Page 108 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Chapter 31

Despite the number of places where her body ached, Margaret had managed, barely, to walk downstairs unassisted. Now, she reclined on a comfortable sofa in the morning parlor. Nearby sat Christian and Genevieve, Christian sketching and Genevieve sewing an intricate design on a handkerchief.

Connor hadn’t come to tell her what had happened last night. The not-knowing was driving her mad. Reliving their toe-curling kisses yesterday had helped. Each memory had a remarkable healing effect on her. She looked back down at the book she’d been pretending to read.

The butler cleared his throat. “Mr. Jackson, milady.”

At last! Carefully, Margaret sat up, every part of her lighting up. Surely beams shot out of her toes. “Show him in.”

Connor stepped in. Bruised and swollen, he looked even worse than she remembered from last night. And a bulge on one arm hinted at a bandage under his coat.

Seeing him so battered smote her through to her heart. “Good heavens. What happened to you?”

Everything from his shielded expression, the avoidance of eye contact, and his overly stiff posture proclaimed that something was very wrong.

“What is it?” She braced herself.

He let out a sound of disgust. “He got away.”

Christian paled. “Finch?”

Connor let out another disgusted sound. “The servants said he and his wife packed their bags and left last evening. They took a single carriage, sacked most of their staff, and left no word of where they were going.”

Christian narrowed his eyes in thought. “What is being done?”

“Birnie assigned dozens of constables to begin the search, but the Finches might have headed for Scotland or taken a packet to Calais or to Ireland or any number of places. They might be holed up in an inn somewhere in town and plan to leave at a later time. The truth is, there are too many possible routes and times, and we don’t have the manpower to watch all of them indefinitely.”

Margaret said, “But you found me; surely—”

“I found you because witnesses remembered you, so I had a trail to follow. No one we’ve questioned recalls seeing a black, unmarked carriage. We can continue to question people in that area but”—he made a helpless gesture—“it seems they made their escape. For now.” He paced back and forth, then glanced at her. “Don’t fret. We haven’t entirely given up.”

“I have faith in you.” Margaret let the tenderness in her heart for him show in her expression.

But he had resumed his pacing and didn’t see it.

“Won’t you please sit?” she asked.

Finally, he took a chair and looked steadily at Margaret. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but no real damage.” She smiled tentatively. “How are you?”

Unusually shielded, he glanced away as if he couldn’t quite look her in the eye. “I was fortunate. Have you seen Grant?”

“Not yet; he hadn’t returned by the time I went to bed, and he hasn’t arisen yet.”

He nodded. “I owe him. Again. If he hadn’t been with me, the trap Finch left for me would have been fatal.”

Genevieve gasped.

Christian said, “Trap?”

Cold horror tightened into a knot in Margaret’s middle section. She was truly starting to dislike the danger that came with his profession. “What happened?”

Grimly, he said, “We went to Finch’s house and found it empty, except for a handful of bully boys waiting to ambush.”

Oh heavens, that was twice in one night someone had tried to kill him, and he had clearly taken a beating. Her heart might not be able to bear much more of that. She reached for his hand. “I’m so grateful you weren’t seriously injured.”

He pulled away. “I’m sorry I failed to catch him, but I’ll keep trying, I vow it.” Restless, he stood and started pacing again.