Before Caro could correct her, Mrs. Trelawney said enthusiastically, “There’s a rumor—though, of course, I have no way to know if it’s true—that his lordship left a sizeable bequest to any natural children of his. Perhaps you can make a claim.”
Caro and Val exchanged a look, though Caro tried not to show any reaction to that bit of information.
“No,” she said. “We believe a dear friend of ours might be that child, however. Unfortunately, she’s gone missing. We found a note among her things where she was looking into her parentage after being taken in by the Warringtons all those years ago, and we thought perhaps coming here might lead us to finding her.”
“The poor lady,” Mrs. Trelawney said softly. “I had hoped she went on to live a happy life.”
“Does Lord Croyden still live in this area?” Val’s voice was deceptively casual; then turning to Caro, he added, “If so, perhaps we can pay a call on him, my dear.”
Their hostess shook her head. “I’m afraid the old earl died around the same time as my poor husband. The new earl is there, of course, but I doubt he’d know anything about the matter. He’s a cold one, he is. And he won’t thank you for bringing up his predecessor. He’s always on about how the former earl didn’t act like a man of his station should. Too quick to mix with the lower classes and didn’t hold himself aloof enough from those beneath him. If you ask me, he’s just jealous because he’s not as well-liked as the other man was.”
He sounded just the sort who would wish to keep any kinship between himself and an actress from becoming public, Caro thought.
“If that’s the case, then I understand why you would think he wouldn’t be of much help,” Val was saying to Mrs. Trelawney. “I daresay he wishes to erase the fact that his father ever held the title at all.”
“Oh, the old earl was his uncle,” Mrs. Trelawney corrected. “When the new Lord Croyden inherited the title, he came to the estate and cleared out everyone who worked there. Some had been employed by the earldom for generations. It isn’t even the family’s primary residence, but his lordship was convinced everyone was loyal to the old earl. It was a cruel thing he did, make no mistake. I was able to give as many of them a job here and at the carriage yard as I could. When people depend on you for their livelihood, it’s not right to turn them out for no reason other than pure meanness.”
She shook her head in disgust. “I suspect the only reason he stays at Croyden House at all is because he’d got workmen making improvements to the family’s primary residence in Kent. Rumor has it that he’s all but torn down Croyden Keep and is having it rebuilt with all sorts of improvements. That must have cost him a few farthings. I wonder he hasn’t tried to sell Croyden House to pay for it, but I suppose he doesn’t want to admit he needs the blunt.”
“Now, I really must go,” the innkeeper said. “I hope I was able to help you?”
“You were.” Caro said as she and Val rose. “Very much so. We can’t thank you enough.”
“I don’t like to think of that poor young woman missing,” Mrs. Trelawney said with a troubled look. “I hope you’re able to find her safe.”
The newlyweds walked back out to the main entrance of the inn where vehicles were lining up to deposit travelers at the door. As they stepped outside, one such carriage, highly polished and exquisitely laid out, was rolling away toward the road. Caro couldn’t be sure from this distance, but she thought there was a fox on the insignia on its left side.
“Pardon me,” she said to an ostler standing nearby. “Do you know to whom that carriage belongs? I’m sure I know the owner but I can’t think of his name.”
“That’s Lord Croyden’s carriage, milady.” The man frowned. “He’s off to London for the season. But if you don’t mind my saying so, I shouldn’t think a nice lady like yourself would have much use for him.”
This final connection felt like opening a window that had been long sealed shut.
Val soon had them back in the carriage, and they were on their way.
Inside, Val turned to Caro. “We’ve found him. Croyden must be the relative Miss Warrington was searching for. The man who wrote to her. He’s not a second son, but he’s well-known for his haranguing speeches in the Lords.”
Unable to contain her agitation, she grabbed his hand, clinging to it tightly. “Thank you for arranging this trip. I will never forget it.”
Her apologetic tone must have alerted him to her intent.
“We’re returning to London today, aren’t we?” Val gave an exaggerated sigh.
“Do not pretend that you aren’t just as eager as I am to question Lord Croyden, for I will not believe you.”
“Fine.” Val fiddled with the dangling ribbon of her hat. “I’m just as eager to speak with Croyden as you are.” His eyes narrowed. “I especially wish to know what he’s done with my cousin. For I have little doubt he’s the one who hired whoever demolished his rooms and made him disappear.”
“I believe this is the chance we’ve been waiting for.” Caro rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the full weight of relief from their discovery combine with her exhaustion from last night’s lack of sleep. Suddenly, she was unable to keep her eyes open.
“I think so, too,” she heard Val say into her hair. Then she fell fast asleep.
* * *
After returning the hired carriage and informing the hotel that they would not, after all, be staying in Brighton for the next few days, Caro and Val booked tickets back to London on the next train and were at Wrackham House by teatime.
“I’ll send a note round to Kate letting her know what we learned, and then we can leave for Croyden’s,” Caro said once she’d changed and refreshed herself. They’d stopped for a brief luncheon before boarding, and from the way she was pacing, she was ready to venture back out and beard the earl in his den.
Val, however, suspected that like Tate, Lord Croyden would not wish to discuss such a delicate matter as a family scandal before a lady. He disliked asking her to keep away from such an important interview, especially given how much he knew she’d been looking forward to questioning Croyden herself. In truth, he was damned tired of protecting the fragile feelings of misogynists at the expense of Caro’s.
“Before you argue,” he began, pulling her to sit beside him on the settee, “let me explain my reasoning.”
Her belongings had been unpacked and arranged throughout the sitting room adjacent to her bedchamber, and it looked as if she’d always lived here. The realization made him unaccountably happy. If he thought it odd that his wife had a large dollhouse furnished with tiny figures reenacting famous murder scenes, well, who was he to judge? He himself had a room dedicated to boxing, complete with a bag filled with sand affixed to the ceiling, on which he practiced pummeling when the mood struck.
She stroked Ludwig, who had leapt into her lap the moment she sat down. “This sounds like something I will dislike immensely.”
Val watched the cat with no little degree of jealousy. “It’s not as bad as that,” he reassured her. “I just think you should let Eversham and me pay a call on Croyden first.”