𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

Chapter 9

"When was this, Lady Beresford? Did Lady Embry reveal a timeline? perhaps a date or a month?" Oscar probed. 

"It was six months ago," she answered on cue, a response that was both confident in it's truth. 

Jack and Oscar exchanged determined looks, as Acacia Beresford glanced between them. "He's taken Aramina to Portsmouth, hasn't he?" She asked, her voice cracking at the ends, her composure giving way. 

"He is not in Southampton," Jack spoke, his gaze burning into the tapestry on the opposite wall. He had set out at first light, he had employed use of his connections and he had had searches conducted discreetly, there was no sign of his cousin or her abductor. 

"Oh God," Lady Beresford removed her hand from her husband's hold and brought it to her face, spinning on her heel and walking to the nearest window, her pained gaze locking outside in the snow filled land of the Wycombe grounds so as to not burden it on her husband or on Oscar. 

"So we search in Portsmouth," Oscar broke the silence firmly. "We make haste before the rascal escapes from there as well, because we have no information of his intentions." 

"Then we get the information first," Jack bared his teeth, "We know the statistics and then we arrive on the exact spot and take my cousin. I will not rush to Portsmouth with no strategy but to search the entire county in vain only to give the bastard enough time to pack Aramina in a carriage and escape behind our backs." 

Try as he might, Oscar could not help but agree, because his friend's way seemed the logical one to him too. "And so we're back to pressing those men for information." 

"We are," Jack let out, "We'll pay them another visit tonight." He got up, rubbing his palms together, made his way to his wife, wrapping a comforting arm around her back as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He bent his head to hers, lower until—

Oscar averted his gaze and straightened himself, the tense feeling of intruding on a private moment overtook him. A feeling that took him spinning to the time when he had been minding his own business in the parlour at Mansfield estate and his elder sister, Lady Rebecca Ashbrook, had tumbled in alongside her husband, mistaking Oscar and his brown coat for wallpaper. The memory tossing up his composure like a bin, he cleared his throat loudly. 

"I-uh, was hoping to introduce you to—," He broke off, not sure what word to use in this hasty sentence. Was she a guest? or an actor? how do you introduce someone who was, in all technicality, both of the above? "To the rector's daughter," Oscar blurted out, already regretting his choice of words. His sentence made it seem that he had corresponded with the lady in question so often that it had morphed into something normal for him, an illusion he would rather die than give. 

"Ah," An amused twinkle glinted in Jack Beresford's eyes as he turned to face his friend. Knowing his friend and the irregularities that plagued his life, Jack was all but versed, "The infamous lady who—" 

"Is to be the decoy," Oscar added in quickly, and the twinkle in Jack's eyes was immediately replaced by a hard expression. Sceptical and wary, it had taken convincing for Lord Beresford to allow the blasphemy of having someone else play pretend at upholding the position of his cousin while her own life was in peril. Miss Churchill would doubtless receive judgement from his side, and Oscar was fully prepared for his friend's contempt for no one else in his place would react any differently. 

And Miss Churchill was only a decoy. Bearing disturbances the likes of those was part of her job. 

"Pray don't use that word, Oscar," Lady Beresford, "Sounds too harsh." 

Oscar almost snorted. That, was actually the perfect word to use for the idea of Jessie Churchill being in his life more than he would've liked at the moment. That word was comforting, the idea of it being fleeting, nothing permanent, one minute there and the other minute not. Invisible, not quite there. So, in conclusion, he'd use the word as often as he'd prefer.