fifteen minutes he was striding up the front steps to his town house in the gathering dusk. An odd presentiment caused a prickle at the back of his neck as he entered the front door. Unease rippled through his gut. The house felt empty.
One thing he’d learned over the years was to trust his instincts. It was how he’d discovered the truth of what he was.
‘Where is Lady Rosabella?’ he asked the butler, handing over his hat.
‘I haven’t seen her since Lady Stanford’s departure.’
Damn. She was either still sitting on the floor crying or…
Or she’d done what they all did eventually.
He tore up the stairs and burst through the bedroom door. The dressing-room door lay open, the items from the theatrical chest scattered around it. Of Rosabella there was no sign.
Where the hell could she have gone?
Back to the theatrical troupe? He picked up the discarded breeches she’d worn on stage. Surely she would have taken them with her? He let them fall. Her grandfather? After all she’d done to avoid the old gentleman it hardly seemed likely. Perhaps she’d simply gone for a walk to clear her head. In that case the butler would know, because she would have taken her maid or a footman. Although she might have slipped out alone. She’d done enough of that in Sussex. The thought of her walking the streets of London alone chilled him to the bone. She wouldn’t take such a risk.
Doubt tightened his gut, his heart dipped. Rosabella would dare anything.
Think. Where could she go?
Of all the choices, the opera company seemed most likely. She had friends there. He strode into the bedroom, dropping the velvet pouch on the bed, and rang for his valet. He grabbed his riding boots and started pulling them on.
His valet walked in and rushed over to help. ‘Leave it,’ Garth growled. ‘Have a message sent to the stables. I want my phaeton outside the front door in a half-hour. And have Cook put up some bread and cheese. I’ll eat it in the study while I write some letters requiring delivery. Also pack me an overnight valise.’
He stamped his foot into the second boot and stood up. ‘Clear?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ The valet shot off to do his bidding.
Garth ran downstairs and set to work on a letter to Mark, asking for yet another favour, dammit.
A scratch at the door announced the arrival of his supper. He continued writing. ‘Put the tray on the table. I’ll help myself.’
Metal clicked on wood. The servant didn’t leave.
A reprimand ready on his tongue, Garth raised his head. ‘You.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I might have guessed.’
Mark sat down and crossed one leg over the other, his face sombre. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t.’
‘This document is valid, you say?’ Garth rubbed the back of his neck. Rolled his shoulders. Tried to get his mind around this new development.
‘As far as I can tell. I will get a lawyer to have a look. If it is, she is independently wealthy and is quite adamant that she no longer needs to marry you and will pay back every penny you spent on her behalf.’
‘I need to talk to her.’
Mark shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. She is also adamant about not seeing you.’
The words were a knife between his ribs. ‘She could be carrying my child.’
‘You damned fool. Don’t you know better than to seduce an earl’s granddaughter?’
‘Devil take you, Mark. She lied. About everything. Hell.’ He got up and paced the floor. ‘Not one scrap of truth has she told me. First she was a widow. Then I discover she’s an innocent. Then she’s searching for a portrait. Like an idiot, I help her. Next she runs off to be an opera singer like her mother, but her mother, it turns out, was married to a nobleman.’ He swung around and glared at his friend quietly nursing a brandy. ‘Everything was a complete fabrication from beginning to end. And still I’ve offered marriage.’
‘Noble of you.’
‘I had no intention of ever getting married.’
‘Did you tell her that?’
‘More or less. I wasn’t going to lie to her. She wouldn’t believe it if I did.’
‘What did you do to make her run off?’
The note of accusation in Mark’s voice brought his simmering temper to a boil. ‘What did you do to make Penelope run off the moment you stepped out of the house?’
Mark glared at him, then his shoulders slumped. He stared morosely into the fire. ‘She didn’t want me to go north