Whirlwind Wedding

'Why not let your investigator find him?'

'I wish to follow up on this lead while it's still hot.'

She regarded him steadily through serious eyes. 'I want to accompany you.'

'Absolutely not.'

'Don't you realize that I could help you? Can you not at least try to believe that I could? I might sense something that could aid you in your search. If I touch something he touched or a person he spoke to, perhaps I could feel him… his whereabouts.'

'Damn it, I know you want to help me, and while I cannot deny you possess a keen intuition, you're not a magician. There is simply no way you can assist me with this. And the idea of taking you to the slums of London is out of the question. I appreciate your concern, but-'

'But you won't allow me to come with you.'

'No. The riverfront is dangerous. If any harm came to you, I'd never forgive himself.'

'Yet you put yourself in danger.'

'The risk is not nearly as great for a man.'

Frustration simmered in her eyes. 'What must I do to prove to you that I can help you?'

Prove that her so-called visions would lead him to Gaspard? A man Bow Street's finest talent could not find? He wished to hell he could believe that, but he'd given up on fairy tales long ago.

'There is nothing you can do,' he said quietly, hating the hurt his words brought to her eyes, but he had no choice.

Elizabeth could not help him. Of that he was certain.

Elizabeth walked down the stairs carrying a copy of Sense and Sensibility, one of the many books Austin had bought her yesterday. She had no desire to read but with her stomach cramped with tension from worrying about Austin being at the riverfront, she was desperate for any diversion.

Standing in the marble-tiled foyer, she looked uncertainly from left to right. Perhaps she could first find the kitchens and pilfer a cup of cider?

'May I help you, your grace?' a deep voice intoned.

'Oh!' Her hand flew to her breast. 'Carters! You startled me.'

'Please forgive me, your grace.' He bowed from the waist, then stood so stiffly erect she wondered if someone had stuck a plank down the back of his breeches.

'Think nothing of it, Carters,' she said with a smile that went unanswered. 'Can you please direct me to the kitchens?'

Carters stared at her, his face devoid of all expression. 'The kitchens, your grace?'

A wave of dismay washed over her at the butler's forbidding tone. She drew herself up and smiled at him again. 'Yes. I would like some cider.'

'There's no need for you to ever enter the kitchens, your grace. I'll arrange at once for a footman to bring you some cider.' He turned on his heel and started walking away, presumably to summon a footman.

She noticed his limp immediately. She was certain he hadn't been limping when she first met him. She studied his retreating form for several seconds, assessing his uneven gait. 'Carters?'

The butler stopped and turned to face her. 'Yes, your grace?'

'I hope you won't think me rude, but I couldn't help but notice your limp.'

For a split second he looked startled. Then his mask of blandness fell back into place. 'It's nothing, your grace.'

'Nonsense. It's obviously something.' She approached him, and when she stood directly before him, she suppressed a laugh. The top of his bald head came only to her nose. 'Have you suffered an accident of some sort?'

'No, your grace. 'Tis merely my new footwear. The leather is quite stiff and not broken in yet.'

'I see.' She glanced down at his shiny black shoes and nodded in understanding. 'You're suffering from a blister?'

'Yes, your grace. Several.' He raised his chin. 'But they'd never prevent me from fulfilling my duties.'

'Heavens, I never thought they would. Anyone can see you're the soul of competence. I'm merely concerned that you're suffering.' She smiled at the dour-faced man. 'Has anyone treated your blisters? The doctor, perhaps?'

'Certainly not, your grace,' he huffed his shoulders thrown back so far Elizabeth marveled that he remained upright instead of falling over backward.

'I see. Where is the library, Carters?'

The butler pointed. ''Tis the third door on the left down this corridor, your grace.'

'Fine. Meet me there in five minutes, please.' She turned to go back up the stairs.

'In the library, your grace?'

'Yes. In five minutes.' With that she swept up the stairs.

'Do you know what's become of my duchess?' Austin asked an under butler, striding into the foyer. He'd returned from the riverfront and had been looking for Elizabeth for nearly a quarter hour without success.

'She is in the library, your grace.'

Austin gazed around the otherwise empty foyer. 'Where is Carters?'

'I believe he's with the duchess in the library, your grace.'

A moment later Austin strode into the library and stopped dead in his tracks. His wife was kneeling before his butler, who sat in Austin's favorite wing chair. Carters was barefoot, and the legs of his breeches had been rolled back several times, revealing skinny, hairy calves.

Austin watched from the doorway in stupefied disbelief as Elizabeth deftly placed Carters's bare foot upon her lap and proceeded to rub his heel and sole with some sort of cream. Just when Austin believed he could not possibly be more astonished, something happened that made his jaw drop.

He saw Carters smile. Smile!

A more proper, dour, chillingly correct butler than Carters didn't draw breath in all of England. In all the years Carters had served his family, Austin had never seen the man so much as crack a grin. Not even a tiny twitching of his lips. Until now.

But what happened next caused Austin's jaw to drop farther. He heard a deep-throated chuckle come from Carters's throat. The man was chuckling, for God's sake.

Austin shook his head to clear it. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the scene before him was the result of too much brandy. But he was stone cold sober. So it had to be real. Didn't it? Gathering his startled wits, he walked across the room.

'What's going on here?' he asked approaching his wife who never ceased to amaze him and his butler whom he apparently didn't know at all. Elizabeth sent him a searching gaze, her eyes filled with concern. Carters looked absolutely stricken. Austin nodded to Elizabeth and sent her a reassuring look that drained the tension from her face.

'Your grace!' the butler exclaimed, his face flushing a mottled red. He attempted to stand, but Elizabeth shook her head.

'Stay seated, Carters,' she ordered firmly. 'I'm almost finished.' Carters coughed and sank back into the chair. She lowered his one foot to the floor and picked up the other one, gently applying a small amount of salve from a wooden bowl. Her bag of medicines sat open on the floor beside her.

Austin cleared his throat. 'What on earth are you doing to Carters, Elizabeth?' he asked his eyes riveted to the extraordinary sight of his duchess tenderly administering to his formidable butler's feet.

'Poor Carters has terrible blisters from his new shoes,' she explained wrapping the foot with a clean bandage. 'They were bleeding and stood a good chance of becoming infected so I cleaned his wounds and prepared a healing salve to relieve his discomfort.' She tucked the end of the bandage in and set Carters' trousers to rights. 'There! All finished. You may replace your stockings and shoes now, Carters.'

Carters hurriedly complied.