Educating Elizabeth

Chapter 31

She hadn't denied anything.

Gervase stared at the empty chair in front of his desk and recalled Elizabeth's expression when he had confronted her with the evidence of her deceit. With a curse, he ground out his Spanish cigar and continued to glare at the chair. Weak sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains and glinted off the bracelet he had thrown at Elizabeth.

She hadn't claimed it.

Gervase picked up the bracelet and wearily admired its sparkle before letting it slide through his fingers. How could he return it to Angelique if she followed through with her threat and left him for good? In one night he had managed to alienate the two most important women in his life.

His thoughts returned to Elizabeth. Some part of him, the part she had encouraged to bloom within his soul, had hoped she would defend herself.

She hadn't even tried.

Gervase walked across to the window, loosened his crumpled cravat, and dug his fingers into the tense muscles at the back of his neck. Despite running over her every word and gesture a thousand times, he still couldn't decide what bothered him most about Elizabeth's behavior. Why hadn't she defended herself with her normal wit and vigor? Why had she capitulated so easily?

His ragged sigh misted the glass as he gazed down onto the square. It was still raining in a desultory fashion so no one was about. It would be ironic if the Prince Regent, a notoriously fussy man, called off the victory parade on the morrow for fear he might catch a chill.

A discreet tap on the door made Gervase look up. Nicholas came in, his tawny hair damp, his expression strained.

"Well?" Gervase asked.

Nicholas turned to the fire and held his hands out to the blaze. "She didn't go to the Foresters."

"Then where in damnation did she go?"

"I don't know, Your Grace. By the time I set out to find her yesterday evening, Miss Waterstone had disappeared."

Gervase rubbed a distracted hand over his unshaven chin. He had counted on Elizabeth returning to the Foresters. "Did you also ascertain that she didn't go to Angelique's?"

Nicholas sank into a chair and stared down at his clasped hands. "Angelique told me to tell you that if Miss Waterstone did turn to her for help, she would give it willingly and be damned to you."

Gervase allowed his suspicions free rein. Was Elizabeth already on her way across the Channel to the safety of revolutionary France? If she were, his fragile hopes of her innocence would receive their final deathblow.

"There is something I don't understand, Your Grace," Nicholas said slowly. "When we searched Miss Waterstone's room, she had no money hidden anywhere."

Gervase shrugged. "She is a woman, Nicholas. She probably spent it on fashionable fripperies and bonbons."

Nicholas shook his head. "I've been shopping with Miss Waterstone on several occasions and she rarely bought anything for herself. So, what has she done with her money?" He looked up at Gervase, his eyes haunted. "What if she was telling the truth, and she supports her invalid brother?"

"I asked the Foreign Office about her brother and have received no reply." Gervase answered. "What if she secreted the money in a bank and used it to aid her escape?"

Nicholas let out a gusty sigh. "I don't know, Your Grace. When she walked out yesterday, she didn't look like a villain with a plan. She looked frightened." He dropped his head into his hands and his voice became muffled. "I keep imagining Miss Waterstone out in the rain last night, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to..."

Gervase shook off the image of Elizabeth's haunted face and attempted to redirect Nicholas's uncomfortable thoughts in another direction. "Is Jack Llewelyn still at the Foresters?"

"Yes, Your Grace, although I'm not sure if he is actually living there or not." Nicholas squirmed in his seat when Gervase shot him a questioning look. "I spoke to one of the kitchen maids today and she told me he has a room in Broad Street. I haven't yet had the opportunity to confirm her story."

Gervase turned back to his desk. "You will do better than that, Nick. You will bring Jack Llewelyn here this morning and I will ask him myself."

"I will go and get him right now, Your Grace."

Gervase touched his arm. "Go and eat something first. Jack Llewelyn can wait for half an hour."

When Jack Llewelyn strolled into Gervase's study at noon, it was all Gervase could do not to leap over his desk and wrap his hands around the man's throat. Llewelyn had the flashy, blond good looks women seemed to swoon over. Gervase stood but didn't offer the other man his hand. Without waiting to be asked, Llewelyn sat down, one scruffy booted foot crossed over the other, and looked up at Gervase.

"What do you want, Your Grace? I have to get back to work."

As Gervase had anticipated, Llewelyn's voice retained the privileged tones of his aristocratic upbringing combined with the hint of a Welsh accent.

"Am I addressing Lord Jack Llewelyn?"

Llewelyn grimaced. "If you are as intelligent as I've been led to believe, Your Grace, you will know that I never use my title. In truth, my esteemed, estranged father would probably die of apoplexy if he heard you addressing me as 'my lord anything'. He has expressly forbidden it."

Gervase sat down. "Considering your reputation, it is hardly surprising your father has cut the connection between you, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow as Llewelyn shrugged an indolent shoulder. "Or are you about to tell me you were wronged?"

Something dangerous flashed in Llewelyn's brown eyes as he locked gazes with Gervase. Then he grinned. "I doubt you asked me here to discuss my family, Your Grace. Unless you have been given the task of informing me that my father is dead?"

Gervase shook his head and Llewelyn sighed. "Damn, I thought not. My brother Edward would surely relish telling me I wasn't mentioned in my father's will. He would scarcely allow another the privilege of delivering such damning news."

Gervase cleared his throat. "I wished to speak to you about Miss Elizabeth Waterstone."

Llewelyn's smile died. "Miss Waterstone is my employer. Has something untoward happened to her?"

Gervase studied Llewelyn intently, but he could find no trace of lover-like alarm in his demeanor. "Have you seen Miss Waterstone since you met with her at the coffee house yesterday morning?"

Llewelyn snorted. "Do you have all your employees followed, or is there something particular about Miss Waterstone that makes her untrustworthy?"

"My methods of obtaining information have nothing to do with this conversation. I'm inquiring about Miss Waterstone's current whereabouts and your relationship with her."

Llewelyn leaned forward and extracted a cigar from the open box on Gervase's desk. "I've already told you, Your Grace. Miss Waterstone is my employer. She pays my wages. I haven't seen her since yesterday morning when we met, as we do every week, to discuss her brother's progress."

Gervase raised his eyebrows. "I find it hard to believe that you are masquerading as a caregiver to a man who, I've been reliably informed, died in Spain." He slammed the lid of the cigar box shut and rose to his feet. "If you wish to avoid another humiliating brush with the authorities, may I suggest you tell me what is really going on?"

Llewelyn stood as well, his brown eyes level with the dukes, his expression just as intimidating. "May I suggest that you get your facts right before you go around attempting to frighten innocent people? I'm not surprised Miss Waterstone has disappeared if this is how you treat her."

Gervase stepped forward until less than a foot separated him from Llewelyn and grabbed hold of the other man's waistcoat. "Damnation, tell me where she is. She might be in danger!"

Llewelyn stepped back and Gervase reluctantly released his grip. "I don't know where she is, Your Grace, but if anything happens to her, I shall know who to blame."

He headed for the door, leaving Gervase stranded in the center of the room. "If you doubt my word, Your Grace, perhaps you would care to accompany me to the Foresters' house early tomorrow morning? I will be at Hyde Park Corner at seven. You can meet Miss Waterstone's brother, Michael, and perhaps learn something to your advantage."

Before Gervase could reply, Jack Llewelyn was gone and Gervase was reduced to pacing the floor again. In an attempt to keep busy, he wandered into Sir John's study.

He bent to pick up a scrap of lace from the carpet and his nostrils caught the scent of lily of the valley. He raised the dainty handkerchief to his lips as a vision of Elizabeth filled his senses. He could just see her sitting there, her spectacles on her nose, her fingers stained with ink, her skirts in disarray as he plunged inside her...

God, where was she?

Gervase crushed the handkerchief in his fingers and stuffed it into his pocket, glad that no one had witnessed his moment of weakness. Sir John had organized the prompt removal of Elizabeth's desk and no further hint of her vital personality remained to taunt him. As his composure returned, Gervase glanced at the clock and frowned as he registered the lack of his normally prompt secretary.

A folded piece of parchment addressed to him lay on Sir John's desk. On opening the missive, Gervase found a note from Sir John apologizing for his absence, citing family problems. Gervase squinted down at his secretary's crabbed script. He hadn't even known Sir John had a family. He needed his secretary here! To his further annoyance there was no mention of when Sir John expected to return.

"Damnation!"

Gervase crushed the parchment into a ball and threw it toward the empty, coal-blackened fireplace. It bounced off the edge of the grate and, with a curse, Gervase went to retrieve it. A glimpse of white brought his attention to another crumpled letter that had failed to burn properly. Recognizing the official seal of the Foreign Office, Gervase picked it up and smoothed out the charred edges.

When he broke the seal he had to read the contents twice before he could make any sense of it. It seemed that Elizabeth and Llewelyn had spoken the truth. The Foreign Office had provided details of the pitiful pension it paid to Lieutenant Michael Waterstone, a wounded veteran of Wellington's Peninsula campaign. The address given as his residence was the Foresters'.

Gervase stared at the letter for a long time as dread coalesced in his stomach. Hadn't Sir John confirmed that Michael Waterstone was dead? His eyes went to the top of the letter. It had been sent two days ago.

Had Elizabeth dumped the letter in the wastepaper basket, fearing its contents, or had Sir John done it? His secretary's convenient disappearance seemed more sinister by the second.

Gervase jumped when Standish knocked on the door. His butler informed him that the carriage was at his disposal. He was due at the Foreign Office for a final discussion of the security measures for the victory parade. There was no way he could avoid the commitment.

With a growl of frustration, he retrieved his gloves and hat from Standish and headed into the rain. He could only pray that Elizabeth was at least safe somewhere and resolve to follow up Jack Llewelyn's suggestion for an early visit to the Foresters' on the morning of the parade.