Page 31 of Fortune’s Final Folly

“Yes, but…what?” She wanted to scream after him.

Kate’s mind went over and over the many nights she’d stared down from her window, watching the lights extinguish in his office and waiting to catch a quick glimpse of Joshua before he climbed into his coach and headed off into the invading twilight. She longed to know where he went, what he did, and who he spent the long nights with. Her cheeks blossomed with heat at the many times she’d dreamt of running down the stairs, into the street, and hopping into his coach before it rolled away. There had been so many times she’d caught his eye as he walked across the street and wished to wave him inside her schoolroom. There had been ample time for them to become better acquainted, but neither of them had crossed the invisible line that’d kept them separated without either of them realizing it.

Now, she had answers to at least two of those musings. He came to Cavendish Square, and he remained alone.

As she had each and every night since her parents’ passing.

They were more similar than anyone would expect.

And Kate had a feeling Joshua relished being alone about as much as she did…

Which meant, not at all.

Chapter 10

Zeta clutched the missive in her hand as she took hold of her satchel, stuffed with all her worldly possessions. It had never mattered to her that she had nearly nothing to call her own. Her years with the caravan had been about mutual survival for everyone, not about each individual. But that time was gone now—there was something that belonged to her, and only her.

And it was past time she reclaimed what was hers.

With Lavinia’s passing the previous spring, Zeta had nearly given up hope of ever finding Katherina. The harsh winter that’d followed had seen the entire caravan stranded near the Scottish border with few supplies. Thankfully, the snowstorm had passed after a few days, and the high snow drifts had melted with a swiftness Zeta had never witnessed in all her years traveling the land. Since then, they’d spent the year near Westmorland in an area that was more accepting of their vagabond existence.

Zeta had sent a letter to Augusta at Shrewbury, as she often did when she found herself in a town for longer than a fortnight or two. Yet, in the last seven years, she’d never gotten any word back from the maid. Which only meant that nothing had changed. Katherina’s whereabouts were still unknown. Zeta refused to believe that it meant anything else. She had to trust that Augusta was still employed at Shrewbury and that she remained focused on locating Katherina.

With blessed relief, Zeta’s trust in the woman had finally come to fruition.

A letter had arrived with the afternoon mail coach from Manchester, much to Zeta’s utter disbelief. In it was the information she’d been waiting for all these years.

She walked to the far side of the wagon where her horse waited, saddled, and ready to depart. Hefting her satchel up onto the horse’s back, she tied the bag tight for her long ride, checking to make sure she’d tucked her provisions inside as well as the spare coins the group had collected for her journey.

Normally, they all traveled together, but there was no time to ready everyone and make the four-day journey by wagon. Time was imperative, and it never failed that a wheel would break, or a horse would go lame. Zeta cared for everyone, but this was her journey to make, and she could not have anything slowing her down. They all understood and supported her decision.

Zeta—no, her name was A’laya, and she needed to get used to it again—took in the gathered men and women around her. Some had been part of the caravan before her, while others joined over the years. Regardless, each and every one held a special place in her heart.

“Ye shall return if ye doona be find’n her?” Charlie asked. The man was young but capable. He’d taken on the task of hunter for the group, and since he’d come to them, they’d never gone without food. “We will wait here for ye ‘til the cold hits…then we travel to Liverpool.”

Earlier, she’d begged them to do what was best for them, not wait in Westmorland for her return. Because, if what Augusta had written was correct, A’laya would not be returning. The caravan was a fiercely loyal lot, and she’d always appreciated their dedication…but her time with them was at an end, even if Charlie and the others were not immediately accepting of the fact.

The mare stomped her hoof, and A’laya’s heartbeat increased, her nervousness matching the beast’s anticipation even as her body ached already thinking of the long ride ahead. She’d asked to take the youngest horse for the journey, knowing the broader ones were needed to pull the wagons. The mare had also proven fast with the endurance required to make the trip quickly.

Tucking Augusta’s letter into her pocket, A’laya gave hugs all around, knowing that this might very well be the final time she saw any of them. Next, she mounted her mare and looked down the long road ahead of her.

It was late September, and the weather would be warm.

She had enough coin in her satchel to find a room for the night where she could bathe and prepare for the final day’s ride into London.

She waved to the caravan and prodded her horse into action as she leaned close to the beast’s neck. They flew South to Stuart and Lords, Solicitors, near Bond Street. Augusta had written of a young clerk who’d arrived at Shrewbury seeking the duke. The butler had turned the man away, and he’d started back toward London, but not before Augusta had detained the clerk for a private word.

He’d carried a letter with him, addressed to the Duke of Shrewbury from a Lord Joshua Stuart, Solicitor on behalf of one Miss Katherina Elliott.

Her daughter!

The old duke had spoken the name Elliott all those years ago. She’d been unable to trace a family with the name, but now she knew they were in London, or at least their solicitor was.

The wind whipped at A’laya’s hair, and her cheeks grew moist as tears of utter joy slipped down her face to be carried off on the breeze.

This solicitor knew A’laya’s daughter, but how well? What could he have been writing the duke about? Had her daughter known of the treachery surrounding her disappearance from A’laya’s arms?

There were so many questions. But A’laya felt in her heart that the man held the answers she needed.