Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Fourteen

"Wait a moment," Maddox said. "You haven't that sort of control over Lady Julia's life, no matter who you might represent. She must have the choice whether to return or not. I'm quite convinced of it." Piero just stared, agreeing to nothing.

Stocke spoke up. "No one will be abducting Lady Athol—Lady, er, Julia. We simply must speak with her, as we are speaking with you: as quickly as possible. You really both must return. Maddox, you may stay or go, but I must think there will be questions about how they removed from England. Your testimony might be needed."

"This is quite inconvenient," Maddox complained. "I've just agreed to several more events with Miss Kilbrierry, and I had decided to stay here for the summer. Lady Julia has just taken a job, and Gills is on the verge of it."

"What?" Piero exclaimed. "Lady Julia has taken a job? Doing what?"

"Lady's companion to a famed violinist. It is quite a prestigious position, as these things go."

Stocke's eyes goggled. "Lady Athol Soddenfeld is working as a lady's companion. And Lord Joseph? You are about to take a position? Have you turned American? What are your career plans, pray tell?"

"It's nothing. No decisions have been made. Let us return to the subject of our legal situation."

"I'm afraid we do not know much," Stocke said, "as the crowd of us at Toadstone Hall split up to advance your cause separately. Gills, your brother and Lady Julia's father went to London to understand the legal options and engage what legal help you need. Your brother said to assure you he would release your trust upon his arrival. I am to provide you funds for your immediate needs and travel. The same for Lady Julia at the expense of the Wellbridges."

"There are many people working on your behalf in England," said Piero. "I expect letters may find us here shortly with more information, but our mandate is to bring you home without delay."

"I'm afraid there will be a delay, gentlemen," Maddox explained without apology. "We all have plans in the works here in New York for a time. We can blame it on bad weather or my intransigence or anything else you like, but it will be at least a few weeks before we can leave New York, if not longer. For my part, I have commitments through the end of the month."

"I do not think Lady Julia will agree to leave at all," Gills repeated. "I do not believe she ever intends to return to England. I do not think the threat of banishment will get you the result you want."

"Would you suggest an alternative, Lord Joseph?" Stocke asked.

"I would suggest," Maddox pronounced, "you leave Lady Julia alone. She is happy where she is and has found a real sense of purpose. It is quite admirable, really. Supply her with funds of her own, so she needn't work unless she wishes it, but let her find her way in America as Julia Marloughe. It is the kindest thing you can do. You know she is beyond ruined in England, even if she were smart enough to accept Gills' proposal, which she does not seem to be—oh, Gills, my apologies."

Stocke and Piero both seemed knocked speechless by that piece of news.

Gills shrugged. "She a stubborn thing. I wish she'd let me help her more."

"Lady Julia is quite admirably rising to meet the circumstance in which she finds herself. I am not sure I would be doing as well, and there is no question in my mind, Gills, you have given her as much help as anyone can." Maddox punctuated his thought with a sharp nod. "No one can say you haven't given your all to Lady Julia."

"Not quite all, no."

"This is quite extraordinary," Stocke said. "To think, Lady Athol Soddenfled with a smitten suitor. Extraordinary."

Gills sat up straighter. "I'll not hear you malign her."

"Wouldn't think of it, old man. Shame she wouldn't take your name. Would solve a lot of problems, that. When you are back in England, I imagine the duke and duchess will set her straight."

"There will be none of that. Set her straight, indeed. Lady Julia knows her mind and she's entitled to choose the man she will marry, whether or not he is me. She is entitled to choose everything about her life, and I will be the first to ensure it. To that end, I shall not tell you how to find her—" with a glance at Maddox he added, "—nor will Maddox—until we are convinced you mean her no harm."

***

It took Piero no more than three hours to find Julia's residence, after leaving Stocke at the hotel with instructions to write everyone concerned and let them know the state of things. This was, in part, because his first stop had been the office of a Wakefield private investigator based in New York. He had a letter of introduction from the man's eldest brother and the founder of the entire firm.

It had taken Geoffrey Wakefield an hour to discover Julia's hotel, which she had abandoned, and another hour to find her boardinghouse, where he left Piero to introduce himself, so he could continue investigating.

But Piero found himself stymied by a small red-haired woman and a mountain of a man guarding the stairs.

"No gen'l'min upstairs, Sir," the giant growled when Piero tried to find his way to room six.

"Mrs. Marloughe is not at home, Sir. If you'd like to leave a card..."

If Piero left a card, there was a chance she'd run, if Lord Joseph was right. He recalled the charm that had shattered the defenses of countless women before he had fallen in love and married the Duke of Wellbridge's sister. "Mrs. O'Neal, you misunderstand my intent. I merely need a word with Mrs. Marloughe in private. I am a happily married man, emissary of her cousin, the Duke of Wellbridge."

If anything, the small woman gained size at that piece of information. "In private, is it, with a married man? There will be no funny business in my parlor, duke or no, and that's the only place you'll be allowed. With a chaperone and the door open, if you please; this is a respectable house. And in any case, Mrs. Marloughe is not at home."

"Can you tell me when I might find her here?"

"Can't tell you anything about Mrs. Marloughe, Sir. If you'd like to leave a card?"

Piero bowed his way out without leaving a card. Clearly, he'd taken the wrong tack. He should have had Wakefield trace her place of employment first. Companion to a famed musician, who would, perforce, be a woman. It shouldn't be difficult at all to identify a famed female violinist in New York. Wakefield probably already had. If Piero were lucky, she would have a performance scheduled this very evening and he could find his way backstage. If worse came to worst, tomorrow morning before dawn, he would establish himself within sight of the boardinghouse, waiting until he saw her coming or going.