To Love and Protect: The Reluctant Lords, #3

1

L ady Clarissa, I am so glad you could join us, Lady Chester cooed as she greeted Clarissa Blackerby.

Thank you for inviting me, Lady Chester, Clarissa nodded with a polite smile, wishing she were home instead. He had been gone for very close to a month and no word had yet arrived letting her know that Papa had arrived safely in Liverpool. She now lived in a constant state of anxiety.

The other ladies are in the orangery, if you would care to join them?

Of course.

Clarissa knew the ladies of the ton considered it a social coup to get her to attend any event, and that Lady Chester would be crowing quite some time about it to anyone that would listen. The thought of spending the afternoon with her step-mother and the slimy Franklin had been the determining factor of leaving the house today. Part of her wanted to call her step-mother ‘mummy’ in a taunting manner, but she couldn’t bring herself to let the words escape her mouth. Franklin, her step-mother’s brother, made her skin crawl. He constantly cornered her, attempting to cause them to be caught in compromising positions. Thank goodness most of the staff were originally hired by her father and loyal to her, willing to put their jobs on the line to protect her. She could not hide the shiver that ran up her spine when thinking of him.

Cold, Lady Clarissa? one of the other misses asked her snobbishly.

Just caught a slight breeze. How is everyone today? she politely asked the group before going around and greeting each person individually. Contrary to popular thought, Clarissa much preferred staying at home and events such as this were one of the many reasons why. They came together as a group to do something good, but instead, the meetings turned into social events. The young misses of the group watched her as if to find a weakness to exploit in hopes of turning the interest of the men away from her and to themselves. Their mamas did the same thing, just with less subterfuge and more directness. The funniest thing about the entire situation was Clarissa could not care less about finding a husband.

Before Lorraine, her step-mother, had come along, she just wanted to retire to the country and take care of her father. She pondered that thought a moment. Did her declaration of her intentions push her father into that woman’s arms? Clarissa worried her bottom lip at the thought and her stomach churned slightly. She did not know what she would do if she were to blame for having that woman and man in their house. Wanting to stamp her foot in agitation, a voice at her elbow brought her out of her recriminations.

Lady Clarissa, did you hear my question? a rotund matron asked sharply.

I’m sorry, my lady, my mind was somewhere else. What were you saying?

What is your idea for the annual fundraiser?

Oh, well, she thought for a moment looking at the group of women and attempting to ascertain what group they were actually meeting for. So many of them were on the same boards of charitable organizations that it made it difficult to recall which meeting she currently attended. She looked around the group and saw the quiet widow, Lady Oliver, sitting under a tree and knew immediately what group they supported. She and Lady Oliver were on only one board together—The London Orphanage Committee.

Yes? the woman prompted once more.

Well, I thought a fair would be nice, she looked at Lady Oliver for assistance. Lady Oliver, wouldn’t your own children enjoy attending a fair?

Oh, indeed they would, she replied, looking surprised that Clarissa would call on her for support.

I don’t know, the other woman huffed just as Lady Chester entered the orangery with one more lady in tow.

You don’t know what, Hester?

Having a fair for the fundraiser.

A fair? Like a country fair?

Exactly, the lady snipped. See, it just seems so, well, countrified. I mean, really, who would want to attend a fair in the city. We all have attended fairs before. Tell me Lady Clarissa, who would enjoy themselves at a fair in the city?

The orphans and their caretakers, Clarissa replied calmly, her smooth tone hiding the anger she felt rising within. She found herself counting to reign in her temper and hoped her cheeks were not flushed, betraying her true thoughts of the lady in front of her. All in the room fell silent. Almost an entire minute passed when Lady Oliver spoke up in Clarissa’s defense.

I think it’s a wonderful idea. The children would enjoy it so.

Indeed, Lady Chester added. Perhaps we can receive permission to have it held in Hyde Park and end the night with fireworks.

The circle of women began chattering once more, and the awkward moment passed. The snippy woman and her daughter glared at Clarissa as if they wished her gone forever. Finally, someone called to the woman forcing her to terminate her eye contact with Clarissa. Refusing to show any physical sign of relief that the woman had moved on, Clarissa felt herself wilting inside with it. She hated confrontation and avoided it whenever possible.

The mother and daughter had their sites on the Duke of Hawkescliffe, and he had been courting Clarissa for much of the Little Season. Recently, the duke had wed his best friend’s sister, a young woman with no title, in a very quiet ceremony. Clarissa felt both relief and happiness for the couple. She had become friends with Mikala, Hawkescliffe’s new wife, and felt the woman had tried to hide her feelings for Hawkescliffe. Perhaps now the two might discover their true feelings for each other. Clarissa had only gone around with him because of the power he wielded and she felt he could protect her from her lecherous step-uncle when in public.

She felt a hand at her shoulder and looked to her side to see Lady Oliver standing next to her. Don’t let her get to you, Lady Clarissa. She is a bitter woman who enjoys trying to make other people’s lives miserable as well.

At least I won’t lose any sleep over her tonight, thank you, Lady Oliver.

Please, call me Henriette.

Then you must call me Clarissa. Why don’t we retire to the bench you just left, and you can tell me all about your two precious children. The woman’s face lit up as she talked about her children. She had Clarissa chuckling over their antics in no time at all.

The meeting ended without any more arguments, and Clarissa’s coach came to pick her up.

John Coachman, please take me to Hyde Park. I would like to go for a stroll before retiring for the evening.

My lady, is that wise? It is getting rather late and there is frost in the air.

Please, she pleaded to the old man who had been more friend than employee many times.

All right, miss, he reluctantly agreed slipping into a more familiar address. He shut the door and the carriage swayed as he took his spot on top. They drove through the city before arriving at the nearly deserted Hyde Park. The coach came to a stop, and the old man opened the door. Are you sure, miss?

Absolutely. Who could miss walking on an afternoon like this? The sky is positively clear. How often does that feat occur in London, especially on a winter’s day?

I’ll be following behind you, he said.

No, you stay with the horses and carriage. I’ll be fine. I just want to take a stroll.

I don’t have a good feeling about this.

Everything will be fine. Wait here. Clarissa took off at a brisk pace toward the flower gardens. The groundskeepers for the park made certain that there were several types of flowers that bloomed every season. The trees had only just lost their leaves due to a rather warm Autumn and there were still a few flowers brave enough to peek their colorful petals out for all to see.

She found a bench and sat down to think and be by herself. She used to be able to do this in her gardens at home, but now feared Franklin too much. Since Papa had been gone, she often took her meal in her rooms, never leaving her door unlocked for any reason. Sometimes she would spend the evening with Aunt Gertie, but she did not dare do it too often for fear of worrying the dear woman.

How she wished for the peace of the country once more. She also wished her father had never met that woman. Woman! Hah! She acted and dressed more like a harlot than a lady of the ton. The thought of that woman pretending to be her mother and act so much wiser was laughable. Lost in her thoughts, Clarissa failed to hear the footsteps that fell behind her. A gloved hand covered her mouth and a beefy arm pinned both of hers to her side. She struggled to break free, but could barely move at all.

Hold still and it will go much easier for you, the coarse voice teased. You really are lovely, my dear, dry lips caressed her ear, he said you were. She stiffened and shivered, attempting to pull away from the man. Her mind raced. Who was it? What did they want? Where was John Coachman? Could he even see her from the carriage? Why had she refused his company?

Now, we are going to leave here quietly. Do you understand? She nodded her head slowly. She knew she had to get away now, otherwise who knew what would happen to her? Clarissa held out her reticule as if a peace offering to the beast behind her. Nice touch, lovey, but I have other plans for you before I deliver you. Yes, indeed. Something sweeter than whatever is in that fine li’l bag of yours.

Clarissa’s eyes widened in fear at the meaning behind his words. Innocent she may be, but she heard the change in his voice, felt the change in a certain part of his anatomy behind her. No! She cried silently. He stood her up and dragged her to the side of the bench. Not knowing what else to do she slammed her foot down on his and kicked his knee. He loosened his hand enough that she screamed for help.

You little bitch! he roared.

Clarissa turned and ran up the path towards the carriage. Too much land lay between her and safety. She saw John approaching them and recognized the worry on his face.

Duck! She heard him yell and she instinctively dove into a hedge before she heard the pop of a gun. Prickly branches scratched her face, chest, and arms. Another crash followed by an oath sounded only a few feet behind her. She scrambled out of the bushes, gaining her footing and ran for the coach. Her dress caught in underbrush ripping loudly and slowing her escape. The gloved hand felt like a manacle as it closed around her ankle.

He pulled her down, but she fought and clawed, trying to pull herself away from the thug. Her fingers left trenches in the damp London soil. Help me! she cried at the top of her lungs.

Shut up, he whispered as he tried to drag her close.

Help! Please! The sound of pounding footsteps came closer and closer. Clarissa felt her energy running out as she fought the large man. Help! Even her voice sounded weaker, fainter.

Hell, this ain’t worth it. I don’t care what the bloke said. All of a sudden her foot came free, she attempted to scramble free, but huge, strong hands lifted her. But you’re my way out of here. The man carried her to the far entrance of the park, while she continued to pummel and kick him. She heard people chasing after them. They were close enough to the entrance that the man could get away easily. Another time, m’lady, the man turned her head and roughly kissed her mouth bringing blood. That’s a lil’ somethin’ to remember me’s by, then he flung her towards a copse of trees. Disoriented and unable to catch her balance, she slammed into a huge old tree headfirst. She felt the bark scrape down her cheek, tearing her flesh. Clarissa saw beautiful stars light the blue sky before all went dark.

She awakened in the carriage, her head pounding and her body torn and bruised. She knocked on the wall of the coach to get John Coachman’s attention. The carriage lurched to a stop and she felt the sway of someone getting down. She squinted against the last light of day as John opened the carriage door.

Miss, I should have gone with you. I’ll ne’er forgive myself.

John, I’ll be fine, she croaked out as she pulled herself up in the seat. Where are we going?

I’m taking you home.

No. Take me to Aunt Gertie’s, please.

But...

No, John. Please, do this for me.

Yes, miss. She watched as John closed the door and felt the sway of the carriage as he once more got the horses moving. Clarissa remained stoic and composed during the entire ride to her aunt’s house. Despite the pounding in her head, she made certain that she had replayed the incident enough in her mind that she could recall the details exactly. The bumping and swaying of the coach in combination with her head made her nauseous, and she could not wait for the torturous ride to be over with. She knew John took his time in reverence to her, but on the cobbled streets of London, it would almost be better to speed to their destination and get it over with.

When they pulled up in front of the Gertie’s house, John jumped down and lifted her out of the carriage just as the housekeeper opened the door.

Oh, dear, she heard the old woman say before she yelled, Lady Heathrow, we need you immediately.

John, do I look that bad? Clarissa did not argue against him carrying her because her legs felt like a holiday pudding. When she heard Aunt Gertie say, Oh, my sweet baby, what happened to you? She knew she looked horrid. She felt the tears gather behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She did, however, let the older woman wrap her up in her arms for no other reason but to let her aunt feel better about the situation.

Justin Southerby, Viscount Southerby, sat in his father’s study and poured over the report he had to deliver in the next few days to the Director of the Foreign Office. This had only been his third assignment since volunteering to work in the office. His career had begun by coming across a group of Frenchmen attempting to enter Scotland near his grandfather’s land. Justin had quickly run to get clansmen to help capture the intruders. Ever since then, he felt it his duty, no, his calling, to help the government keep Napoleon out of Scotland and England alike.

Before that time, he had done what most younger sons of the ton did, played hard. Then his older brother had felt the need to fight against Napoleon and had been one of the few British soldiers killed in the Invasion of Naples, leaving him to inherit. His father had shown him how to run the estates, but Justin found it a boring process. Not that he would neglect them upon inheriting the land, it just currently did not hold his interest. His visits to Scotland every summer always held some adventure and he enjoyed escaping the hustle and bustle of London for a while.

His mother had been on him to begin looking for a wife this season. He thought he had found one in Mikala Simmons. She was fiery and independent, just what his grandfather and grandmother would approve of. Circumstances beyond anyone’s control, however, found her married to the Duke of Hawkescliffe. A pounding on the front door interrupted his thoughts, and soon the butler appeared at the open study door.

You have a message, my lord. Justin took the message that his parent’s butler, Dickson, carried on a silver salver.

Thank you, Justin said on a sigh. He had tried to tell Dickson they had no need to stand on formality, but the man refused to change his ways. Justin took the note, and the man turned stiffly and walked out the door. He ripped open the seal, not paying attention to the mark in the wax, and quickly read the note.

Dearest Justin,

I need your assistance. Please, come at once.

Love,

Gertie

Uhhh, what has she gone and done now? Justin asked the empty room, letting his head fall backwards against the high back of the chair. Deciding to get the crisis over with, he locked his report in the safe hidden in the bookshelf and called for his horse. Justin left his parent’s townhouse, which was located in an older but respectable area of Mayfair and made his way to Grosvenor Square to his godmother’s house. He never knew what to expect when visiting his mother’s best friend, which is why he tried to keep the visits to a minimum.

He traveled quickly since most of town had been deserted for country estates for the holiday season. His stomach growled irritatingly as he realized he had worked through lunch. He had become too accustomed to eating meals at a set time. When in Scotland, you could only count on the evening meal being served at a set time. He had missed seeing his grandfather, grandmother, and all the clansmen this year. Justin idly wondered how Liam had spent the last year, and then just as quickly reminded himself they were no longer friends.

His thoughts had wandered, and before he realized it, he had reached Grosvenor Square. He nodded to several passersby as he traveled to the far side of the square and his godmother’s massive house. Justin dismounted from his horse, took a deep breath and started up the stairs. A crisp-looking butler abruptly opened the door.

My lord, my lady is awaiting you in the pink salon. Justin stifled his groan as he followed the man. The butler opened the door and the pink attacked Justin from every side. The pink salon had every shade of pink known to man. The tasteful cream-colored walls were the only saving grace of the room. He searched the room and found his godmother on a settee in front of a cheerfully lit fireplace, her pepper-gray hair peeking above the back. Beside her sat a female with blonde hair falling down her back in a haphazard manner.

Please don’t let her be trying her hand at matchmaking, Justin prayed silently. Good evening, Gertie, he greeted cheerfully, belying his hesitation.

Justin, this is not a social call, unfortunately, his godmother said in a brisk manner he had never heard before. Concerned, he quickly rounded the sofa. Lady Clarissa Blackerby sat next to his godmother. Her hands were clenched tightly together in her lap. Scratches covered her hands, upper chest, and face. Her clothing looked tattered and torn. Dirt, twigs, and leaves covered her and were tangled in her hair.

What’s going on? Gertie’s green eyes sparkled with tears. Justin’s stomach plummeted as he realized that something was indeed seriously wrong. His godmother might do many things, but she never cried. He looked over at Lady Blackerby and saw that she still had not looked away from her hands lying in her lap. Justin did not want to bring up Clarissa’s injuries just yet, so instead he knelt on one knee in front of his mother’s best friend and placed a hand on her knee. Gertie, what’s the matter?

William is missing.

Who?

My brother, Clarissa’s father.

Oh, yes. Are you certain he’s missing? Gertie nodded in the affirmative. How do you know?

I think he’s been kidnapped, actually, Clarissa spoke up, her voice husky but firm. She finally looked up. Justin quickly hid his reaction to the cuts and bruising on her face.

Kidnapped?

He left on business, but never reached his destination, she answered.

Perhaps you should start from the beginning.

There are so many beginnings, I hardly know where to start, Clarissa gave a sardonic chuckle. Gertrude gave her a squeeze before she continued, Yes, father did leave the city on business.

He waited, but she only stared at her hands, not making eye contact and not answering him. Lady Blackerby, if Gertie trusted me enough to bring me here, you can trust me enough to tell me your story.

Fine. Something happened on the way to Liverpool. A courier arrived at the house on Friday from the man he was supposed to have met. The note indicated that Papa never appeared for the scheduled meeting.

Perhaps the carriage broke a wheel or something and he was merely delayed, Justin suggested as he stood and straightened out his stiff legs. He walked over and pulled a chair closer to the divan.

He traveled by horseback, Clarissa countered. I kept waiting for a note to arrive from Papa saying not to worry, and all was well.

But it never arrived?

No. I even wrote to our housekeeper at the estate he would most likely hie off to if something did happen, and they have not seen him either. I prayed all during the vicar’s sermon that if Papa was all right I would make nice with Lorraine, but I have yet to hear a word from him. In a way that is a mixed blessing, she chuckled.

Lorraine?

My father’s new wife, or my evil step-mother. Whichever you prefer to call her.

I see. Yes, I believe we have met.

You’re a handsome man, of course you have met her, she scoffed.

Lady Clarissa, he continued on, ignoring her mutterings, it’s been a month, why have you waited so long?

I knew everyone would think he had only been delayed for some reason if I didn’t. I also kept hoping that we would receive a note from him, relieving me of my worries.

Does Her Grace know?

No, and I don’t want her to.

Why not?

I don’t trust her or her brother. She moved him in to our home shortly after she and father married, and they have been trouble ever since.

What is her brother’s name?

Franklin Montmorency.

Justin leaned back in the chair and stared at the far wall, attempting to avoid looking at anything pink. He looked back at Clarissa and asked, Why are you so determined that he’s been kidnapped?

Before today I wasn’t certain.

What made today different?

Someone attacked me in Hyde Park and very nearly kidnapped me, she said gesturing to her current appearance.

What? Justin asked incredulously.

Are you hard of hearing, or do I truly need to repeat myself? When he made a motion with his hand to the negative, she continued. To make a long story short a man accosted me. I did not recognize anything about the man. From things he said it makes me believe someone hired him to do the job.

How did you get away?

It doesn’t really matter. No one is dead, more’s the pity, and I will heal.

What is it you want me to do?

Assist me in finding my father.

I’ll see what I can do.

I don’t believe you heard her correctly, Justin.

What?

"She wants you, Gertie paused and pointed at Justin before continuing, to assist her. She doesn’t want to wait while you go it alone and send back reports."

You can’t be serious. He had never thought of Lady Clarissa Blackerby, daughter of the Duke of Hamilton as being one who took an active involvement in anything except charities and parties. In fact, she looked as if she might fall apart at any moment.

Why not? Clarissa asked. She stared him in the eye, a look of sheer determination on her bruised and battered features.

Well, look at you, he waved at her.

What is that supposed to mean?

You’re a woman, dammit! You belong here, not out there.

You think I’m too delicate. Is that it, Lord Southerby?

Yes!

Aunt Gertie, if you don’t mind, I will rest here tonight, and then I will leave at first light, Clarissa said.

Of course, my dear, Gertrude replied. All the while, Justin paced back and forth muttering under his breath. What will you need?

Enough! You win. You, Justin pointed at Clarissa, are going to stay put. And as for you, he turned to Gertrude.

Yes? his mother’s best friend asked innocently.

Dammit, he muttered. Lady Blackerby, do you have any pertinent information you can share with me? I need to look into as much as possible here before we leave.

I have his schedule and the route he wanted to take. There were several stops he planned to make along the way, both going and coming. I also found all of his personal papers just in case something were to happen.

Clarissa, we are dealing with the unknown here. Other than a report that indicates your father never made his meeting, what other evidence do you have?

None.

Then why do you want to come with me?

"Lord Southerby, either my father has been kidnapped or murdered. I think I have a right to be there when we find out which it is. My step-mother believes I have been moping over Lord Hawkescliffe’s defection, and I want it to stay that way. She is a woman I dare not trust, and I would not put it past her to be involved in Papa’s disappearance. If you will not help me, I will find him myself."

Justin sat back in the chair looking at Clarissa. He had not expected this at all. Clarissa appeared vulnerable to the world. She was petite in stature but evidently large in her courage. He stood from the chair and looked at the two women on the divan. Justin could not think with these two looking at him the way they were, one with determination and the other with hope.

I will not beg you, Lord Southerby. I promise to be a valuable asset and not get in your way. However, if you choose not to help me, I will set out on my own.

See that you get some salve on those cuts. I must leave for a while. I need the name of your father’s solicitor and secretary in town. Give me until the day after tomorrow before you do anything drastic. I will be back with my answer.

Clarissa looked as if she would argue with him, but instead inclined her head sharply giving him the information he requested and went back to looking at her hands clutched together.

Justin left Gertie’s house on a mission to find answers. He rode to the area of town where most solicitors kept their offices, reading the shingles hanging outside of the buildings looking for the name Cummings. After passing a dozen offices he finally saw the shingle two storefronts down. It swayed in the breeze, its creaking sound filling the air. Justin rode up to the building and tied his horse to the post out front. A bell clanged above a balding man’s head as he pulled the door closed behind him. The man checked his pockets as if he had misplaced something.

I need to speak to Mr. Cummings about a rather urgent matter.

Come back in the morning, the man said absently still patting his pockets. The wife is expecting me. Where is that bloody key? The man asked no one in particular.

This key? Justin asked innocently. He bent over and retrieved a brass key that had fallen between two cobbles.

Yes, sir, the little man said excitedly, reaching for the key. Justin held it just out of his reach.

As I said, I need to speak with Mr. Cummings. A look of irritation crossed the man’s face. I won’t take much of your time, Mr. Cummings, then you can be on your way.

Oh, very well. You will save me from having to entertain my wife’s brother for that much longer. Who did you say you are?

I don’t believe I did. I am representing the Duke of Hamilton’s daughter, Lady Clarissa Blackerby.

Come this way. Justin followed the man through the door and into an office with books and papers stacked everywhere. The man took a seat behind his desk before indicating that Justin should take the chair across from him. Justin sat after moving a stack of papers from the indicated chair. What can I do for you? Cummings asked.

I am here on a discreet matter. It is believed that the Duke of Hamilton might be missing. I’m trying to retrace his steps. Did he visit you within the last few weeks?

Hamilton’s missing?

That is what his daughter believes.

Perhaps she just has an active imagination.

Perhaps, but I promised to look into the matter. So, have you seen him recently?

He did come in sometime during the last fortnight and establish a new will.

I see. Why did he write a new will? Was he in poor health? Did he seem worried about his life perhaps?

No to both questions. The will is a bit strange, but I think it has more to do with that new wife of his. I’m sorry but I cannot divulge the full details of the will.

I understand, Justin said calmly. All of a sudden the bell rang over the front door heralding another visitor.

Pardon me, I will be back directly, the man jumped up, more spry than what he appeared. The barrister muttered under his breath about locking doors and leaving earlier as he exited the room.

Certainly, Justin said. As soon as the man cleared the door Justin jumped up and began searching the tops of the stacks on the solicitor’s desk. Halfway down the third stack he searched, he found a document with the duke’s name on it. He scanned the will, shocked at what the old man had done. When he heard steps coming back to the office, he quickly shoved the document back into its proper stack.

Sorry ‘bout that, Cummings mumbled.

Not to worry, Justin stood waving the man off. And you are certain you have not received any word from His Grace since your last visit.

Positive

I have one last question, Mr. Cummings.

Yes?

Let us say that someone adds a stipulation to a will. If that stipulation is not carried out, what usually happens to the inheritance?

Well, that depends. It can either revert back to the main benefactor of the will or go to the estate.

I see. Well, thank you for your time and have a nice evening. Justin left the solicitor’s office and made his way to the ducal mansion. He rode up just as a man walked out the front door. Pardon me, I’m looking for the Duke of Hamilton’s secretary.

That would be me, Mr. Foote.

Mr. Foote, I am Lord Southerby, and I have some business with the duke on behalf of the Foreign Office. I wonder if I could set up an appointment to speak with him.

I’m sorry, he’s out of town at the moment, the man replied in a nasally voice. His beady, brown eyes took Justin’s measure.

Do you have an itinerary for him? My director insists that I speak to him as soon as possible.

Come with me, the man said huffily. He turned to reveal a shiny, circular bald spot on the crown of his head as he led Justin into the Duke’s study. Mr. Foote shuffled some papers around on the top of the desk before he found the one he looked for. He quickly scribbled the information onto a new sheet of paper and then handed it over to Justin. Here you go, my lord. Will there be anything else?

He was going to stick strictly by this schedule?

Indeed. He wants to be back for the upcoming holidays.

I see. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Foote. Your help has been invaluable. He left the Hamilton’s residence and retired to his house for the evening to mull over the information he had found.

Justin rose early the next morning and rode to Hyde Park to think and put Galahad through his paces. He promised Clarissa he would give her his answer this morning. Justin led his horse to Rotten Row and gave him his head. Few people were out, but he gave passing nods to those that were.

He could feel Galahad’s muscles bunch beneath his legs. The wind rushing past him helped to clear his thoughts. This was the best part of London, he decided, and the closest to being home. They made several passes until Galahad became winded, and Justin slowed him to a walk to allow him to cool down. Based on how the will read, things did not look good for Clarissa or her father. Perhaps he should talk to the duchess and her brother. Maybe Clarissa had just been overreacting. She could just be jealous after so many years of being the sole woman in her father’s life.

A half hour later he had made his decision. He turned Galahad toward Gertie’s house. He hoped he could ease Clarissa’s worries; however, she would not be going with him. She had no reason to expose herself to more injury. He would simply follow her father’s route, find him, and return him to her hale and hearty. Besides, she looked too delicate to endure that kind of travel. He did not need to deal with a fragile woman while looking for a lost old man as well. He would be firm when he told her, and she would just have to respect that fact.

Most importantly, what would she do if they did not find out good news? It would be much easier to tell her with Gertie’s support than it would be for her to find out from him alone. He did not do well dealing with female histrionics. He turned Galahad and rode