“He might,” she said doubtfully. “But I don’t see why. He hasn’t been there since Henry died, and the place is tenanted with strangers. Where did Carey and his parents live?”
“In Liverpool. William managed our Atlantic shipping from the docks there. But their house was sold after the accident.”
“Would he go looking for you?”
“I doubt it,” he said grimly. “But I’ve sent messages to all my offices to be on the lookout just in case.”
“Is there anywhere else Carey’s likely to go?”
Mr. Townsend growled with frustration. “Hell, I don’t know. The lad’s as silent as the grave with me. I should have tried harder, but I know nowt about raising bairns. When William named me guardian, I swore I’d look after his boy—now I’ve let him and Jenny down.” Despite her overwhelming concern for Brand, the bewildered sorrow in Mr. Townsend’s voice made Fenella’s heart ache.
Her hands clenched in her skirts. She’d lost Henry. Be…damned if she’d lose Brandon, too. Since her husband’s death, her love for her son was all that had kept her going. Only in the last few months had she seen a glimmer of a fresh start. Her friends Caroline Beaumont and Helena Wade had decided that five years of mourning were enough for any woman and they’d dragged her back into society.
With a determined gesture, she set her untouched brandy next to her embroidery. “Let’s go, then.”
Mr. Townsend regarded her blankly as she stood. “Go?”
“Yes. I’m coming with you back to Eton.”
“That’s impossible, my
dear Lady Deerham.”
“No, it’s not. And while we argue, the boys get further out of reach.”
The emphatic brows—heaven help her, everything on Mr. Townsend was larger than life—drew together over his eyes. “There’s no way I’m taking you. I don’t have time to cater to a lady’s requirements.”
Fenella’s lips tightened at his quick dismissal of her usefulness and endurance. For five years, people had coddled her—if truth were told, people had always coddled her—and she’d had enough. It had been unpleasant, but refreshingly bracing when Mr. Townsend had shouted at her. Nobody ever shouted at her. Since her widowhood, they were inclined to murmur in her presence as if they were in church.
“I won’t hold you up,” she said evenly.
“Of course you will.” He leveled a telling look upon her. “I mean…look at you. You’d crack with one careless touch.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Looks can deceive, sir. I’ve borne a child. I’ve lost a beloved husband. I’ve made a life for myself.” Well, at least, thanks to Helena and Caro, she was trying to turn that last claim into reality. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Townsend. A moment’s weakness does not a weakling make.”
“My dear Lady Deerham, you can’t go traipsing off into the night with a man you don’t know. There will be a scandal.”
“Believe me, sir, your reputation is safe.” If he called her his dear lady again, she’d go after him with a fire iron. “And even if it’s not, I promise you don’t have to marry me.”
He didn’t smile. “You speak lightly, but you haven’t considered the consequences. My reputation in society doesn’t matter a tinker’s damn. Nobody’s likely to worry about my suitability for Almack’s. You, on the other hand, move in more discriminating circles.”
It was a good argument, she gave him that. But not good enough when her beloved son was in danger. “I’m coming with you.”
“You can trust me with Brandon, you know.”
Surprisingly, some deep instinct insisted that, despite his rough edges, Mr. Townsend was a good man. In his care, Brand would be safe. But for heaven’s sake, she was Brand’s mother, and only crushing him in her arms and giving him a good scolding would banish her terror. “I know.”
If she expected gratitude for her trust, she was disappointed. He folded his arms over his broad chest and regarded her like an insect. “Then let me do this. I’ll send word as soon as I find them.”
“You won’t do that because I’ll be right beside you.”
“No, you won’t. And nothing you say will sway me, madam.”
Madam was almost as grating as my dear Lady Deerham. “Very well.”
He looked relieved. “Excellent. I knew you’d see sense.”
She rang for Greaves who appeared so swiftly that he must have been standing outside the door. “Have my gig readied.”