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The inn was starting to fill with people arriving for dinner and evening drinks. To his relief, Baldwin was in the thick of it, drinking with some locals at the bar. The man had been slightly in his cups for the entire day and was well on his way to being falling down drunk by nightfall. This was the perfect opportunity to slip away and try to talk to Delia again while the man was distracted.
He ascended the stairs, walking down the hallway to her room. He glanced left and right—the coast was clear. There was no one about to eavesdrop. His heart pounded hard as he knocked on her door.
“Delia?” he called in a low voice. “Please. I need to speak with you. It is a matter of urgency.”
There was no response from within the room.
“I am sorry,” he whispered, his heart pounding harder. “My behaviour towards you last night was appalling.” He hesitated. “But it is more than that. I need to speak with you about Lady Cordelia Pelham.”
He waited, his heart in his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to spring it on her like this that he knew her true identity. But she was giving him no choice.
The effect was immediate. The door opened. Her face was white with shock. In that moment, he knew that it was indeed true. She wouldn’t be reacting this way if it wasn’t.
“You must come with me,” he whispered, taking her hand. “I must talk with you. It cannot be in the main room of the inn. I will explain more when we find a private place.”
She nodded, not saying a word. He took her arm, guiding her out the back of the inn towards the stables. It was the only place he could think where they might talk with a modicum of privacy, away from prying eyes, especially those of Jack Baldwin.
He was fairly confident that the man was stuck like glue to the bar and wouldn’t be moving away from it any time soon. And he hadn’t wanted to go into her room again—Sister Mary Majella was keeping an eagle eye upon her and might knock to see if she needed anything, hearing both their voices within.
He exhaled in relief. There was no one in the stables except the horses. They entered one that was empty. She turned to him. Her face was still as white as the snow swirling around them.
“How do you know anything about Lady Cordelia Pelham?” she whispered, her voice tremulous.
He sighed. “There was a late arrival here last night,” he said in a low voice. “A carriage made it through from the south.” He hesitated. “It is a business acquaintance from Bradford. His name is Jack Baldwin, and he told me the story of a missing lady.”
Delia gasped. Her large grey eyes widened, looking like they were about to swallow up her face entirely. She staggered. He reached out a hand to aid her.
“There is a substantial reward for the lady’s safe return to her family,” he continued, his heart aching to see her distress. “Apparently, the lady’s betrothed has posted the reward on behalf of her father, who is financially strapped. They are searching high and low for her. London is abuzz with the tale.”
Delia was shaking now. He waited for her to say something, but she was silent. He didn’t know if she couldn’t or simply wouldn’t speak.
“Delia,” he said in a gentle voice. “AreyouLady Cordelia Pelham?”
She bit her lip. Her eyes were swimming with tears. Mutely, she nodded her head.
His heart contracted. “I thought so,” he said. “It all made sense. I was suspicious that you were lying about who you were from the beginning and that suspicion has only grown stronger. It was the reason I was so curt with you last night.” He hesitated. “Things about you just didn’t add up. I knew that you weren’t the working-class woman you purported to be.”
“I am sorry,” she whispered, biting her lip harder. “But I needed to protect myself. I never intended to grow so close to you. I didn’t know how you would react if I told you.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “I didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do something with the information, such as writing to my father to tell him my whereabouts.”
His heart contracted again. “I am sorry, too. Sorry that you didn’t trust me with your story. I would never do something like that, Delia.” He exhaled slowly. “If you chose to run away from your life, then that is your decision entirely. I would never compel you into returning or go behind your back to sabotage you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking another deep breath.
He hesitated. “Why did you run away?”
A single tear trickled down her cheek. “My father was forcing me into a marriage I did not want,” she whispered. “He sold me to a much older gentleman to gain the funds he needed to bail himself out of ruin. He has a problem with gambling, you see, and is in debt. And he decided to save our ancestral home by selling me off cheap. He put that ahead of my happiness.”
Ambrose shook his head. Her pain was apparent in every word.
“You could not resolve yourself to the betrothal?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “I tried very hard. But the gentleman I was betrothed to is my father’s age, and we have nothing in common. I knew he was going to treat me like a possession, and only wanted me as a broodmare to gain the son and heir he never had.” She hesitated. “But besides all of that, I do not love him and never will. Nor does he love me. I was facing a life of misery.”
He sighed. She looked so devastated as she retold the story of her betrothal.
“Lord Stanton is not a bad man,” she continued, frowning slightly. “He is just not the man for me. And I want to make my own choice. I want to love my life partner. My father promised me that he would let me choose, and then he betrayed that promise. I felt like I had no choice but to flee and start my life anew, as someone else entirely.”
“That was very brave, Delia,” he said in a gentle voice. “Not many would sacrifice their privileged life for freedom.” He paused, looking at her intently. “Tell me about Minnie Reeves.”
