The Scarlet Bride (37 page)

“There is no sign of him,” Crawford said as he and the duke returned. “If he didn’t drown, then he’s made his escape.”

T
he night brought dreams of Henry, choked in seaweed, reaching up for Laura from the depths of the Thames. She woke up at two in the morning, drenched in a chill sweat, her body shaking.

The dream had felt real, down to his cold dead hand locked on to her wrist.

Worried that he’d survived the river and had come back for her, she rushed to the window and scanned the garden. Seeing nothing to cause alarm, she ran barefoot down the stairs to peer out every window of every unoccupied room of the school.

“Nothing,” she whispered. She proceeded to backtrack, checking the locks. The school was secure, with guards watching the perimeter, just out of sight.

Feeling foolish, she returned to her room for a few more hours of restless sleep.

Y
ou have a visitor, Laura,” Sophie said later that afternoon in the garden. “It is Lady Seymour.”

Laura frowned. “Lady Seymour?” According to Simon,
there were Harringtons all over England. But how many Harrington women would know about the school and travel to Cheapside to see her? One by her calculation. Her heart dipped. “It cannot be Simon’s mother.”

“She didn’t say,” Sophie replied. “I’m not privy to any further information.”

Laura stood and walked up the garden path to the back door. As she passed through the kitchen and into the hallway, she stopped briefly to check herself in a mirror over a hall table. Outside of sleep-rimmed red eyes, she looked reasonably presentable—if she were entertaining a flower vender or a shopkeeper.

If the guest was indeed the countess, Laura was badly in need of the attentions of an experienced maid.

Sadly, she lacked both a ladies maid and a fancy dress to change into. And decent breeding left her knowing it was rude to dash off and hide. She’d have to face the countess with pride and courage.

With a sigh, she stopped outside the parlor, smoothed her dress, and stepped into the open doorway.

Lady Seymour was not a matronly mother, nor was she a pinch-faced noblewoman in a too-tight corset. The woman was lovely in a simple blue day dress. As she sipped her tea and chatted with Miss Eva, her smiles were warm and genuine.

Remembering the story Simon told her about how his parents met, Laura could easily see why Simon’s father had been so enamored of Kathleen that he’d married her the day they met.

It was the countess who first spotted Laura in the doorway. Her smile faded to open curiosity as she seemed to take Laura’s measure.

Any discomfort Laura felt notched up with each tick-tock of the clock. Miss Eva sat quietly, watching them both, with a half smile on her face.

“Please come and join us, Miss Prescott,” Lady Seymour said finally. She slid over on the settee.

“Yes, My Lady.” She squelched a resigned sigh.

Laura braced herself and took a seat beside Simon’s mother. She clasped her hands primly in her lap and waited.

“You are not at all what I expected,” the countess admitted. “I’d heard that there was a woman in Simon’s life and thought he’d finally chosen a wife. It came as a surprise to discover she was the same woman who was Aunt Bernie’s new companion.” Lady Harrington paused. “It was through gathering bits of information from my aunt and the staff and then pressing my son for details that I discovered you were not my future daughter but a mysterious woman my son helped flee a difficult situation.”

“I am anything but mysterious, My Lady,” Laura countered gently. “I am just a poor squire’s daughter who became the victim of an unfortunate situation.”

“So I understand.” Lady Seymour set down her teacup. “My son has an attachment to you.”

“He has placed himself in the position of my champion. Nothing more,” Laura assured her. She was certain any feelings Simon had for her would fade once the case was finished. “Since my rescue, he has decided that he is the one person who can disentangle me from this unacceptable situation.”

“Hmm.” Lady Seymour glanced at Miss Eva. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

Miss Eva smiled and stood. “Of course.”

When they were alone, the countess turned in the seat to face Laura fully. “I think you underestimate my son. There is something about you that has pricked his interest as no other woman has.”

“You must know that I expect nothing from him.”

Lady Seymour nodded. She held Laura’s gaze. After a moment she said, “Will you tell me your story?”

Laura wanted to refuse. It was kindness in the woman’s eyes that finally led her to agree. Her history had been told many times of late. What would one more time matter?

“It is an unhappy tale. Not the sort of story one usually shares over tea.”

“Please,” Lady Seymour urged.

For the next half hour, Laura told Simon’s mother about her life. There was little she left out, including the murder. When she was finished, she slumped back in the settee, completely depleted of emotion.

“As you can see, I am nearly penniless and am certainly homeless. I am living off the kindness of Miss Eva. No matter how many loaves of bread I bake or dresses I wash, I will never be able to repay her for all she’s done for me.”

“I don’t believe Miss Eva expects repayment.”

“No, she does not,” Laura agreed. “As for your son, I care very much for him. However, he is not in my plans for my future. Our lives are too divergent.”

“You are a sensible young woman.” The countess pulled on her gloves and stood. “Perhaps you should wait until after the case has been resolved before you firm up any plans. You cannot know what the future holds.” She smiled. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Prescott.”

Laura watched her walk from the room.

She waited until the door closed behind Simon’s mother before she dumped several lumps of sugar into her tea with shaking hands, swallowed down the sweet concoction to calm herself, and puzzled over the exchange.

Lady Seymour left her with as many questions as answers. Why had she come and what did she expect from the meeting? Was she hoping to assure herself that Simon’s plans to marry Lady Jeanette would not be thwarted by a courtesan?

If that was the case, the countess had no worries.

S
imon arrived shortly after his mother left. He found Laura in the parlor. She was staring off at a painting of a landscape and didn’t immediately notice his arrival.

“Laura? Is something the matter?”

She frowned and turned her head. “I’m not sure.” He moved to sit beside her. “Your mother came for a visit. It was very strange. She asked me about myself and then left.”

His mother was here? “How did she know where to find you?”

“I have no idea. She told me nothing.” Laura rubbed her arms. “She may have gone off to summon the Bow Street Runners. Who would want their son mixed up with a murderess?”

“She would not do that,” Simon assured her, though he wasn’t at all certain what his mother had planned. Her visit was as much a surprise to him as to Laura. “She knows you are innocent. I explained it well.”

“I wouldn’t be so convinced of that. She has only your word that I’m not a killer. Mothers will go to great lengths to protect their children.”

He stretched out his legs. “Whatever her reason, I’ll find out soon enough. Mother does nothing without a purpose behind her actions.”

A commotion sounded from outside—a shout and then a second. Simon jumped to his feet and hurried to the window. He watched two guards race past the house toward the garden.

“Something has happened.” With Laura following, he ran to the kitchen and outside. A guard was on the ground and several other guards circled him. Simon brushed them aside and bent to the fallen man. He had a gash on his shoulder.

“What happened?” Simon asked.

“I heard the gate open and went to investigate. I was attacked from behind by a man with a knife.” He winced. “We fought briefly and I chased him off.” He gave a brief description of his attacker.

“Henry, the bastard,” Simon growled. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the wound as Laura knelt beside him. Concern and fear were etched in her features.

“Only a coward doesn’t face his foe,” Laura said. “He is getting brazen and desperate. There are guards everywhere.”

“Desperation notches up the danger,” Simon agreed.
“Whatever is driving this risk taking will explode eventually and everyone around him will suffer.”

Sophie arrived, pushing through the men. She quickly assessed the guard’s injury. “Bring him into the house. I will tend him.”

With Sophie leading the way, Simon and another guard half carried the injured man into the town house, while the rest of the men took up watch outside.

Once the man was settled in the parlor, Simon pulled Laura aside. “Gather your things. I’m taking you to my town house.”

Laura nodded. “I cannot stay here. It risks Sophie and the ladies.” She hurried away.

Within a few minutes, Simon shuffled Laura off into a hackney, making a grand production of doing so, hoping that if Henry was still lurking, he’d follow her away from the school.

Once settled, Laura pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Henry has proven he will do anything to get to me. Neither guards nor witnesses will stop him now.”

“We cut him off from what few possessions he had when we chased him from the inn. Unless he has help, he is without funds and a place to hide.” Simon took a breath. “Crawford has set the Runners on his tail, claiming that he received information about a new suspect in the murder. Though skeptical, they have confiscated Henry’s things from the inn and are following this new information.”

“So we wait?”

Simon shook his head. “He is running headlong towards something and you are the key. It won’t be long until he makes a mistake and is caught.”

“Then I will sit like bait in the Harrington town house and wait for the rat to come out to play.”

W
hen they arrived at the town house, Simon left her in the foyer and went to seek out his parents. Laura fidgeted, staring at the walls, the ceiling, and the paintings,
trying to calm her nerves. She sniffed a vase of flowers and fidgeted some more. She passed her valise from hand to hand before finally setting it on the floor.

After what seemed like an eternity, Simon reappeared. “My parents would like to see you.”

Laura’s stomach dropped. She picked up her valise. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just have me ejected out of the house from here?”

Simon shook his head. “You are not to be ejected. My father wants to see if Mother was correct about your character.”

“Excellent.”

He took her arm and escorted her to the library. The warmth of the familiar room didn’t clear the chill from her limbs as she faced the new earl.

The man was tall and handsome. The paternal connection between father and son was clear on their faces. They resembled each other remarkably. She curtsied. “My Lord. My Lady.”

“Miss Prescott.” Lord Seymour stood and rounded his desk. He looked at her over a pair of reading glasses. “I understand that you have gotten my son into all sorts of mischief these last few weeks, including a race about the wharf last evening on the tail of a possible murderer.”

With knees shaking, she managed to meet his eyes. “In all fairness, My Lord, Simon got himself into mischief when he rode in to rescue me from Westwick’s footmen. Had he dropped me off at the school and never returned, he would not have risked his neck by jumping out that window last night.”

Lord Seymour nodded, amusement in his eyes. “My son is impulsive. And I can see why he is fascinated with you. You are very unlike that simpering Lady Jeanette.”

“Father,” Simon warned. “We did not come here to discuss Lady Jeanette. We came to seek shelter for Laura.”

The countess stepped forward. “Of course Laura will stay here. It will give the two of us time to get better acquainted.”

Never had Laura heard a more ominous comment. Though Lady Seymour appeared kind, she was a mother first. If she saw any indication that her son was falling in love with a courtesan, she’d have Laura kidnapped and dropped off somewhere in the wilds of Northumberland.

“It will be my pleasure to get better acquainted with you, Lady Seymour,” she managed through a tight throat. The countess’s smile was a touch mischievous, as if she saw Laura’s discomfort and enjoyed it immensely.

“Excellent.” The countess crossed the room and passed Laura. “Come, I shall see you settled.”

Laura shot Simon a pleading look. He shrugged. The silent plead turned into a frown. He’d dropped her into a lion cage without a weapon to fend off the sharp-toothed felines.

“I have just the room for you.” The countess led the way up the stairs to a tastefully decorated rose and white room. The color was subtle and warm and overlooked the street. Laura placed her valise on the bed for the maid, who quickly unpacked her meager possessions.

Shamed for the countess to see her poverty displayed in the old clothing, Laura spent a minute putting her parents’ miniatures in just the right place on the writing desk. When she finally turned back to the countess, the maid was gone and Lady Seymour was wearing a curious expression.