If the Viscount Falls (9 page)

Mrs. Patch darted an anxious look from Jane to him and back. “Honestly, I don't know where Nancy is. But she certainly didn't come here. When she visits me, she always sends a note ahead. She knows I do not . . . like surprises of any kind.”

“But this time she refrained from informing you?” Jane asked.

“Exactly!” Her high-pitched tone betrayed her alarm. “That's why I don't understand why she would claim to be traveling to Bath with
me
. She knows I don't leave my house.”

“Not at all?” Dom asked. When she started, he added in a softer tone, “You never leave? Not even to go to the market?”

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Patch said. “It's a dangerous world for a lady. Criminals run rampant through the streets. And so many people crowd York these days, pushing up against one and making one nervous, taking all the air out of rooms . . .”

Just talking about it seemed to panic her, for she began to tremble and breathe heavily again. As Jane urged more cordial on her, Dom knelt to pet the eager Nell. As he'd hoped, just seeing him with her dogs and not looming over her helped to calm Mrs. Patch.

Only when he was sure the lady was no longer upset did he continue his questions. “So, if I am to understand you correctly, when Nancy came to visit you, the two of you did not go shopping.”

She recoiled. “Oh no! Certainly not. It was one thing when my dear Mr. Patch was alive, but go out with just Nancy and our maids? Only think what could happen to us!”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “So Nancy just stayed here to keep you company? Or did she go shopping alone?”

“Not alone, no. I'd
never
stand for that. She came to take tea with me, and then she and Meredith would
shop. I always tried to dissuade her, pointing out the sure dangers of pickpockets and ruffians, but she would only laugh.” She wrung her hands. “My poor girl was too brave for her own good. And now look at her, gone missing! Whatever shall I tell her father?”

“You must leave that to us,” Jane said. “But first let us attempt to find her. Perhaps you're right, and she did go visit another relation or a friend.”

But her eyes were on him, and they mirrored his thoughts. If Nancy had come to York and spent a part of the day with just Meredith—who'd conveniently gone off to join her brother in London sometime after George's death—then Nancy
could
have been up to something. Mrs. Patch wouldn't have needed to be privy to it.

His legs were starting to cramp in his kneeling position, so he rose. “Tell me, Mrs. Patch. Do you know of any friends Nancy might have had in York? Did she ever mention any with whom we could speak?”

A tiny frown marred her brow. “No, I don't believe so. And I am the only one of her relations who lives here.”

Jane avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this discussion was going. But he
had
warned her.

“To your knowledge,” he went on, “has she ever come to visit you by mail coach?”

“I should hope not!” Mrs. Patch said stoutly. “Only think of the foul air in such a close place. And all those dirty people and their dirty hands; why, it would not do! Not at all.”

Yet, according to the servants at the estate, Nancy
had
left for York by mail coach. Perhaps it was time they moved on to Ringrose's Inn to ask their questions. Clearly, Mrs. Patch wasn't going to be much more help.

Unless . . .

“My dear lady,” he said, “I have to go, but perhaps while I am asking questions about town, Miss Vernon might stay here with you? I hate to drag her about with me when there's no need.”

Jane opened her mouth as if to protest, then shut it. He could see the exact moment when it dawned on her that she and Mrs. Patch could discuss their secret concerns if he weren't around.

And that was what he wanted. If they hashed it out together, he'd more easily be able to get the story out of Jane later. She would keep stubbornly silent as long as she wasn't sure of Mrs. Patch's part of the story.

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Patch said with profound relief. “I'd be delighted to entertain Miss Vernon for the afternoon while your lordship is in town.”

“We have to return before dark,” he said, “so it won't be very long.”

“Take all the time you need.” Mrs. Patch patted Jane's hand. “I'm sure Miss Vernon and I have a great deal to talk about.”

He was counting on it. One way or the other, he meant to get the truth out of Jane eventually. Because there was definitely more to this than met the eye.

4

T
HE MOMENT
D
OM
was gone, Mrs. Patch sent her maid off for tea, then seized Jane's hand. “Is his lordship aware that Nancy is with child?”

Jane's heart sank. So Mrs. Patch knew. That meant it wasn't quite the secret Nancy had made it out to be. “Nancy told you for certain that she was breeding?”

“No, she merely said she was hopeful of it.” Mrs. Patch looked first one way, then the other, as if watching for spies, before lowering her voice. “She said there were signs. That she hadn't had her . . . you know . . . in some time. Did she say as much to you?”

“All she said was that she
might
be with child.”

In the three months since George's death, Nancy hadn't once had her menses, and she'd been feeling other effects—nausea, a violent urge to cry, a tenderness in her breasts.

Unfortunately, that didn't necessarily mean it would continue. “But she also said that given her past experiences, she dared not get her hopes up.”

They sighed together. Nancy had already miscarried thrice; it was possible she would do so again.

“Still, this time the child
could
take root,” Mrs. Patch said brightly.

“Yes.” And if that happened, it was going to be quite a problem. For everyone.

“So his lordship has no idea that she is breeding?” Mrs. Patch asked.

“No. I certainly didn't tell him.”

“Oh, thank heavens! That's one thing we needn't worry about then.”

Jane stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if he doesn't know, he can't take steps to . . . prevent it.”

“Like
what
?” Jane exploded. “I assure you that Lord Rathmoor wouldn't lay a finger on Nancy, no matter what the possible outcome of her pregnancy!”

Mrs. Patch flinched, clearly unnerved by Jane's vitriol. “I-I'm only saying that he would have good reason for alarm. If Nancy bears George's son in six months' time, Lord Rathmoor will no longer be the heir presumptive. He won't be able to inherit the title or the lands, and he'll go back to being plain Mr. Manton. So he
might
 . . . I mean, I have to wonder, with Nancy missing and all . . .”

Jane drew herself up stiffly. “I beg your pardon, madam, but you clearly do not know his lordship if you think he would ever harm a woman.
Any
woman. And certainly he'd never do anything criminal to gain an inheritance!”

A flush spread over Mrs. Patch's cheeks. “But Nancy said that he and his bastard brother were the ones who murdered George.”

“After George tried to kill
them,
” Jane snapped. “They were defending themselves. Did she say that, too?”

“Well . . . yes, but I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Jane said sharply.

Mrs. Patch dropped her gaze to her hands, which were now fluttering wildly. “Oh, dear, I've insulted you. I'm so sorry! It's just that I'm worried about Nancy. But I-I didn't mean to . . . I should not have . . .”

Her breathing sped up as before, and she clutched at her chest, which brought the dogs racing to her side. Rogue jumped into her lap and licked her face.

“My cordial . . .” she gasped. “Wh-where is my cordial?”

“I have it here.” Stifling a sigh, Jane pressed the bottle into the woman's hand. “Don't be alarmed. I'm not insulted. We're both just very upset, that's all.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Patch uncorked the bottle and sipped some cordial. “Very upset . . . indeed.”

“It will be all right.” Jane rubbed Mrs. Patch's shoulder, relieved to notice the older woman's breathing was already evening out. “I brought his lordship here precisely because I trust his ability to find people. I wouldn't have asked for his help if I'd had any fears about his character, I promise.”

Mrs. Patch nodded and drank a bit more cordial, but she seemed to be calming. “Rogue and Braganza did like him very well.” She petted the dogs. “And Nell, the
little flirt, would have climbed into his lap if she could have.”

“You see? You needn't worry. If anyone can locate Nancy, it's his lordship.”

Mrs. Patch lifted an anxious face to Jane. “But you won't . . . you shan't tell him about the coming baby, shall you?”

“Not until I have to. And I very well may.” Jane glanced away. The thought of how that conversation would go made her nearly as nervous as Mrs. Patch. “But I'd prefer not to until we find Nancy or it becomes absolutely necessary.”

“Good, good.” Mrs. Patch clutched Rogue to her hard enough to make the dog squirm. “Because you know that the minute his lordship hears of it, he'll insist that my niece have those embarrassing doctor's examinations. And if she
has
managed to keep the baby, that could very well make her lose it.”

“I know.”

It was one reason Jane was so reluctant to mention the possibility to Dom. Before she raised that specter, she had to be sure it was likely. What if she said something and then they found Nancy tomorrow? Dom might indeed insist that she be examined for signs of a pregnancy.

A great deal was at stake, after all. Because if he didn't take such a dire measure and he chose to wait until it was clear she was carrying a child, he wouldn't be able to do anything with the estate. Everything would stop
while there were endless discussions about the future, about what would happen if Nancy bore a son.

Jane wasn't privy to the terms of George's will. There was no telling whom George might have appointed to oversee his child's future, but it wasn't likely to be Dom. So Dom's hands would be tied until they learned whether the babe was a boy—and thus an heir—or a girl, in which case Dom would inherit. Meanwhile, the tension of living in such an atmosphere of uncertainty could easily make Nancy miscarry again.

Could that be why Nancy had run away—to find a quiet place while the child grew in her belly? To avoid the questions and examinations until she was further along in her pregnancy? That might explain Nancy's lack of need for clothes, if she thought she'd have to buy new ones to fit her advancing figure.

But then why not tell
someone
about her trip and where she was going, who could reach her if there was an emergency? For that matter, why not take her maid? Nancy wasn't the sort to fend for herself for months, especially if she was with child. So why leave in such a rush, and on the mail coach, no less?

It made no sense. And that was precisely why Jane couldn't tell Dom about the possible pregnancy until she gained more information.

For the next couple of hours, she fretted. She was forced to wait for Dom and listen while Mrs. Patch voiced her many worries: about the strange noises outside in the street at night, the noxious smells coming
from the butcher's shop next door, her dogs' safety when they went for walks with the servants.

Incredibly, Mrs. Patch didn't take the spaniels out herself. Apparently she hadn't lied about the fact that she never left her house. In that, she was much like Nancy's mother, who'd grown more reclusive with age, to the point that she'd relied on Jane to do anything that required leaving their home.

Jane couldn't imagine being cooped up in one house all the time. Already, she was impatient to be gone from Mrs. Patch's. Much as she liked the woman's adorable spaniels, she was dying to know what Dom had discovered. Was it possible he'd actually found Nancy? Could that be why he was taking so long? Perhaps Nancy had simply stopped for a few nights at Ringrose's Inn, and he was even now coming back to give them the triumphant news.

But no, when he arrived, there was nothing in his grim expression to say that he'd met with success. He
had
discovered something, however. She could tell. And it was clearly something he didn't want to share with Mrs. Patch.

That made it all the harder for Jane to wait through the necessary goodbyes and repeated assurances that they would keep Mrs. Patch informed of what they learned.

By the time they were in the street, she was fit to be tied. “All right,” she said without preamble, “what took you so long? What did you find out at the inn?”

He walked with such long strides toward the Ele
phant and Castle that she had to hurry to keep up with him. “I didn't go to the inn right away. I spent some time in this neighborhood first, asking about Nancy and Meredith. The neighbors said that after visiting Mrs. Patch the two women always headed off for the more fashionable area of shops.”