passed between them, he might not welcome her either. She had argued briefly for going to the stagecoach stop instead and had hit a surprising stubbornness in Ethan that first annoyed, then impressed her. She could see that he was right. Lucy was exhausted. She was exhausted. They had slept very little during the remainder of last night, and they needed rest before making the long journey back to London. But was Alec’s house the place for that? And what other choice had she? She had no money for an inn, or a stagecoach ticket, for that matter.
They turned from the lane onto a larger road, and the horse moved a bit faster. At least she no longer wore her ruined evening dress or looked as if she’d been dragged backward through a hedgerow. Lucy had been clever enough to pack her a fresh gown, and she and Ethan had carried their luggage along with them in the cart. The thought of showing up at Alec’s home the way she’d looked last night… well, it was unthinkable. She would have walked back to town rather than do that.
With a clatter of hooves and wheels, a post chaise rounded the curve ahead of them. Ethan pulled over as far as he could to let the grander equipage pass. It had nearly done so when a man’s voice called, “Stop!” Edward Danforth’s head showed at the carriage window, moving past them as the driver reined in his team.
“What are you doing here?” said Charlotte and Edward at the same moment.
“I came after you, damn it,” added Edward. “Unnecessarily, I see.”
They eyed each other. Edward’s hair stood up in tufts, and his finely tailored coat was crushed and wrinkled. He looked wildly irritated, and as if he had slept in the chaise. “Are you all right?” he said.
Charlotte nodded. There was either nothing to say, or too much.
“My… mother?”
“I left her at your house.”
“Did you?” Edward surveyed her warily. He started to speak, hesitated, then said, “I’ve been driving in circles around the damned countryside all night trying to get there. Up one lane, down another. Can’t go this way, there’s trouble; can’t go that way, there’s soldiers. Can’t see to drive, have to stop by the roadside until it’s light, for God’s sake. Maddening.”
“We all have our difficulties,” replied Charlotte drily.
“Ah… yes. I am sorry.” Edward looked away.
For his drunken advances? For not noticing his mother’s unbalanced state? Charlotte decided it didn’t matter. “You will have to do something about her…”
“I know!” The thought seemed to anger as much as oppress him. “I am on my way to do so.”
“There is more… involved than you know.” She couldn’t tell him everything she had discovered here on the public highway, even if she could order her thoughts clearly enough.
Edward looked wary, then defeated. “Is there? How… delightful. I suppose I shall have to hear every sordid detail.”
Charlotte simply nodded, holding his eyes in a long look.
“That bad, is it? Where are you going… Alec’s?” She nodded again. “Then I shall have the… I can’t say pleasure of seeing you there. But I will call.” His jaw hardened. He turned to the driver of the chaise. “Move on!”
The post chaise edged past them and speeded up. Ethan slapped the reins, and their own horse leaned into the traces. None of them spoke. Lady Isabella’s actions and fate were not matters they could comfortably discuss.
***
Morning found Alec frustrated, anxious, and forced to admit the futility of his search. He was tired out; more importantly, his horse was exhausted. He could not drive it any harder. Simply getting home would be as much as the animal could manage. And they would have to go slowly, at that. Once there, he could call out his entire staff to comb the countryside for Charlotte. He could alert his neighbors. God knows what he would tell them, but he’d think of something. She had to be found. His heart contracted again at thoughts of what might have happened to her. He would do what he had to do. There had been plenty of wild stories out of his house in his grandparents’ day, he thought with a grimace. He’d vowed there would never be more. But he saw no other choice.
***
The first person Ethan saw when he drove the cart into the stable yard of the Wylde estate was his father. He stood in the middle of the cobbled space, arms akimbo, tall and scowling. It needed only this,