Page 2 of Taken to the Grave
“What leads you to say that?” Hugh would take her opinion with a liberal grain of salt, if only because not very long ago, he, too, had been branded as a blackguard.
His half-brother, Bartholomew, had perpetuated a lie that had brought Hugh and his half-sister, Eloisa, to utter ruination. For years, the beau monde in London had believed Hugh had sullied his own half-sister, and his brother had happily allowed that lie to stand firm. Barty had wanted to cover up the truth—that his other brother, Thomas, was the degenerate abuser, not Hugh. The scandal had come out just over a year ago, and even with Barty’s disgrace and disappearance from society, the Neatham title still suffered a black mark that would not easily scrub out. Hugh was loath to sully another man’s reputation without proof.
However, Mrs. Silas’s lips gaped in offense at his question. “I amledto say that because the man took my Bethany one week ago and never returned her!”
The choice of wording set him ill at ease. As if Bethany were an object, and Mr. Comstock had broken into the Silas household and stolen her.
Lady Rebecca patted her sister’s arm, then more calmly said, “He is a mystery to us, Lord Neatham. Bethany made his acquaintance at Vauxhall while she was with her friend, Miss Gwendolyn Bertram, but we know very little else of him.”
“He claimed to be the son of a squire,” Mrs. Silas said. “The late Vernon Comstock. He seemed like a dandy to Mr. Silas and me, one of the young men about Town looking to catch a wife.”
Hugh nodded, but also knew there were plenty of young men looking not for a wife but only to sow their wild oats. He paced back toward his desk. “The day she disappeared, did Mr. Comstock collect your daughter from your home, or did they meet elsewhere?”
Mrs. Silas deepened the sneer on her already pinched lips. “He and his sister escorted Bethany on another outing, to Vauxhall.”
At the second mention of the pleasure gardens across the river, Hugh glanced at the clock. In less than an hour, he would be leaving for Vauxhall himself. He was to meet Audrey there. Her mourning period had recently ended, and they’d agreed it would be a good place to make their first public appearance together. The rumors of their understanding had proliferated throughout the ton over the last few months, and Hugh was more than ready for rumor to become fact.
“Vauxhall seems a natural place for a young couple to go,” he said, but Mrs. Silas scoffed.
“All kinds mix there.”
“More importantly, Lord Neatham,” Lady Rebecca said with an exasperated look at her sister, “my husband has since learned that the late Vernon Comstock hadonechild. A son, Mr. Travis Comstock. So, you see, he does not have a sister. We do notknow who the young lady truly was. Nor if Bethany ever arrived at the pleasure gardens. If she planned to elope, she would have packed for the travel, and yet all her belongings are still in her room. She did not take so much as a handkerchief.”
That bit of information struck a discordant note within him, rousing a strain of concern for the girl.
“I presume you’ve spoken to Bethany’s friend, this Miss Bertram, to see if she knows anything of her whereabouts?”
“I could not,” Mrs. Silas said, her voice pitched high into a near whine. “Mr. Silas forbade me to so much as breathe a word about her being missing. Instead, he wishes to wait until she returns asMrs.Comstock and then smooth over the whole scandal, pretending that we knew of the discreet wedding all along.”
To not post wedding banns and to marry quickly, with special license, usually indicated the need for a hasty wedding. The lady being in the family way, for instance. It was not the fashionable thing to do, but it happened, and so long as no scandal or uproar surrounded the events, it should not affect the Silas’ reputations.
“And have you tried to call upon Mr. Comstock?”
It would be the first, most rational thing to do. However, Mrs. Silas gasped as if horrified. “Call on him ourselves? Of course not! Mr. Silas made inquiries and learned he leases bachelor’s rooms at the Chesterfield on Portman Square. But he refuses to go.”
Mr. Silas likely had too much pride and couldn’t stomach chasing after the man who may have ruined his daughter. Hugh returned to his chair and folded his hands on the desk. He could understand the ladies’ concern, and yet he could also see where the pair of lovers may have simply eloped. Who knew, this Travis Comstock may have purchased Bethany new things for their journey, rendering packing—and potentially tipping off her parents prematurely—unnecessary.
Still, the twinge of doubt would not be silenced, not even when he imagined Sir Gabriel’s intimidating scowl.
“Very well, I will pay Mr. Comstock’s rooms a visit and will see if I can learn anything more about him.”
Lady Rebecca and Mrs. Silas both seemed to deflate with relief. He held up a hand. “That’s not to say I am taking on this investigation. I am only going to look into Mr. Comstock’s whereabouts for now.”
“And if you find anything of concern, what then?” Mrs. Silas asked.
He knew what he would have to do, whether he wanted to or not. “If that is the case, I will speak to Sir Gabriel.”
Lady Rebecca grinned in recognizable victory. “Thank you, my lord.”
He bristled and wondered how long it would be until being addressed as “my lord” didn’t feel like a cat’s tongue licking his skin.
Lady Rebecca and her sister were moving toward the study door when Basil appeared in the threshold. To look at him, one might think he was butler of the house, dressed as he was in a fine black swallowtail coat, white waistcoat, tall stock, and cravat. However, he was far too concerned with Hugh’s outward appearance to be anything other than a fastidious and snobby valet. The running of the new Viscount Neatham’s household was not nearly as important to Basil as the supervising of the viscount’s wardrobe.
However, Basil’s patience over Hugh continuing to reside in his pre-peer status home, had frayed. After a full year of being viscount, Hugh knew it was time to change residence.
“It is five o’clock,” Basil announced after the two women had exited. Mr. Whitlock, Hugh’s butler, would see them out.
“I am aware,” Hugh said, with another look at the clock. He’d been checking it all day, eager for the evening, and to see Audrey again.
