Page 90 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
Sir John curled his lip in a sneer and raised his cane again. An expression of determination filled Jimmy’s eyes as he turned to his tormentor.
“You know Frannie, Sir John,” Jimmy said. “She’s my sister Freda’s daughter.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Sir John asked.
“She’syour…” Jimmy began, but Andrew caught the boy’s hand and, his eyes on Sir John’s cane, shielded the lad with his body.
“It matters not, Sir John,” Andrew said, “though you would do well to remember my warning about your ledger.”
“You’ll regret crossing me,vicar,” Sir John said.
Andrew smiled. “I very much doubt it.”
Sir John let out a snort, then stumbled toward the barouche, yelling at a footman who leaped down and helped him in, where Lady Fulford fussed over him, casting a look of hatred in Andrew’s direction. Sir John barked an order then fell back into his seat with yet another coughing spasm, and the barouche drove off.
“Let’s get you inside, Jimmy,” Andrew said. “I must take a look at where that man struck you. Are you in any pain?”
“No—but we must find Frannie.”
“Do you know where she’s gone?”
“No.” Jimmy sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “We’ve been looking for her all morning, then I saw Mrs. Penfold on the lane, and she said she saw Frannie climb into the most enormous carriage not half an hour earlier.”
Andrew’s gut twisted with fear. “Willingly?” he asked.
“Aye. Mrs. Penfold said that she called out, and Frannie waved back before climbing in.”
“Was there anyone else in the carriage?”
“A woman, Mrs. Penfold thought, but it was dark inside, and she couldn’t see who. It was a very fine carriage, she said.”
A woman.
It cannot be a coincidence…
“Sir John told me that Loveday’s husband was looking for her.”
“Do you suppose they’ve run off together?” Jimmy asked. “Oh, Frannie! Why did she run?”
Why indeed? Perhaps Etty had the answer—Etty, who was able to understand the guilt poor little Frannie suffered merely by being born, and the shame Loveday had endured through being violated.
“Was it the mail coach?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Mail coach doesn’t come by on a Friday, and it only stops at the Sailor, not the end of the lane. I-I hoped you might know, seein’ as you’re so fond of Frannie.”
“And…Mrs. Ward?”
“I was goin’ to try Mrs. Ward next. She might know where Frannie’s gone.”
“Then let us go together.”
Jimmy nodded, and they set off for Shore Cottage.
As the isolated little building came into view, Andrew’s skin tightened with apprehension. It seemed to exude an air of abandonment. He shook his head, cursing his folly. But he quickened his pace nevertheless.
As he approached the cottage, he glanced at the chimney for the telltale wisp of smoke, but there was none. He grasped the door handle and turned it. It yielded with ease and swung inward.
The hallway was empty. The little seascape that adorned the wall opposite the parlor door had gone, leaving a nail where it had hung. He approached the parlor, his footsteps echoing, and his heart fluttered as he opened the door.
