Page 19 of Taken to the Grave
He guided her into the carriage, and then climbed in after her. “I would like to show you something. It’s a short drive from here. Travers, ask Carrigan to go to 37 Berkeley Square.”
The footman bowed and shut the door. Audrey peered at him, her keen curiosity bowing her lips in a way that made him want to whisk her into his lap and kiss her.
“What is at 37 Berkeley Square?” she asked.
“Patience, Duchess. Patience,” he said, and from the driver’s box, Carrigan urged the horses onward.
Chapter
Six
Audrey sank back into the squabs in the carriage. “The vile cad!”
Hugh had just described the letter Mr. Comstock had delivered to Mr. Silas, outlining his demands for two hundred pounds every year on top of the income from Bethany’s dowry in return for a proper elopement with his daughter—and not depositing home a thoroughly ruined one instead.
“I’d be tempted to slip a little arsenic into his pudding next Christmas if I were Mr. Silas, but,” Hugh shrugged and held out his hands, palms up, “it looks as though a trip to Gretna Green is to blame for Bethany’s disappearance after all.”
He didn’t appear relieved, or even very convinced. His jaw grated, his narrowed stare trained on the window, since leaving Bow Street. The run-in with Officer Tyne had vexed him. Sir’s unknown whereabouts weighed on him too.
Audrey had finished telling him about Flora Bertram’s ruse to get her alone on the pavement outside her home, and the young girl’s information. But the letter Hugh had read in Sir Gabriel’s office wholly disputed her claims.
“Flora was certain it wasn’t an elopement,” Audrey sighed.
“She is what age, twelve?”
“Don’t disparage her just because she is young. Children often have better opportunity than most to go unnoticed.”
“I’m not disparaging her,” he replied. “But she may have misinterpreted what she overheard.”
Audrey granted that it was possible. “But what could the sanctuary be that Bethany and Gwendolyn spoke of?”
It was where Bethany had claimed to be going. Not Gretna Green, but thesanctuary.
“My guess is that Comstock tricked Bethany and lied to her about several things in order to see his plan through. The sanctuary, whatever it is, could be part of those lies,” Hugh said.
The carriage slowed and turned. They’d been traveling west, toward Berkeley Square, and Audrey’s desire to know the reason why continued to spike her pulse. She wasn’t dressed for any society function. Gunter’s Tea Shop was on Berkeley Square. He could be taking her there. Oddly enough, thinking about Bethany Silas and the mystery surrounding her absence soothed her in comparison to the mysterious outing they were currently undertaking.
“Why would Comstock demand so little?” she asked. “Two hundred pounds is nothing, really. Why not prey upon someone much wealthier?”
Hugh’s attention again went to the window, as if he couldn’t tear himself away from the streets and pavements scrolling by—and the chance that he might catch a glimpse of Sir. She’d wager everything that was what was truly bothering him. She held still on her bench, even though she wanted to join him on his and run her thumb along his cheek, smoothing the line there from his perpetual frown.
“Sir Gabriel argues that Comstock was wise to choose his target as he did. Why draw attention to himself with a young lady of higher social standing? Why curry hatred and distrust among those with more power?”
It was reasonable. But something simply didn’t feelrightabout it.
“I still think we should speak to Gwendolyn privately, without her mother present. It may loosen her tongue,” Audrey said.
Hugh didn’t disagree, but he also was no longer focused on their discussion. Carrigan turned off Piccadilly, onto Berkeley Street, toward the square.
“When do you plan to tell me what we are doing here?” she asked.
They drove past the newly greening lawns belonging to Lansdowne House, the mansion set back at the north side of the square. Five blocks of townhomes occupied the east, south, and west sides, all of them well-kept and stately.
“When we arrive,” Hugh answered as Carrigan drew them to the west side of the square, where number thirty-seven was located. Her driver stopped, and without waiting for Travers, Hugh opened the door and stepped down. He held out his hand and, even more nervous now, Audrey descended.
“Really, Hugh, I hope we aren’t meeting with anyone. I like to be prepared,” she started to say as he led her closer to the front entrance. She dug in her heels, and he stopped.
“What do you think?” he asked, peering up at the townhome.
