“You suspect someone of having taken her?”

  “No.”

  “Then how and why do you think she disappeared so completely that no one has set eyes on her these past two years?”

  He shrugged. “She has not been seen again in London. But she could have traveled to the Highlands of Scotland, perhaps even the Continent or the Americas.”

  “But for what purpose?”

  “To punish Julian by ostracizing him from Society,” St. Albans growled. “Which she has succeeded in doing.”

  “Why would she want to do that?” From all that Georgiana had heard of the Duke of Moreland, he was regarded as being not only handsome but extremely wealthy. A woman could put up with many things in order to have the latter at her disposal.

  Not Georgiana, of course, but for many other women, Moreland would have been the catch of the Season.

  St. Albans gave a disgusted snort. “Because she knew Julian was very unhappy in their marriage. That he might even take steps to end it.”

  “Do you think he would have done that?”

  “I think he would have been well within his rights to do so,” St. Albans stated. “Impossible to live with a woman who was all simpering and loving sweetness before the wedding, but once she had secured her position as the Duchess of Moreland, she showed her true colors of being a coldhearted bitch.” He made no apology for the blunt description of the missing duchess.

  “You did not like her.”

  “None of Moreland’s friends did. Oh, we tried, for his sake, but we all saw her true nature when Moreland did not.”

  “That is unfortunate, but surely it would still have been more beneficial, financially and socially, for her to remain in the marriage, even though they were both unhappy?”

  The duke leveled his pale blue gaze on her. “For her, but not for Moreland. As for the marriage being beneficial… I do know that several pieces of jewelry, given to the duchess by Moreland soon after their marriage, also went missing on the day she disappeared.”

  “Perhaps she was wearing them?” Georgiana suggested practically.

  His mouth twisted. “Which is exactly what Moreland knew others would say if he told them of the missing jewelry.”

  “But you do not think that to be the case?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it was the sort of jewelry women wear to go to a ball or to be presented to the Prince Regent, not to be worn during the day. A large diamond necklace, with a matching bracelet and earbobs, all worth many thousands of pounds. Even so, the missing jewelry was not enough for Moreland to have claimed her disappearance had been calculated. But still enough, if they were sold, for a woman to live very comfortably for the rest of her life, if necessary.”

  The jewels did sound rather ostentatious for a woman to wear during the day. Not that Georgiana had personal experience of such things, her only jewelry being a gold cross given to her by her godmother at her christening. She could not even imagine owning, let alone wearing, jewelry worth many thousands of pounds.

  “I am telling you all this in confidence, of course,” St. Albans warned. “As a way of reassuring you that Moreland is innocent of any wrongdoing in regard to his missing wife.”

  Georgiana raised indignant brows. “I trust you are not implying that I would ever repeat any of what you have just told me? Because I am not in the habit of indulging in gossip, Your Grace, nor of breaking a promise of silence on a subject if asked to do so. A promise I now duly give.”

  His stern expression softened somewhat. “My Lily tells me that you are always the soul of discretion and that she would happily trust you with her life as well as her secrets.”

  Georgiana’s cheeks felt warm at the compliment. “I feel exactly the same affection toward her and our other close friends.”

  “Good,” St. Albans accepted briskly. “In that case, I hope you will take my word for it that Julian did not kill his wife.”

  And who, Georgiana mused, would dare to challenge the word of the powerful Duke of St. Albans.

  Georgiana had no intention of doing so. Not because she felt in the least fearful of St. Albans’s wrath if she did, but because she preferred to form her own opinions of people and not be told by others what to think of them.

  As such, she would decide for herself, once she had met the Duke of Moreland, whether he was innocent or guilty of any wrongdoing in his wife’s disappearance.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Last day of May, 1817,

  Moreland Park Estate, Norfolk.

  The crescent moon above was only fleetingly visible as the dark and rain-filled clouds scuttered heavily across the midnight sky, the storm they brought with them raging down onto the sandy beach below. Occasional streaks of lightning forked down to the churning sea, briefly lighting up the night sky.

  Julian leaned low over the mane of his stallion as he urged that powerful beast to gallop faster still through the churning sea-foam. But they still weren’t fast enough to outrun the incoming tide as it crashed dramatically onto the mile-long stretch of beach that signified the western border of Julian’s estate.

  Julian had lost his hat within minutes of leaving the stables and cantering down onto the dunes. A hat that had been tossed up in the air and then carried out to sea on one of those fierce and relentless waves. Within seconds, his dark hair had become soaking wet, and the rain was pelting against his face in stinging blows before cascading in a cold torrent to soak uncomfortably into his clothing.

  Despite that discomfort, the wildness of the storm perfectly suited Julian’s mood.

  Even if inwardly, he also cursed the reason for this turmoil of emotions.

  Bloody secretaries.

  He had no idea why he had thought this new one would be any different from the ones who’d come before. He had perhaps made that assumption because this person came with the personal recommendation of Julian’s friend Gabriel Lord, the Duke of St. Albans.

  But it seemed, as that secretary had not arrived ‘by the end of the month,’ as St. Albans had informed Julian would be the case in the letter he had received from his friend two weeks ago, that even that forceful gentleman was incapable of ensuring a secretary would travel to Norfolk with the intention of taking up employment with Julian.

  And why should he have thought it would be any different this time, when there had been a constant flow of such secretaries wafting through Moreland Park these past two years. Wafting, because all of them had lasted only a matter of days or weeks once they realized he was that Julian Sotherby, the Duke of Moreland. The same man everyone, both locally and in England’s capital, believed was responsible for killing his own wife.

  Bloody Annabel.

  When they met three years ago, the war with Napoleon was newly over, and, no longer needed to fight in Wellington’s army, Julian had returned to England. To a country not untouched by the war, because so many young men had been killed during the years of warfare. But it was a country, and a people, who represented the beauty of the England Julian had been fighting to protect.

  Annabel had seemed especially so. She had been thirteen years younger than his own age of three and thirty, her golden hair and innocent beauty representing everything Julian had fought to protect. He had also believed his immediate attraction to her to be reciprocated.

  Until the two of them were married, and Annabel, even on their wedding night, had spurned even the slightest of intimacies Julian attempted to initiate.

  Because she had been so much younger than him, Julian had believed her to simply be nervous at the idea of a physical union. He had determined to be a patient and loving husband, believing only time and familiarity were needed to ease Annabella’s reservations.

  Ha!

  Time and familiarity had only seen the increased deterioration of their relationship. To a degree that, after only six months of that sterile marriage, they could barely stand to be in the same room together, let alone share a bed.

  By their first anniversary, Julian knew that an annulment was the only answer to the intolerable situation he now found himself living in. Annabel was willing to be neither companion nor lover, and as a result, Julian felt neither married nor unmarried. Instead, he was caught in a torturous limbo between the two.

  He had also been forced to accept that Annabel’s sole reason for marrying him had to be because of the Moreland name and fortune. The former was prestigious, the latter extensive, and Annabel obviously enjoyed both while doing nothing to fulfill her side of the marriage.

  Julian felt not only used but also deeply foolish for ever having allowed himself to be blinded by Annabel’s beauty and an innocent warmth that was now sadly lacking.

  It was not only a miserable existence but an unacceptable one.

  One answer might have been for Julian to take a mistress, for both companionship and sexual release. But Julian had an aversion to doing so when his own father’s history of having numerous mistresses over the years had repeatedly belittled and hurt Julian’s mother.

  Julian might have felt no hope for the continuation of his marriage as it was, but he had still not wanted to hurt Annabel. He simply saw no way forward with their marriage when she had made it clear she did not want anything to do with him.

  Which was why he had suggested they separate and eventually bring a formal end to the marriage.

  Annabel had refused to even discuss the subject. Repeatedly. Indeed, the two of them had argued about it again the morning Annabel disappeared, her last words as she left the house being that she intended to take a long walk, alone, along the beach.

  She never returned from that walk, and after extensive searches, both near and far, Julian was eventually forced to accept that his wife must have somehow been swept away and drowned in the fierceness of the North Sea.

  Much as Julian regretted the loss of any young life, he could not say he mourned the absence of Annabel’s presence. After being everything that was agreeable during their very brief courtship, her words had been cutting and her manner disdainful toward him once they were married. She had told Julian repeatedly that she neither loved nor desired him.

  The coldness of her words and demeanor had succeeded in killing any love Julian might once have felt for her.

  Consequently, her disappearance meant that he felt only relief at no longer having to suffer through Annabel’s silence or hurtful barbs.

  But he very quickly realized, as the rumors began to circulate of his having possibly followed his wife to the beach that day and killed her before disposing of her body, that he should probably have made more of an effort to appear the grieving, rather than relieved, widower.

  Friends like the Dukes of St. Albans and Hellsmere had stood by him, of course, believing his claim of innocence in the matter. But even they could not halt the flow of gossip which followed Julian wherever he went.

  That speculation had become unbearable when he dared to set foot in London in the spring following Annabel’s disappearance. Within days of being bombarded by that relentless gossip, he had retreated back to Norfolk, and here he had remained ever since.

  Alone.

  And, if he were honest, lonely.

  Which now brought him to the realization that the reason he was so angry at the non-appearance of his new secretary was because he had been looking forward to their company. Even if it had only been for the few days it had taken his new employee to realize he was the duke suspected of murdering his wife.

  Damn it, he didn’t need anyone!

  Least of all a secretary who would no doubt judge and condemn him the moment they learned who he was.

  With that resolution in mind, Julian pulled on the reins before urging Shadow to gallop across the sandy beach and traverse up the dunes, before then emerging onto the rough track at the back entrance to Moreland Park that led directly to the stables. Once he reached the house, he would strip out of his wet clothing and enjoy the luxury of sitting in a hot bath to get warm.

  Once he was refreshed and in dry clothing, he would then go downstairs to his library and indulge in the decanter of brandy sitting waiting, with a glass, on the table next to his chair beside the warmth of the fire.

  There was certainly nothing and no one who might object if he should become slightly inebriated⁠—

  Julian barely had time to register the approach of the horses and carriage on the rutted track. The sound of the raging storm had muffled their presence, and Shadow, alarmed, now reared up on his powerful hind legs.

  Unfortunately, the two horses pulling the carriage were equally as startled and also reared. The driver of the vehicle let out a warning shout before the front legs of the three equines fell back to earth at the same time.

  The hooves of the nearest horse crashed down onto Shadow’s heaving side, dislodging Julian’s booted foot from the stirrup and knocking him off-balance.

  Faced with releasing the reins and controlling his fall or being crushed beneath the hooves of the two still plunging horses attached to the carriage, Julian chose to let go.

  His last thought before one of those churning hooves struck him a glancing blow on the side of his head as he fell was to wonder what on earth a carriage was doing traveling along this track that led only to Moreland Park, in the dark of the night, in the first place.

  Georgiana had no time to gather her thoughts as she was jarred from lightly dozing on the comfortably upholstered bench seat of the St. Albans carriage to full wakefulness in a matter of seconds when the vehicle lurched to a sudden stop. She was forced to grasp the leather hand strap to prevent herself from being thrown onto the floor.

  There was the sound of several horses whinnying outside, accompanied by men shouting, no doubt the groom driving the carriage and the second groom seated beside him. Indications that Georgiana was not still asleep and had not dreamt the sounds of alarm.

  She sat forward hastily to pull back the curtain over the window in the door. But she could only see the pitch-black darkness and the heaviness of the rain still falling from the sky overhead.

  The grooms had suggested stopping for the night at the inn five miles away when the rain first began to show signs of growing heavier, but Georgiana had refused.

  She was very conscious of the fact she had made a promise to the Duke of St. Albans, to pass on to his friend, that she would reach Moreland Park before the end of May. As today was the last day of that month, Georgiana had been determined to honor that promise.

  It had taken far longer to make the necessary arrangements for her to leave London than she had expected.

  First, she had needed to write to Julia and Amanda, to gain their agreement for the deceit as to where she intended going when she left London.

  Then she had needed to speak to her mother and sisters so she could explain that her intention was to visit with her friends in the country for several months. Her mother had, of course, protested, but only because she did not like the idea of Georgiana surrounding herself with so much grief when they were already in mourning for the earl. Georgiana had assured her mother that the country air would restore her.

  It had been a longer journey than Georgiana had expected, and not an altogether comfortable one, despite the luxury of the ducal carriage.

  They had finally made it into Norfolk yesterday, but the roads were not the best, and it had taken far longer to reach the coast, which was her final destination, than Georgiana would have wished. Hence, her refusal to stop at the inn earlier.

  Unfortunately, the storm had become worse and the shelter less frequent on the barren landscape the farther they traveled toward the Norfolk coast.

  The original inn being farther behind them than Moreland Park was in front of them, they had been forced to press onward to their final destination, despite the rapid deterioration of roads that had now become mere tracks awash with the heavy rain.

  But they now appeared to have come to an abrupt halt, and along with those worrying noises from the horses, the carriage was being rocked dangerously from one side to the other.

  It made Georgiana feel something akin to the seasickness she had suffered when she had traveled by boat with her parents to the Isle of Wight for a holiday when she was their only child and her father had not yet become bitter when he realized his only children would be three useless-to-him daughters.

  Quite what she would have done next, Georgiana had no idea, because the door beside her was wrenched open by one of the grooms and her arm grasped in his tight hold. “You need to get out, miss.” He took the lit lamp from inside the carriage to help light the way as he pulled her toward the open doorway. “Quickly now, before you’re carried away in a driverless carriage,” he urged as the carriage began to lurch forward.

  Georgiana only just managed to stumble down the steps. The wind instantly blew her bonnet off her head, and only the ribbon tied beneath her chin prevented it from being taken away completely. The moment her booted feet touched the ground, they slid from beneath her, and she tipped forward in the mud.

  She looked up in time to watch as the St. Albans ducal carriage, and the two horses pulling it, shot away into the darkness.

  The silence was instant, even if the darkness was slightly alleviated by the lantern still being held aloft by the second groom, who looked to be as covered in mud as she now was. “You all right, miss?”

  Was she?

  It had seemed like the start of an adventure for her to travel alone to Norfolk and take up employment with the Duke of Moreland. A heady excitement in a life which had so far mainly consisted of a childhood spent avoiding her father’s cutting cruelty, and then as an adult attending balls and other Society entertainments, where her mother, at least, had hoped Georgiana would eventually find a suitable beau to marry.

  But nowhere in that perceived adventure had Georgiana envisaged sitting in a carriage for days on end, watching the scenery become flatter and flatter the moment they entered Norfolk, before she was rudely deposited onto the muddy ground and then forced to watch as the carriage and horses disappeared into the darkness.