of her life, she thought, if only she had enough money to pay her way. Perhaps she could find some work that would be sufficient to pay for her board and lodgings.
She went to the dressing mirror and patted her hair. She did not intend to waste her time moping. She was safe and free of both her husband and the marquis for the moment. Until she could make contact with Hal she must make the most of her circumstances...if only he were still alive.
* * *
It came to Hallam as he was on his way to the club to speak with Jack Mainwaring. The innkeeper had mentioned East Anglia. Madeline had told him something once about her former governess. A Mrs Hattie...what was the woman’s married name? He could not recall it or be certain that Madeline had ever used it in his hearing, but he did know that her husband had a farm somewhere in Cambridgeshire.
He knew most of the farmers in the area reasonably well. Since his mother’s death he had employed a manager to look after the land and the house. He’d been down only a few weeks before Adam’s wedding, wanting to see the house again before deciding whether to sell and pay off his father’s debts, or at least some of them—or to sell what remained of his father’s estate.
Hal’s mother had come from a wealthy country family, and as Hal’s roots were set firmly in a country way of life, he thought he would be satisfied to settle for the life of a well-to-do farmer. His Uncle Philip lived in Norfolk and had a large and fine estate, but while Hallam was in France, he’d learned that his uncle had lost both his wife and daughter to a virulent fever. He had other nephews on his wife’s side, but no surviving children of his own. Hal had written to him concerning his sad loss, but his uncle had not replied, and he’d felt some reluctance to intrude on his grief.
He would go down to Cambridgeshire, Hal decided. If Thomas Hobbis came looking for him, he would leave his direction, and in the meantime he would employ an agent to help him search for Madeline.
She must be somewhere and in her position she would most likely seek refuge with someone she trusted. Mrs Hattie... If only she’d told him her former governess’s married name!
Hal’s determination hardened. He would not sit in London twiddling his thumbs, but go down to Cambridgeshire and ask a few people he was acquainted with if they had heard of the lady. At least he knew that her name had been Miss Hester Goodjohn before she was wed. Someone would surely know of her.
On his way to his mother’s estate, he would take a detour and speak to Madeline’s father. It was time that he was made aware of what an evil man his former son-in-law had been.
* * *
‘I should return the chaise,’ Thomas said when they had been living at the farm for three days. ‘My brother may have need of it—and he may have news for us by now.’
‘You will go again to Major Ravenscar’s lodgings?’
‘Yes, of course, my lady,’ Thomas said. ‘I shall discover what I can and return as soon as is humanly possible.’
‘We shall miss you,’ Sally said. ‘You will not be too long, Thomas?’
‘Never fear, I shall not desert you,’ he said. ‘When I return I shall look for an inn I may purchase, where we may all live in comfort, if my lady will deign to come with us.’
‘I cannot leave her while she needs me,’ Sally said, though a look of longing was in her eyes.
Thomas reached for her hand and held it. ‘Her ladyship does well enough here, but I pray that when I return I shall have news that will bring her much happiness—and then she will not need you so much.’
Sally watched as he mounted his horse and rode away, then went back to the large kitchen. She noticed the muddy footprints on the floor she’d scrubbed that morning and sighed, thinking that life in a farmhouse would not suit her for long. Despite Hattie’s kindness, Sally would feel happier in a nice little inn with the man she loved—but she could not and would not desert her mistress.
‘Had I known what kind of a man Lethbridge was I should not have allowed the marriage,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘I would rather have faced ruin than had my poor daughter suffer such cruelty.’
‘You could not have known to what depths he would sink,’ Hallam said as he prepared to take his leave. ‘You say that you believe Maddie’s former governess to live in Cambridgeshire on a farm, but you do not know her married name?’
‘Forgive me, I would tell you if I could. I should have paid more attention, but I had much on my mind at the time,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘We must find Madeline, for now that Lethbridge is dead she is entitled to her endowment and the money her grandfather left her—and certainly her jewels and clothes belong to her. Alone and with no money, I dread to think what may become of her.’
‘She is not entirely alone for she has friends,’ Hallam said. His expression did not alter, but he detected a degree of enthusiasm in Sir Matthew at the thought of the money his daughter might inherit, and fought to keep any sign of censure from his tone as he said, ‘It is my intention to find her, sir. I shall not cease to look until I find her.’
‘And you will let me know when you do?’
Hallam inclined his head, but made no promises for he must consult Maddie’s wishes before giving her father that information. She’d been married once against her will and he did not quite trust her father. He was a selfish man, who had used his daughter ill once and might seek to use her to build up his own fortune given the chance.
After taking his farewell, Hallam set off for his mother’s estate in Cambridgeshire. At least he had some idea of where Maddie might have gone, though he was still in ignorance of her exact location. However, there were one or two farmers he knew well enough to exchange words with, as he rode about the countryside, and surely one of them could tell him something.
* * *
‘What have you learned?’ the marquis demanded from his henchman. He’d had the inn by the river watched since he’d first discovered where that interfering footman had taken Madeline and her maid, also Hallam Ravenscar’s lodgings, and now it had paid off. ‘Tell me, sirrah! Damnation! Am I served by imbeciles? Have you lost your tongue?’
‘I kept watch on the inn as you told me, my lord,’ the man said, watching his master warily. The marquis’s temper was violent when he was thwarted. ‘I saw the footman you wished to speak with and followed him to the lodgings of Major Ravenscar...’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He returned to the inn where he lodged for the night.’ Seeing the fury in the marquis’s eyes, he said quickly, ‘He left word for the major, sir—the lady is fled to Cambridgeshire, to a farm.’
‘You know the name of the farm—or the people she fled to?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the man said with a gleam of triumph in his face. ‘I stood beneath the open window and heard the footman give the landlady an address—the farm belongs to a Mr Jenkins and it is called Buttercup Farm. It is situated some ten miles beyond the small village of Fenstanton in Cambridgeshire.’
‘My God! I shall have her yet,’ the marquis cried,
