Imitation of Love (11 page)

 “It was you who approached Jimmy,
wasn’t it?” Catherine asked, looking at Mrs. Somerson. She wanted to get as
much information as she could, in case she did manage to escape.

“He was one of my easier conquests,
unlike Mr. Oakley. Even when Oakley was in my arms, I never felt that I really
owned him.”

Catherine winced inwardly. She hated to
think of Xander being with the Somerson woman, perhaps kissing her as he’d
kissed Catherine in the garden the night before.

“I feel sure Oakley knows who the
Captain is,” said the maid. “Has he said anything to you, Miss Willoughby?” Her
voice was menacing.

“No.”

“You must know who he is.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I think you’re lying. He used to visit
your house. Are you telling me that you provided him with forged documents
without ever knowing who he was?”

“I didn’t provide him with anything. I
don’t know who he is. My brother never told me. The Captain was always in
disguise and I only saw him from a distance. All I know is that he has a common
accent.” She looked at Celine. “Like yours.”

“Don’t get impudent with me, Miss
Willoughby. I might be tempted to kill you immediately, since you’re clearly no
use to us now. But I think you are.”

Blood run through Catherine’s veins like
iced water. She had never been so alone. Not only might she not live to see
Alyssa marry, she was never going to see Xander again. And she wanted to see
him, more than anything, just long enough to tell him how she felt. He might
throw it back in her face, as he had the kiss, but at least he would know that
she died loving him.

***

Catherine would have been surprised by how
much Xander did notice. He also spent a restless night, his own mind in turmoil
about what had happened in the garden. He had behaved outrageously with an
innocent young girl, and what’s more to one that he loved beyond measure. He
vowed to put things right. He would beg her forgiveness and ask her to marry
him. She might refuse, and he could hardly blame her if she did, but he hoped
that once he’d told her the depth of his feelings, she might feel kinder
towards him. Not that he deserved her kindness. But if she let him, he would
spend a lifetime making it up to her.

He awoke early in the morning, full of
self-loathing, and it took him a moment or two to work out what had disturbed
him at such an hour. He realized he’d heard the front door close.

He got out of bed and went to the
window, which overlooked the square, and saw Catherine at the end of the road,
dressed in her blue travelling coat, and carrying a small bag.

“No!” he exclaimed, guessing at once
that she was running away. He called to his valet, barking orders for a horse
to be ready on the double, and quickly dressed in his jodhpurs and riding
jacket. “Let me know the moment the horse is ready,” he said. “Don’t waste a
moment!” He also guessed Catherine would not go without leaving a note for
Alyssa, and it would give him some indication of where she was going.

In his desperate state, he burst into
Catherine’s bedroom, and, as he’d thought, found the note on the dressing
table. He had no compunction about reading it and hoped that Miss Alyssa would
understand his urgency.

“
My dearest Alyssa
,” he read. ”
For
reasons I cannot say, I have to go away. I am going to remind Cousin George of
his responsibilities, and hope that he will allow me to return to Willoughby
Manor. I know that you and Mr. Harrington will be very happy, and I wish you
both all the love in the world. Please help Kitty to find another position as I
am unable to take her with me. I am sorry to leave in such a way, darling, and
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Tell Mr. Oakley, I’m sorry.
He will know why. Your devoted sister, Catherine.”

“Sorry?” he whispered. “Catherine …
darling …” She had nothing to be sorry for. He was the fool who’d frightened
her away!

Even though he knew where she was going,
he still found himself searching her room for more clues, whilst he waited for
his horse to be ready. Under the bed he found her sketch pad, and idly flicked
through it. “Oh my love…” he murmured, as he found page after page of his own
face staring back at him.

“What’s happening?” Alyssa had heard the
commotion and came dashing into Catherine’s room.

“Catherine has run away.”

“What?”

Xander handed her the note. “I’m sorry,
I know I shouldn’t have read it. But it’s essential I know where she’s going.”

“But she’s all alone,” said Alyssa,
tears filling her pretty eyes. “Who will take care of her? Cousin George won’t.
He doesn’t care about us at all. What if he throws her out onto the street?”

“I’ll bring her back, Miss Alyssa, I
promise,” said Xander. “Then we’ll both take care of her.”

Chapter Eight

As Xander was mounting his horse, Andrew
arrived in a carriage. “Xander!”

“I can’t stop, Andrew. Miss Willoughby
has run away. I’m going to bring her back.”

“You need to hear this. The two names Miss
Willoughby gave you from the forged army documents?”

“What about them?”

“They were sisters, both dressmakers,
but were accused of being enemies of the Revolution, because they’d made gowns
for Marie Antoinette and other ladies at the French court. They were
guillotined in the first year of The Terror, Xander.”

“But who would know that unless they had
a list of all those executed?” Xander pondered.

“Exactly.  It’s enough to make them seem
trustworthy, if they opposed the Revolution.”

“But why are they leaving for America?”
said Xander. “Unless they’re planning to assassinate the king, then leave the
country immediately.”

“But at least now we know who to look
out for at all the ports.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Xander. “In the
past few days I’ve felt there’s been someone watching the house. It may be my
imagination, but my hunches are usually correct. I think we need to talk to His
Majesty about cancelling the parade. It’s too dangerous. I’ll see to it when I
return. At the moment I’m more concerned about Miss Willoughby.”

“Try not to worry too much, Xander. Miss
Willoughby has a bit more about her than most young women we know.”

It was not what Xander wanted to hear.
He wanted to believe that she desperately needed his care and protection even
if it was only to prevent her having to rely on Cousin George.

He galloped off in the general direction
that Catherine had taken, hoping that he would easily catch up with her before
she got to the coach company, but there was no sign of her. She must have
walked much faster than he imagined. When he reached the coach company he made
enquiries, but was assured that no young lady of her description had been there
that morning.

It didn’t make sense that she wouldn’t
use the nearest coach company, unless she feared being followed. He began to
wonder just how upset she was, and felt his heart grow heavy. He hated to think
of her wandering the streets of London in such a state. Anyone might take

advantage of her.

With no real clue of where he was going,
he rode through the streets near to the coach company, hoping that perhaps she
had just become lost and was approaching it by a different route.  Each time he
traced his path back to the coach company, but they still insisted they had not
seen her. As time went on, he became more and more concerned for her welfare. He
was on the approach to Blackfriars Bridge, and was about to pass a man and a
street urchin involved in a loud argument, when he noticed what they were
fighting over. It was a blue bonnet and the one he had seen Catherine wearing
that very morning.

“You’re a little thief, that’s what you
are,” said the man, striking out at the child.

“No, I’m not. I’ve got to help the
lady,” said the boy.

Xander jumped down from his horse, and
stopped the man just as he was about to clip the boy around the ear. “If you
strike the child again, I shall strike you. Be on your way, Sir.” As the
disgruntled man walked away, Xander crouched down so that he was near to the
boy’s height. The child was very undernourished, and small, but Xander guessed
him to be about ten years old. “Now tell me about the lady who owns this hat.
And I shall know if you lie.”

“I’m not lying, Sir, honestly I’m not.
They took her in a carriage, and went across the bridge with her.”

“Slow down. Where did this happen? I want
to know everything.” Xander’s heart pounded in his chest.  His instinct was to
get on his horse and chase off over the bridge in hot pursuit, but he knew he
had to get as much information as possible, to know what he was dealing with.
“First of all, what’s your name?”

“I’m Edward, Sir, but everyone calls me
Ned. She was walking, Sir.” He named the street on which he had last seen her.
“And this black carriage stops by her and a lady – an older lady with bright
red hair - sticks her head out the window. They was talking nice to begin with,
though I don’t think the young lady liked the other one. She was all stiff,
like and not wanting to talk. Then the two men jumped off the carriage and put
a sack over the young lady’s head. They knocked off her bonnet, Sir, and then
puts her into the coach. I followed them, Sir, as fast as I could, and they
come this way, towards Blackfriars Bridge. I thought if I seen where they went,
I could tell someone about the young lady being ab  … ab … stolen like, and
where they took her. But this man thought I’d stolen the hat, and I didn’t,
Sir, honestly I didn’t. I was just trying to help the pretty young lady.
There’s men that steal pretty ladies and make them do horrible things, Sir.
They took my sister, Mary and we’ve never seen her since, but every night,
mother says a prayer for her soul, saying that she will have been forced into
wickedness but that she hopes God will forgive her.”

Xander could have done without the last
bit of information. It only increased his fear for Catherine’s safety. But his
instinct told him otherwise. Catherine hadn’t been taken for that reason.

“The lady with red hair, did you happen
to hear her name?”

“I think the young lady said it, Sir. It
was Sum … Sum … Summat …”

“Somerson?”

“Yes, that’s it, Sir. There was another
lady in the carriage as well, Sir. I only saw her quickly. She was dressed like
a maid but she was bossing everyone about like she was in charge.”

“The French maid…” Xander had heard the
gossip about Phoebe’s maid, but had dismissed it as xenophobia. There were a
lot of French people living in England, having escaped The Terror, and not all
of them were enemies. Now he began to wonder. It could be that Phoebe was just
paying him back for dropping her, but that didn’t make sense. Kidnapping
Catherine was too extreme for what was merely the end of a love affair.

A different picture was beginning to
form, albeit hazily. The people he believed were watching the house, the
rumours that Phoebe’s maid liked to listen at doors. Was it all linked?
Catherine’s abduction, Phoebe’s French maid and the attempt on the king’s
life?  Whatever the reason for her abduction, he had to find her and quickly.

“You’re a good, brave boy,” Xander said
to Ned. “You’re also clever. You remember important things, and not many people
do. I happen to know the Captain, and he could use lads like you.” The little
boy seemed to grow several inches taller. “Now I want you to do something for
me. Go to my house.” Xander gave him the address.  “Ask for Mr. Harrington. Can
you remember that name?”

“Yes, Sir. Mr. Harrington.”

“Take this bonnet with you and tell Mr.
Harrington that it’s Miss Willoughby’s.”

“Is that the pretty lady, Sir?”