He strode to the door and roared down the corridor. “Foster, have Hill return immediately. I shall wait for him in my study.”

His butler must have been lurking in the shadows for he stepped forward bowing obsequiously. “You haven’t taken breakfast again this morning, your grace. Shall I have something sent to you?”

Alexander was about to refuse for he’d had little appetite these past two days but he needed his strength, he could not afford to become unwell. “As you wish— I want coffee served with it.”

His study was the one place where he was comfortable. Eleanor and the children had never entered here so it wasn’t linked to their deaths. He’d no idea if Isobel had investigated this room in his absence; he hoped she had for then he could feel closer to her.

The thought of what Isobel had endured since their marriage almost unmanned him. He’d kept her cloistered like an inmate of an asylum. Her wardens had been his too attentive staff. He had been so immersed his own selfish affairs he’d never considered how unhappy she must be with no friends or family to support her.

Hill arrived at the same time as his breakfast and on impulse he invited his man of affairs to join him. They sat and munched together and Alexander was surprised how hungry he was. “I want you to select three discreet and reliable men, have them ride out and make enquiries as to the direction my wife has taken. They are not to make themselves known, merely follow. When she’s settled they can send word to me.”

“My lord, might I suggest we send the men in pairs? That way one can come back with news whilst the other continues his surveillance.”

“Good man, arrange that if you will. I intend to wait two weeks and then close Newcomb. I shall take the staff and move permanently to Town. Make sure these men are aware of my movements and that they don’t report here when I’m gone.”

“Do you wish me to remain in your absence, your grace? Or shall I accompany you to London?”

“Come with me, set yourself up somewhere. God knows, there are enough rooms in Grosvenor Square.” He reached into his desk and withdrew a wallet filled with paper notes. He added a substantial bag of coins and the matter was settled.

When the chambermaid had removed the empty tray he stretched out on the day bed in front of the fire. He had not slept since Isobel had run away, every time he closed his eyes he relived his actions and woke sweating and ashamed. He no longer attempted to sleep in his room but took catnaps in his study whenever his eyes refused to stay open.

As he was drifting off to sleep he reviewed what he knew about Isobel’s flight. He was certain she had at least three hundred pounds in her possession. Each quarter she had the full amount of her allowance and, as far as he was aware, had spent none of it on frills and furbelows. The cost of maintaining her two servants was negligible. Had she somehow anticipated that one day this moment could come and she would need funds to make good her escape?

When Foster had informed him Isobel was hoarding money in her closet he had been horrified his staff believed he wished them to spy on her. He had told Foster in no uncertain terms to mind his own business and make sure the staff did the same. No further reports were given to him, but with hindsight he realised this surveillance had probably continued. Should he ask his butler if he knew where Isobel intended to go? What was he thinking? He would never discuss his wife with that dried up stick of a man.

He jackknifed, all desire for sleep vanishing. There was one thing he could do which would prove to her how much he’d changed. He would get his lawyers to ferret out his heir. There must be one somewhere as his grandfather had had several younger brothers. One of them must have managed to produce a male between them. He would groom this gentleman; teach him everything he would need to become the next Duke of Rochester. Surely this would prove to Isobel he had accepted she was unable to bear him children, and that he was happy to live his life without setting up his nursery?

*   *   *

The two weeks passed with no news of Isobel. She appeared to have vanished without trace. He could procrastinate no longer. He’d had word from his lawyers that one, Richard Bentley Esq, had been located and was on his way to meet him in Town.

Newcomb was under holland covers, several diligences had already departed with items of furniture that he could not live without plus the majority of his wardrobe. The exodus was like a military operation. Transferring over a hundred staff and their belongings, as well as his own, to Grosvenor Square required careful planning and execution. He would be glad to turn his back on this place. The building now held nothing but unhappy memories. His first wife and daughters had died here and then Isobel had left him.

He was resigned to the fact she might never come back, that he would have to spend the rest of his life alone. He would never divorce her. He had no wish for another wife. Isobel was everything a man could want.

Lady Fulbright, his ex-mistress had cornered him at a card party the last time he’d been in Town and made it blatantly obvious she was more than willing to resume their relationship. He recalled the heartache his father had caused by his frequent adulteries and firmly rebuffed her overture.

He shook his head. He would never be so self-indulgent; stopping his drinking and gambling was only half the task. To give in to the demands of the flesh would make him a lesser man. Indeed, he was in every way a much reduced specimen. His years of overindulgence showed in the flab on his once lean torso. If he attempted a round at Jackson’s he would be floored in seconds. That was something else he would pay attention to. Whether he ever persuaded Isobel to return or not he would get himself back in shape, be someone she could respect, even if she could never forgive.

One day his men would discover her whereabouts. He would ride to her and she would see the difference in him and would know he was a changed man. Maybe the she might reconsider. He closed his eyes and her image filled his head. The way she used to smile at him, the way her eyes lit up when he entered the room, her delight when he returned to her and the refreshing innocence with which she welcomed him into her bed. How could he have been so stupid? She had offered him something precious and like a fool he’d crushed her gift beneath his feet.

Chapter Eight

Isobel sat back her forehead clammy, her head spinning and thanked God the retching was over. Mary removed the basin and replaced it with a clean vessel. Isobel accepted a cool drink, rinsed her mouth and spat the last of the noxious matter into the bowl. There was no doubt; she had to accept the impossible. She was increasing.

“I shall have to return to Newcomb, Mary, I don’t wish to, but I am with child. I’ve suspected so for some time but could scarcely believe it. I haven’t had my courses since we arrived and that must be more than eight weeks ago. Whatever my feelings for the duke, I can’t deny this child its birthright.”

Mary nodded. “I’ve known for weeks, madam, but didn’t like to say considering the circumstances. I’ve been waiting for you to draw the same conclusion. You needed time to recover from what happened without further anxiety. But Sam and I have things organised. We can be ready to leave any time you want.”

Sally Harris, who had been turned off by her previous employers, had joined them a few days after their arrival at Home Farm. The young woman now acted as her abigail. Isobel turned to her. “Sally, I shall be returning to Hertfordshire, to Newcomb, are you willing to accompany me?”

“I’d be delighted, madam, if you’re sure the likes of me will be allowed to serve you at such a grand place.”

Isobel stood up, smiling at the young woman she’d become quite fond of these past weeks. “It will be very different from living here.I intend to have my own people around me. You’ll be answerable to me and no one else.”

Sally curtsied. “I’ll get started packing your clothes, madam, if you don’t require my services.”

“No, I wish to speak to Mrs Watkins. I shall ring if I need you.”

The two basins were removed to the dressing room leaving Mary alone with her. “I’ll not be browbeaten by the staff this time; I intend my return to be on my terms.”

“You have our full support, and I’m certain sure the others you’ve taken on here will be more than happy to come with us.”

“Bill has made an excellent footman so he shall be my butler. His experience serving as a valet to a brigadier during the war, has given him all the skills he needs for this post. His leg injury has been no impediment to his efficiency so far.” Isobel considered the other staff. The cook and kitchen maid, a mother and daughter had been made homeless when the man of the house died. These two would be pleased to accompany her. However the two women who came in to do the heavy work had families of their own. They would wish to remain in Norfolk. She would leave the maintenance of the house in their capable hands.

“Will you please inform everyone, Mary? Betty and Ada will require sufficient funds to tide them over until our return.”

“Yes, madam.” Mary fiddled with an apron before continuing. “Shall we call you by your title in future? Being plain Mrs Baverstock is all very well out here in the country, but at Newcomb things will be different.”

Isobel was relieved her friend made no comment about her intention to return. “I have no choice so I suppose it’s better to resume my title now and become used to hearing myself addressed by it. I wish to leave the day after tomorrow; I’m sure the roads will have dried by then.”