At the command, Hobbs couldn’t hide a shocked grimace, then he said, “The man’s face is memorable, my lord. I won’t soon forget him.”
Hobbs eased away as Periwinkle doffed his hat and said, “Hello, Lord Barrett. We meet again.”
“You have some gall to bluster in, Periwinkle.”
“I’ve heard that about myself,” the cheeky dolt agreed. “I have so much gall.”
“I’ll give you exactly thirty seconds to tell me why you’re here, and it better not be because you’re hoping to bother my fiancée.”
“I don’t intend to bother Miss Carstairs. I’ve brought her a surprise.”
Periwinkle stepped to the side, and Luke could see a pretty, dark-haired woman had been concealed behind him. He scrutinized her, then frowned. “Should I know you? You’re awfully familiar, but I can’t place you.”
She blanched. “You’re Lord Barrett?”
“Yes, I’m Barrett.” Recognition dawned, and he blanched too. “You were at the prison the day Libby was released from jail.”
“I talked to you,” the woman said, “but I didn’t realize who you were.”
Periwinkle puffed himself up. “This is Miss Carstairs’s surprise. This is Little Caro.” Luke glared at him, the name meaning nothing, and Periwinkle added, “Caro? Caroline Grey? From the shipwreck? She’s a Lost Girl too.”
Luke jumped as if he’d been poked with a pin. He recalled Miss Grey from the prison. She’d been bedraggled, as if she’d been experiencing personal difficulties, and he’d worried she was a tad unbalanced, so he’d been very abrupt with her.
She’d told him who she was, but the import hadn’t registered, and the encounter had slipped his mind. To his great dismay, he hadn’t mentioned it to Libby.
He was feeling discombobulated, amazed at how Fate worked in such strange ways. He was about to head over to apprise Libby about her visitor, but when he turned, she’d emerged from the parlor and was staring at them.
“Caro. . . ?” she murmured. “Is it you? It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m Caro. Do you remember me, Libby? If you say you don’t, I couldn’t bear it.”
Libby was still holding the glass of liquor he’d poured for her. It slid from her fingers, the contents splashing onto the rug. Then she ran across the room, and she slammed into Miss Grey so hard that they nearly fell to the floor. He and Periwinkle leapt to steady them.
The two women were hugging, crying, and through her tears, Libby said, “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive. Every minute since we were separated, I’ve been waiting.”
“I’ve been waiting too,” Miss Grey replied, “but I didn’t know how to find you.”
“Everything will be all right now,” Libby said to her. “In fact, everything will be perfect.”
Caroline was brimming with gladness. It was very late, and she and Libby had been sequestered for hours. Lord Barrett had locked them in Libby’s bedroom suite. A housemaid had snuck in and out occasionally to check on them, but other than her quiet monitoring, they’d been alone.
Caroline had told Libby her entire history, starting with her being sent to live with her grandfather. She described how dreadful those years had been, how she’d been abused and mistreated and maligned.
Then she’d explained how her life had improved after her grandfather had died, how her Uncle Samson had taken charge of the family, but that it had never been particularly good. She talked about being engaged to Gregory whom she didn’t like very much and didn’t wish to wed.
She confessed how her relatives viewed her as a peculiar and damaged person merely because she’d endured a tragedy, and it was marvelous to have Libby listen and commiserate. As Caroline had suspected, Libby understood how terribly distressing her return to England had been.
Libby had told Caroline her entire history too, starting with her Uncle Harry claiming her from the authorities. He’d been allowed to waltz off with her, but he hadn’t been a relative. He’d simply been acquainted with her mother, and for reasons no one could clarify, he’d pretended to be her kin.
He’d been aware that she was Lord Roland’s missing daughter, but he’d hidden the truth and had raised her as his own child. Having recognized her flamboyant tendencies, he’d trained her for the stage, and she’d grown up, traveling around the country, regaling audiences with tales of the shipwreck and their survival after it.
It was such a relief to confer over what they recollected, to jog their memories and fill in the blanks. They’d been so young when the disaster had happened, so they’d forgotten many details.
“Mr. Periwinkle has met with Joanna,” Caroline said.
Libby gasped. “You’re joking.”
“He asked her to join us for a reunion, and she’s agreed.”
“I thought I hated Periwinkle, but maybe I don’t.”
“He was kind to me, and if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.”
Libby smirked at the notion. “I’ll send Joanna an invitation to the wedding. If need be, Luke can have someone fetch her to Barrett.”
Caroline’s pulse raced at the prospect. “What a spectacular ending that would be for the three of us.”
“I have to show you something.”
They were stretched out on the bed, lying on their sides, nose to nose. Libby slid away and went to the dresser. She retrieved a page that had been cut from a very old newspaper. It was yellowed with age, the paper tattered and brittle from being folded and unfolded.
It was an artist’s sketch of them from when they were first back in England, and Caroline said, “What a precious picture. Where did you get it?”
“When the navy was searching for our kin, they disseminated a story about us.”
“I don’t recall it being drawn.”
“Neither do I, but my Uncle Harry kept this copy. He’d pull it out occasionally, and he’d snicker over how it didn’t look like me. One morning when he wasn’t home, I stole it. I’d gaze at it when I was feeling low, and I’d think of you and Joanna and wonder if
