer or speak to him. His heart had been in his boots as he slunk away. He only had himself to blame for it. He had acted in such a contemptuous way towards her last evening. His anger had gotten the better of him, and he didn’t blame her in the least for refusing to talk to him.
The worst of it was he had no idea how to solve the problem. Apart from needing to apologise to her for his appalling behaviour, he had to inform her about the potential danger she was in from Jack Baldwin’s unexpected arrival.
And he had to know the truth about why she had fled her life.
He sighed heavily. But unless she let him speak to her, he couldn’t accomplish any of it.
