Page 127 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Chapter 38

Connor headed toward Tarrington House and Meg. She might refuse to see him or simply punch him in the face again. But he would persist. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he refused to let her out of his life so easily. Wearing the same suit he’d worn to meet with his father, Connor presented arrived at the Amesbury’s home. As he climbed the front stairs, he slowed his steps. The knocker was gone.

Had they all left? Where had she gone?

He had tracked her down once; he’d do it again. He hammered on the door, waited, hammered again.

Finally, an old woman opened the door. “Sorry, sir, the family are not presently in residence.”

He was too late! “Lady Margaret?” he said hoarsely.

“She and Lady Rachel departed here not half an hour ago.”

“For where? Their country house? Dover?”

“Er, no, sir. They went to the docks.”

Connor impatience grew. “The docks? Why?”

“To set sail on Master Jared’s yacht.”

After pulling enough information out of the old woman, Connor raced down the street and headed for the docks. A hackney rolled by, but Connor knew of alleys too narrow for a coach that would get him there faster. Breathless and anxious, he grappled with fears that he had arrived too late. Determined, Connor darted along the river searching for a yacht amid the usual cargo vessels that nodded in the water.

Where was she?

He trotted along, looking over each watercraft. Was it possible they had docked on the other side of the Thames?

There. A shiny new yacht stood out among the weather-beaten cargo ships. On the deck, a familiar figure stood looking over the water. He sucked in his breath. How had his memory failed to duplicate her loveliness?

He raced toward it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little urchin scurrying through the dockworkers loading crates, but he stayed focused on Meg. How had he ever thought he could let her go? What a fool he had been! As he neared, a gangplank came into view.

He charged up it and slowed his pace as he stepped on board. “Meg.”

She stiffened, then turned. Their eyes met. For an instant, some emotion he could not name spread over her face, then it was gone beneath a cool veneer. She’d transformed into the controlled Lady Margaret, who never let emotions show. Other figures moved outside his periphery, but he paid them no heed.

He took another step forward and offered her a wobbly smile. “Good morning.” It was a poor greeting, but all the words tripping over themselves in his mind didn’t seem to come out in any coherent form. “I was worried I’d missed you.”

She only stared at him.

“Actually, I have missed you,” Connor confessed. Softly, he added, “Very much.”

Something shifted in her eyes.

A little figure scampered up the gangplank and halted before coming onto the deck. “If’n you please, sir….” gasped a child’s voice.

Connor turned to the little one. His ragged little waif who’d never given him her name watched him, her eyes lit with more life than he’d seen in weeks.

He glanced at Meg to gauge her reaction. She watched the child with curiosity, without any of the disdain so many ladies of her class often held for street urchins.

As was his custom, Connor crouched down and motioned his little waif forward. “What is it, dove?”

She remained where she was as if not daring to step foot on such a rich man’s property, but she called out with an actual voice and not the whisper she normally used. “I seen ’em!”

Connor jerked back. “You saw the gentry couple I’m looking for?”

She nodded. “They’s gettin’ on a ship over yon. I show ya.”

Torn, he glanced back at Meg.