Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

The sound of earth filling a grave reverberated dully in her ears. It was a sound she never enjoyed. She glanced beyond the graves to the distant forest and shuddered. This place was one reason she disliked the sight of gardens. Down beneath the prettiness of green and colored flowers was where the dead went at the end of days.

“Rosemary?” Mrs. Lamb remained silent as she studied her and then her eyes lit up. “If I remember correctly, there was a search undertaken for a girl a day after these bodies were brought for burial. I thought it rather odd, in fact, that the murderers were never pursued but a slip of a girl was. A considerable reward was offered for Rosemary’s capture, but they never found her. We must write to say she’s been discovered. We’d given up hope, but come. The vicar will know all about you.”

“I’m not Rosemary.” Hope for the girl Rosemary was certainly lost. She hugged her shawl tighter about her body and steeled herself to lie again. “I am simply recalling what a woman I met told me of the murders, but that was years ago. I’ve no idea where she is now or if she is even still alive.”

The woman deflated somewhat. “Well, that’s a spot of bad luck. I’d so hoped to solve the riddle. Randall, Randall. Are you sure about that? Lord Grayling’s sister married into that family.”

“Yes, so he told me yesterday.” Rosemary spread her hands wide and held her ground, breathless with hope that her lies would be believed. “I’m sorry I cannot be of more help.”

Mrs. Lamb shrugged and then her eyes sharpened on Rosemary’s sodden clothing. When she had left the inn, Mrs. Lamb had still thought her ailing. “You’re soaked right through. Oh, dear heavens. His Lordship will be furious with me. He left me with such a lot of instructions for your care. You must be a very good governess.”

Mrs. Lamb hurried forward with an umbrella and attempted to shield her from further rain. “Come with me now, and let’s get you back to bed where you belong.”

She nodded but her soul was bleak. Rosemary belonged nowhere now save in memory. Her possessions at the inn were all she had left. She would need to reclaim them before she could plan ahead. Rosemary turned back to the graves one last time. The woman known as Meredith C

lark would be gone long before tomorrow ever dawned. “Can you tell me when the mail coach will come next?”

“Tomorrow.” Mrs. Lamb hurried her along. “But it doesn’t run toward Romsey. Not from here, anyway.”

Rosemary lifted her chin. “I’m not going to Romsey. I’m going anywhere else.”

Mrs. Lamb spluttered. “Not going to Romsey? I cannot imagine His Lordship will be pleased to hear he’s lost a servant after spending a pretty penny to keep you in comfort.”

Tonight Rosemary would choose her new name, destroy anything bearing the name Miss Clark, and begin again as another woman without a past. No one would know that Rosemary Randall had walked the streets of this small village. If the stage came early, it would take her as far away as she could run. Somewhere she could become lost again.

Feet squelching with each step, she retraced her steps to the inn and let herself into her room. The emptiness battered her senses, the absence of Constantine and his sweet daughters was like the misplacement of a treasured object.

But Constantine was for Romsey. Brother of the duchess, uncle of the duke. A family she could never go near, despite the lies she’d read in the papers and heard tumble from his lips. Constantine was part of the great deception. Honey-coated poison. She couldn’t trust him. If there was any truth in it, he would have attended his sister’s wedding. He would have gone to protest the union in person.

But he’d stayed and shown his true colors. Not that she’d minded at the time. She would not lie to herself that he’d imposed on her in any way. Their time together had been all that she’d once dreamed for herself. A meeting of the mind and the body. A memory she would carry with her forever. For a brief, shining moment, she had felt she belonged before plunging back into the unknown. She’d almost felt safe enough to consider telling the truth. But if she had bothered with names and connections she would never have spent one night with Constantine in the first place.

He stood with the enemy.

She moved closer to the fire as she undressed, removing her wet things. Her hands shook so badly it took time to undo the first button. The rain had soaked her to the bone and she sniffed as her nose began to drip. The carriage dress Constantine had purchased was sodden and dirty, much like its owner. She spread the gown over a chair, knowing full well it would never be clean or dry in time for her departure in the morning.

There was nothing now to do besides choose a new name with which to introduce herself, catching what sleep she could. Weary to the bone, Rosemary crawled onto the mattress and pulled the bedding up to her chin. When she was safely away from here, she could think about what she’d lost. And mourn all over again. Calista, Meredith Clark, and the doomed love she had discovered, died tonight.

CHAPTER 24

CONSTANTINE HURRIED DOWN the main staircase of Romsey Abbey after saying goodnight to his daughters. He tried to ignore his bad mood. Since he’d arrived, he’d been scolded like a three-year-old boy with jam on his face, accused of coldness at dinner, and been questioned about the reasons for his daughters’ low spirits. It wasn’t his fault his governess had to be left behind and her absence had affected his tolerance of sisterly meddling.

He reached the bottom step and flexed his fingers.

It was time to lay down the law to this Randall fellow. His sister may have remarried a wealthy man, but he was a stranger to society. No one claimed to have had seen or met Leopold Randall prior to his sudden return some months ago. An unknown element would not be allowed free with the Romsey fortune and estates. He was here now and would examine what had been done and not done.

According to the servants, Randall ended his day in the ducal study and didn’t leave it till close to midnight. He was sure to be there now, and Constantine was eager to establish some limitations. The first was that he was still the boy’s guardian and would make all decisions for his upbringing. He would have final say on the boy’s life and the estate finances. He wasn’t about to let his sister’s new husband rob the young duke out of his inheritance.

He pushed open the door without knocking. “Randall, we need to talk.”

The fellow’s head appeared from behind the desk and then Randall rolled to his feet from the floor, brushing off his trousers. “How may I help you, my lord?”

“Let me make one thing clear.”

“Oh?”

Constantine stopped before the neat desk and scowled. “Romsey belongs to Edwin. Everything and everyone living here is his responsibility. Not yours. Don’t imagine for a moment that I won’t be watching over him.”

“Then he’s a fortunate boy to have an uncle who treasures him.” Romsey looked down and smiled at his feet. “That’s very good, Your Grace. Now, where do your horses like to run?”