“He must be mistaken,” Michael said automatically. “At this time of night? I just saw Miss Aincourt a little over an hour ago, and she was going up to bed.”
“I asked him, sir, and he swore up and down that it was the lady herself. He was taken aback to see her, he said, so he moved a little closer. He…” The groom hesitated, then went on in a rush. “He saw that she was talkin’ to a man.”
Michael went suddenly cold. His fingers curled into his palms. “Go on,” he said, amazed at how even his voice sounded.
“Dougie thought it was you at first, so he was goin’ to turn and leave, only a horse whinnied. He looked an’ seen there was a bay tied to one of the trees, kind of back in the shadow. Now Dougie knows horses, and this wasn’t one of ours, so he—he didn’t know what to do, sir. He was thinkin’ he shouldn’t leave Miss Aincourt out there alone, an’ he reckoned the man was a stranger, ’cause of the horse. So he stayed, watching, tryin’ to decide. And then, well, the man led his horse out, an’ Dougie saw his face. It was no one he’d ever seen afore, he said. An’ he—he helped Miss Aincourt onto the horse and mounted it after her, an’ they—they rode off.”
The groom studiously examined the flagstone walkway beneath his feet. Michael felt as if someone had just knocked the wind out of him. He remembered suddenly the look on Rachel’s face after he kissed her—surprise, he’d thought, then wondered if it had been fear. Had the force of his passion scared her into running from him? Then he remembered that she had seemed a little odd all evening.
He took a breath and tried to clear the confusion from his head. “He is certain?”
“He swears it is what he saw. I wouldn’t have bothered you if it had been some of the other lads. But Dougie…well, I’ve never known him to lie or even exaggerate. I asked him over and over, an’ he insisted he hadn’t been mistaken. There was no smell of gin on his breath. I didn’t know what to do, sir, but finally I decided I had to tell you and let you decide, you know….” His voice trailed off miserably.
“I will look into it straightaway,” Michael assured him grimly. “I needn’t tell you—”
“No one else heard it, and they won’t. I already swore Dougie to silence. He knows he’ll be turned off without a reference if he breathes a word of it to anyone else, including the other lads.”
“Thank you, Tanner.”
He went back into the house, feeling strangely numb, and knocked on Lord Ravenscar’s door. Ravenscar came to the door, glowering, with his nightcap on his balding head and a dressing gown flung hastily around his shoulders.
In a low voice, Michael explained what he had learned. Ravenscar stared back at him blankly for a long moment, then his cheeks flushed red. “What? What are you saying?” he barked. “Do you dare to imply that—”
“I am not implying anything,” Michael responded coolly. “I am just asking if Lady Ravenscar might step into Miss Aincourt’s room and see if she is in her bed.”
Ravenscar looked as if he would have liked to shut the door in Michael’s face, but after a moment he turned away, and Michael heard him talking to his wife. Michael stepped a few feet away and waited. A few moments later Lady Ravenscar rushed out of the room, a dressing gown wrapped around her, the ribbons of her nightcap fluttering as she rushed down the hall. Michael caught only a glimpse of her face, but he saw that it was white and taut with fear. He was suddenly sure that she knew something her husband did not.
Lord Ravenscar went down the hall after her at a more stately pace. Before he reached the door, his wife stepped back out into the hall. If possible, her face was even paler than before. She looked at her husband, then at Michael, fumbling for words. Impatiently, Ravenscar shoved past her into the room. Michael strode down the hall to Rachel’s mother and took her arm to steady her. She looked as if she were about to faint.
“She’s gone, then?” he asked in a low voice.
Lady Ravenscar nodded dumbly, tears pooling in her eyes. She raised her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t know what he will say.” She cast an anxious glance behind her toward the room into which her husband had gone.
Michael steered her into Rachel’s room and closed the door behind him, guiding Lady Ravenscar to a chair. Ravenscar stood in the middle of the room, shock turning to rage on his face.
“Are any of her things gone?” Michael asked quickly, forestalling the imminent explosion from Ravenscar.
Lady Ravenscar shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Her vanity set is still there.” She gestured toward the dresser, where a silver-backed set of brush, mirror and comb lay.
Michael glanced around the room. The bed had been turned down, the fire banked. A woman’s white nightdress and dressing gown were tossed onto the bed. She had dressed for bed, he surmised—no doubt because of the presence of her maid—then had discarded the nightclothes and redressed, slipping out into the night. There was no sign of a letter on the bed or anywhere else. He wondered if she had gone out wothout intending to leave the estate, or if she had left her things behind to conceal what she had done for a while longer.
“Do you have any idea who he is?” Michael asked Lady Ravenscar.
“Of course not!” Ravenscar snapped.
Michael noticed that Lady Ravenscar cast a furtive glance at her husband but said nothing. He turned to Lord Ravenscar. “They have not been gone long, and Dougie said they were riding double. It is quite likely that we can catch up with them if we leave quickly. I will send down to the groom to saddle two horses if you want to accompany me.”
Ravenscar, still looking as if he might fly into a rage at any moment, nodded his head shortly. “I’ll get dressed.”
He strode out of the room. Lady Ravenscar started to follow, but Michael laid a hand on her arm. “Do you know his name, my lady?”
Rachel’s mother cast him an agonized glance. “I—I’m not sure. There was a man—the silly girl thought she had developed a tendre for someone. But I made sure he was not admitted to our house any longer and that she was never alone. She hasn’t seen him in four months, I would swear it. I thought she had forgotten him.”
“What is his name?” He had to know, though it cost him some pride to ask.
“Anthony Birkshaw.”
“Birkshaw.” Michael cast around in his mind for a face to go with the name. He faintly remembered a darkly handsome young man among the flock who had hung around Rachel before her engagement. “She loved him when she accepted my proposal?”
“Love? The chit doesn’t know what love is!” Lady Ravenscar retorted contemptuously. “She was flattered, and he was a presentable young man. I explained to her that it was impossible. She knew where her duty lay. I cannot imagine what can have possessed her to throw away her future like this.”
Her duty. The words lay like lead in his chest. He was the duty her family had laid upon her. He had known she did not love him, but there had been hope. But the knowledge that she loved another, that she had fled from Michael at the last moment, unable to bear the thought of wedding him, cut through him like a knife.
There was a part of him that wanted in that moment to simply go back to his room and shut the door, to let her go to her love, to simply wrap himself around with his misery and let Ravenscar answer the storm of questions from the guests.
But he knew that he could not. He had seen the light of fury in Ravenscar’s eyes. He could not allow him to catch up to Rachel alone. Besides, her reputation would be damaged beyond repair if word of what she had done this night got out. The scandal would stain his name, as well, of course, but he was the injured party, after all,