Page 10 of A Daring Pursuit

Blood rushed Geneva’s ears at the daunting implications, obliterating any exchange between the two. How was she to find her locket now? The sickness she’d experienced toward the end of the train ride was nothing compared to the now sudden nausea. “But… the old earl…” she whispered.

With an elegant bow worthy of Prince Albert, “Lucius” rose back to his full, impressive height. Arrogance emitted from him like a fog. “Is no longer. As of two days ago.”

Her stomach cramped. “Two days…” She’d missed the earl, the answers she craved, by just two miserable days.

Loathing, hot and furious, curled through her, watching Meredith’s horrible husband wave out a hand toward his brother. “Where is Father’s body?” The stark, frigid demeanor of this new Earl of Pender struck Geneva anew. This… this unfeelingbrutewas whom her friend was tied to for life! Oh, to have her trusty knife—

Man Number One spoke. “The parlor, of course.”

More shock—or was it dread?—completeshockpumped through Geneva’s blood. Panic. Panic too. That sweltering greatcoat. Swallowing hard, she gripped Abra’s hand. “What am I to do?” she whispered.

Abra’s hand squeezed back. But her eyes were locked on the younger earl, seething venom. Outright fury, near hatred that was so unlike her friend. Even in their darkest days at Miss Greensley’s, Geneva had never witnessed such unbridled contempt from her. Geneva, yes, as she was unrefined. Not Abra. Never Abra.

A footman moved into the vestibule and held out a dark greatcoat to Man Number One, but he waved him off. “Never mind, Fletcher.” He glanced at the pretty woman in the yellow dress and winced again. “I’m afraid plans have changed. I’m sorry, Docia.”

The pretty woman drew herself up, donning her own cloak, albeit an invisible one. “Yes, I can see that.” She stormed past Geneva and Abra, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume on her way to the door. “And it’sMiss Haleto you.”

Within minutes, the sound of horse hooves pounded the ground. But they went on forever and seemed to grow closer rather than farther away.

But then there was the sound of carriage doors opening, followed by people chattering, then crowding the entry as they pushed their way inside. The butler reappeared and Geneva stepped farther into the shadows, pulling Abra along with her.

Now that the Earl of Pender she’d sought was dead, locket aside, it was clear the answers she desired with every fiber of her being were lost to her forever.

Chapter Four

Miss Geneva Wimbley’sblood-drained features had Noah taking a step forward, if only to catch her from a dead faint. But Uncle Sander and Aunt Verda’s entrance amid Lucius’s untimely arrival blocked his effort. Miss Wimbley had moved into the shadows and was clutching her companion’s hand. She had her own pillar of strength, it seemed. Her white-knuckled grip deepened the contrast in the pigment of the two women’s skin. The rich, amber tone of her friend’s complexion and striking hazel eyes that leaned toward green was an arresting combination that spoke of an interesting heritage.

Not quite as interesting as Miss Wimbley from London, however, with her deep, dark-chestnut shade of hastily gathered curls at her nape. The quaint, upturned nose, and stubborn chin teased him with an interwoven thread of discomfort. He was a bastard for the relief plowing through him at her sudden appearance. Not in the literal sense, of course. He was definitely the son of the former Earl of Pender and his countess. And they had been legally wed.

No, the sense of liberation solidified Noah’s earlier misgivings that a union with Docia would have led to catastrophic failure. Of course, he would have to deal with the fact that he’d promised his hand to his childhood nemesis. But there was plenty of time for that later. First and foremost was handling the nature of his father’s demise. Elaborating on the nature of his death in a letter had been out of the question.

Aunt Verda rushed forward and hugged him. “Oh, darling, how awful for you”—she turned to Lucius, including him—“both, regarding your father. We decided not to stay the night in London after all and rushed home.” Her voice boomed against freshly waxed floors that resembled nothing of the dilapidation of 1827 when she’d entered their lives nineteen years ago. The echo startled him into action.

His Uncle Sander appeared next. “Are we to gather in the doorway all day, Noah?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled then looking around, he frowned. “Where’s Julius?” After all these years, the protectiveness over his younger brother hadn’t waned in the least.

“Here.” Julius appeared in the door with a scraggly ragdoll on his shoulders.

“Me, too.” Said ragdoll was fourteen and much too old for such antics. Her bright-red hair matched her mother’s, but her gray eyes were Oshea through and through.

Noah shook his head. “Honestly, Isabelle.” He strode forward and lifted his fragile cousin from Julius’s shoulders, set her carefully to her feet, and held her until she balanced herself. An infected snake bite at the age of four had left her foot in a condition no specialty doctor could fix, at least to Sander and Verda’s satisfaction. Not in a manner that outweighed the risks involved. The imp’s vastly independent nature would have them all bound for Bedlam by the time the chit married.

Isabelle wrapped her arms around Noah’s waist and hugged him tightly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, poppet.”

“It’s starting to rain,” Julius said, urging everyone inside. He stopped, coming face to face with Miss Wimbley and her companion. “Oh, who have we here?”

The entire family stopped and all eyes turned to the newcomers.

Noah picked up the introductions. “This is Miss Geneva Wimbley of London and…” His voice trailed off.

“Er, yes.” Miss Wimbley recovered and color returned to her cheeks in an engaging blush. Something he suspected didn’t happen often. “This is my friend, Lady Abra Washington.”

Washington. English, then. The name was familiar, but Noah rarely moved through society and instead tucked the information away.

“The library, then,” Noah said. “Father is laid out in the parlor for viewing. I expect the next few days will be quite hectic. The castle will be overrun with visitors.”

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