Page 14 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

Chapter 4

Dearest Matilda,

I think it’s finally happened. Violetta did not come home after her outing with Leo. I think that nephew of yours has finally come to his senses and run off with her! How he persuaded her into it, I cannot imagine. Well, I can, obviously, but that Vi agreed is something else. Still, he’s such a handsome fellow she was never going to hold out forever. I confess I would have capitulated to his advances the first time he flashed that wicked smile my way. Oh, I’m so excited. Also, I had the most peculiar message from Vi by telegraph this evening. Some story about Mau being kidnapped, as if I should believe such a thing. Why she thought she needed to make up a bizarre story, I do not know, but I suppose one does not wish to announce an elopement over a telegram. The news would be all over the city by morning. I wonder if they shall go to Greta Green. How romantic it would be. Of course there will be a dreadful scandal, not that I care a button for that, though Luke will not be pleased. I confess I have not told him the whole… I shall be in a deal of trouble, no doubt, when he discovers it. Never mind. I must give Leo the chance he needs without his soon to be father-in-law barging in and spoiling things.

Keep fingers and toes crossed for me, Tilda. I shall keep you posted.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Right Hon’ble Kitty Baxter, The Countess of Trevick, to her friend The Most Hon’ble Matilda Barrington, The Marchioness of Montagu.

24th June 1850, somewhere northeast of Biggleswade.

Tadlow was a tiny village on the river and Leo’s spirits sank as they arrived in the centre by the parish church, for they were no nearer to finding Mau. There had been a magnificent sunset that had lightened both their hearts while it endured, for it had been a thing of great beauty, streaking the sky with great swathes of vibrant pink and startling orange. It would be full dark in little more than half an hour, however, though there was a bright waxing moon that promised not to leave them entirely plunged into gloom. No one he’d asked had seen a farmer carrying two men, one tall, one short, in his cart, and now anyone with a grain of sense had gone indoors for dinner. This was utterly pointless. He could hardly stop at every house and cottage after dark and demand if anyone had his cat. Worse, he had likely ruined Violetta and, whilst he was all for marrying her to get her out of a fix, he very much doubted his luck was about to improve.

“Look there,” Vi said, and Leo turned towards her, seeing her white-gloved hand as a ghostly shape in the rapidly dimming light. “There’s the vicar. Perhaps he might know if there were any such desperate fellows in the neighbourhood, the kind that might ransom a cat.”

“Well, it’s worth a try,” Leo admitted. “Though I don’t know how I’m going to explain you away.”

“Tell him I’m your wife,” Vi said with a shrug.

“You want me to lie to a man of God?” Leo said, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, you were ready enough to do it to an innkeeper,” she replied, tart as ever. “Don’t tell me you’re coming over all principled now.”

“Are you suggesting I’m unprincipled?” he demanded indignantly.

“I don’t know,” she said, putting a finger to her lips and affecting an innocently quizzical expression. “What might have put such a thought in my head?”

Despite himself and the dire nature of their predicament, Leo gave a bark of laughter. “And you had the nerve to say Tilly was a dreadful girl. You are the queen of dreadful girls, Vi. No, the empress. You are far too regal to be a mere queen.”

“Ridiculous man,” Vi said, but without heat.

Leo thought she looked quite pleased by his words. “Come, then, lady wife. Let us tell the poor vicar a tissue of lies that will likely come back to bite us at some point soon.”

“Yes, let's,” Vi said placidly, accepting Leo’s hand and stepping down from the tilbury.

She took his arm and Leo felt a sudden, urgent desire for the ruse to be true. He was worried sick about Mau but comforted himself that any kidnapper with an ounce of sense knew it was in their interest to keep their victim hale and hearty if they wanted their money. The only thing that truly distracted him from his anxiety, however, was Vi’s calm and no-nonsense presence on the seat beside him. Not that he felt calm. Not in the least. Between desperation to have his friend back with him and the tantalising idea that he might really share a bedroom with Vi tonight, he was all on edge. That his plans might be best served by not being entirely a gentleman was one that he was having a good deal of trouble putting to one side.

“Excuse me! I beg your pardon, Reverend?”

Leo brought his unruly musings to a halt and returned his attention to Vi, who was hailing the vicar.

“Good evening, sir, madam. How might I be of service to you?” the vicar asked. He was standing by the door to the church, clearly about to close it and make his way home.

“We’re sorry to trouble you, sir,” Leo said politely. “And I’m afraid you will think it a very odd thing, but we need to ask your advice.”

“Well, I’m rather fond of odd things,” the vicar said with a crooked smile that showed large tombstone teeth in the front. He was a largish man, a little on the portly side, with thinning white hair and glasses and an air of bonhomie that immediately made Leo feel more relaxed. “Not that asking a vicar for advice is such an odd thing,” he added with a chuckle before looking between them with sudden concern.

“Oh, of course, it is a sensible thing indeed to ask your advice,” Vi said hurriedly, clearly anxious about what the man was thinking. “It’s more the nature of the advice that is a little… out of the ordinary.”

The vicar looked intrigued. “Well, how thrilling. Might I invite you to come to the vicarage and take a little sherry with me? I usually have one at this hour. It’s just a few steps away, over the road there.”

“That would be most kind of you,” Leo agreed, wanting nothing more than to find Mau, but the man seemed a good sort and it wouldn’t do to offend him. Moreover, the idea of sitting on a seat that didn’t move for a short while was more than appealing. It had been a warm day, and the night was muggy still. He was hot, sweaty and dusty, and in dire need of a bath and his dinner. Not so long ago, he’d have thought nothing about a race from one end of one county to the other end of another, lasting several days over terrible roads. The idea of such a thing now was in no way tempting.

“Must be getting old,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as they followed the vicar.

“Sorry?” Vi asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing,” he said with a sigh.