Alexander waited silently, hearing Margaret creep closer.
“I was in Salisbury today,” Carlisle continued, closing the door behind him. “And against my better judgement, against your council, I visited the Countess of Salisbury at her home in Laverstock.”
“The countess?” Alexander asked, outraged. She was Bastian’s mother, long estranged from Bastian’s father. “I forbade you from interfering. We agreed to say nothing to his relations until we had located Bastian ourselves.”
“Which we failed to do.” Carlisle shook his head, adamant. “I will not apologize for my action, especially not once I tell you what I have learned.”
“Which is?” Margaret asked, glancing at her husband.
“The countess, while reluctant at first to speak with me, ultimately revealed that her son and Miss Bell had called upon her one week ago.”
“Mere days after they left here,” Margaret said in shock.
“And after their call?” Alexander asked.
“She does not know. Mr. Hawthorne mentioned marriage to Miss Bell. The countess was furious, knowing nothing of the woman. Bastian seemed uncertain in the face of her cold reception of the idea. They left again without warning, as is becoming their habit. Who can say to where? Though the countess has an idea...”
Alexander glanced at Margaret.
“To Gretna Greene,” Carlisle said.
Where dejected lovers went to marry.
CHAPTER 23
“Ashame about that rain,” Augusta said, trailing beside Margaret. “And you’re quite certain you don’t want to change out of your wet clothes, Your Grace?”
“It was barely a drizzle. Good for the senses,” Margaret replied. “I’ll change for dinner within the hour—assuming the duke will be dining tonight, that is.”
Augusta gave a nervous smile. Since the news about Isadore and Bastian, Margaret had barely seen her husband, who had retreated into himself, ensconced in his study to work, he said, but primarily Margaret thought, tobrood.
The corridor was quiet except for the soft fall of Margaret and Augusta’s slippers on the carpet runner. The afternoon had brought on a fine mist, and their walk had ended sooner than Margaret intended. Her thoughts—restless things as of late—had been tamed for the moment, and the leftover aches in her body were subsiding with exercise, at Doctor Burnside’s recommendation.
As they passed the schoolroom door, a familiar voice made Margaret pause. She held up a hand to Augusta, who stopped at once, and leaned just enough to peer into the room.
Eliza sat at a small table beside her governess, Miss Winters, who had been called up from London after Eliza had settled in Wiltshire. Her sister’s blonde head was bent over her copybook in an unusual display of concentration. More surprising was the sight of Alexander standing over her shoulder.
“Miss Eliza, you have left out your capital,” he said gently, tapping the page with a finger. “Begin again, and do not press so hard with the pen. You will exhaust yourself and your ink before the lesson is done.”
“I did not mean to forget,” Eliza said with a pout, her small hand tightening on the quill.
He gave a low chuckle. “That I do not doubt. Still, it must be corrected.”
Miss Winters gave him a sidelong glance—admiring him when she thought he couldn’t see. “Your Grace is most gracious to assist.”
“On the contrary,” Alexander replied, “I find Miss Eliza’s instruction to be of great personal interest.”
Margaret’s breath caught at the words. His affection was genuine, striking something tender in her. Eliza beamed up atAlexander, obviously charmed by his praise. Before Margaret could consider interrupting, Alexander turned and noticed her standing in the doorway. Their eyes met quickly before a sweet but private smile played on his mouth. He stepped back from Eliza’s chair and inclined his head, inviting her into the room.
“Forgive me,” Margaret said. Eliza looked at her immediately, quill hovering in midair. “I had not intended to interrupt what seems to be a very productive lesson.”
“You are not the least bit interrupting, Your Grace,” Miss Winters said, rising at once. She smoothed her gray dress, then gestured for Eliza to rise too. “Miss Eliza had just completed her composition when His Grace arrived. We decided to go over a few lines to show him how far you have come—didn’t we, Miss Eliza? And now I believe tea and cake would be a suitable reward.”
“Please, will you come with us?” Eliza asked, already halfway to Margaret in a blur of yellow cotton. She turned toward Alexander. “And His Grace too?”
“His Grace, I’m sure, has a long list of duties to attend before the day is done,” Margaret said with a smile. “But I will join you shortly, Liz. Now, remember to thank His Grace for his assistance. Composition is no good if you have no manners...”
Somewhere, Margaret was sure Helena just shivered.
