Chapter Sixteen

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Lord Carleton returned from his trip to Selby feeling tired and looking forward to his dinner. He was also thinking about Frances. They would play cards again and then, now they were betrothed, he would kiss her. He had been celibate so long that now he could hardly wait. There was no need for a long engagement surely, the thought that Frances would refuse his offer never even entered his head.

He knew the way of things and a young woman in Frances' position would not be so foolish as to refuse an offer of marriage, especially from a man as beforehand with the world as himself. His mind was racing ahead, perhaps she would let him take her in his arms, and he would hold her tightly against him, then run his hands over ... he felt hot just imagining it.

He had his first inkling that all was not well when he rode Diabolo around to the stables.

"Did Mr Francis not find you then?" asked his groom looking a little worried. "He has not returned so I thought he must have caught up with you."

"No, I saw no-one. We must have missed each other," replied Carleton, "Tell me what happened again, Toby."

"He took the roan out for a ride, not long after you left, my lord. He said he would take the road to Selby and might try and meet up with you."

"How long ago?"

"Must be all of three hours now," said the groom.

"Peter is a careful rider, 'tis probably too soon to think of accidents. 'Tis only just starting to get dark now," Carleton thought aloud. "I am sure he will return soon."

He left the stables and went into the house, only slightly anxious.

"Hold dinner until Peter returns, if you would," he told Mrs Madden who had come forward to let him know dinner would be ready in half an hour, to allow him time to change his clothes.

She gave him an odd look, then said flatly, "There is no use waiting my lord, your friend has gone."

"What!" exclaimed Carleton.

"Urgent business in town, my lord," she improvised.

"Nonsense!" Carleton rushed up the stairs to Frances' room. No, he could not believe it. All her things were gone. He stood staring, his brain grappling with the shock. Then he saw the letter on the mantelpiece and strode forward to snatch it up.

"My lord,

Forgive me but I cannot stay any longer. It is time for the masquerade to end. Please do not try to find me.

I wish you well,

F"

What did she mean? Had she not understood he was intending to honour the betrothal? He had been so certain she enjoyed his company and was even coming to feel affection for him. How could she leave him like this?

He turned back to the housekeeper who was watching him silently from the doorway.

"What did he say? Where did he go? Tell me everything!" he demanded.

Mrs Madden pursed her lips in disapproval. "There's no need to continue this charade, my lord. I know the truth. All she told me, was that she had urgent business to attend to in London. She said she would ride to Guildford and leave the horse there for you, then take the stage." Mrs Madden tried not to sound defensive.

"Something must have happened! Did anyone come to the house?" He was so worried about Frances, that the knowledge that Mrs Madden knew her secret scarcely made an impact.

'No, my lord," Mrs Madden stuck to the simple story. She had not thought to invent a tale and probably would have been unable to carry it off successfully if she had.

"She must still be in Guildford, the stage would have already departed by the time she would have reached the inn," Carleton was thinking aloud. "I will have to go after her and bring her back."

"No! Let her go, master Richard," the words were torn out of her. "A woman like that! Think of your reputation, your family!"

"'Tis not your affair, Maddy, stay out of it!" Carleton retorted angrily. He strode though the house to the door. "I don't know when I'll be back, expect me when you see me!" he flung over his shoulder.

Diabolo was soon saddled again and Carleton was off to Guildford as fast as he could ride while there was still enough light to see by. The moon would be up later but he would have to slow down until then, a fall from his horse would help no-one.

An hour later, he rode up to the King's Head and was met by the innkeeper himself, smoothing down his apron and looking questioningly at him.

"My Lord Carleton, is anything the matter? What can I do for you?"

Carleton dismounted and handed the reins to a hovering stable boy, "Just walk him up and down for me will you?" he told him then turned to the innkeeper.

"Evening, Jackson. My business is with a young man I think you have staying here, Peter Francis. Could you take me up to him?"

But the innkeeper was shaking his head, "Got no-one of that name, no young gentleman staying here at all, your lordship."

"He brought my horse in this afternoon, the roan," persisted Carleton.

"Oh him! No, he's long gone, he went off with Mr Lambert in his chaise, here for the fight he was. We have your horse though, all right and tight in the stable. No trouble is there, my lord?" the innkeeper added, suddenly anxious. His lordship had an awfully queer look in his eyes.

Carleton felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. Jack Lambert, again. First Rosamond and now Frances preferred him. He couldn't believe it. Was he so repulsive? Jack so attractive?

He realised the innkeeper was still waiting for his answer and managed to say casually,"No, no trouble, I just hoped to catch him before he left. No matter. I'll ride the roan back now I am here, if you could bring him out? I'll lead Diablo." He gave the innkeeper a generous sum to make up for the inconvenience, refused a glass of wine and was on his way home in a matter of minutes.

What was she thinking? He asked himself. Jack certainly will not offer marriage to her. Does she prefer to be his mistress rather than my wife? He felt sick. His thoughts went round and round in his head as he rode. He felt angry, hurt and offended all at once. But I am not thinking straight, he suddenly realised, as far as Jack is concerned she is a man, Frances has merely accepted a ride from him, that is all. It is still true that she has run away rather than marry me but at least she hasn't run to someone else!

He considered returning to London the next day to find her and demand to know what was happening, but when he woke in the morning after an overcooked dinner and a poor night's sleep, he decided it would be more sensible to stay and finish the business he had arranged and depart in two days time as scheduled. He decided that he needed a period of sober reflection before dashing off in pursuit of her. Perhaps when he saw her again he would offer a carte blanche instead of marriage, he thought, in a fit of pique.


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