Chapter 2

2

W hat do you mean, gone ?” Nicholas Prescott , the seventh Marquess of Rockliffe , practically shouted the words while a cavernous pit formed in his stomach.

“ Well , she …” The butler, Barrington , flushed to the roots of his thinning hair, fiddling with the cravat about his neck that appeared unusually dust-stained. “ She wasn’t in her rooms when Mrs . Connelly brought up her tea, and while I can assure you that we’ve since done an extensive search of the house and gardens, no one can find her, my lord.”

“ Damn it!” Nicholas’s voice rose another notch, just as his stomach sank even lower. “ Why was she not supervised more carefully?”

Rather than wait for another of Barrington’s simpering responses, Nicholas brushed past him, marching across the entrance hall’s marble tiles and flinging open the door. For all the good that would do. Before him stretched the front drive, surrounded by an expanse of perfectly clipped but vacant grass and shrubs. Of course she wasn’t here or someone would have spotted her already.

“ Damn .” He uttered the oath again, this time under his breath. From the moment he’d pulled up in front of Beaumont Manor several hours prior, the day had become nothing less than headache-inducing. The house, full of furniture to be rearranged and rooms to be aired, was in disarray. The servants wouldn’t stop asking him questions about how he wanted things organized.

But this … this latest development went farther than a mere aggravation. This was beyond bearing.

“ Get me a horse.” He spun back into the entrance hall, fixing Barrington with a glower that unquestionably meant now .

With a brisk tip of his head, the butler vanished, leaving Nicholas alone to release a shuddering breath. Yet no sooner had the man rushed off than Mrs . Connelly , the housekeeper, stepped out of the shadows, looking even more red-faced than Barrington . “ I’m so sorry, my lord, for?—”

“ Keep looking.” Nicholas snapped his shoulders upright, pressing his mouth into a tight line. “ I want every member of this household to continue searching both the rooms and grounds until she turns up. Have a groom at the ready to come locate me if there are any new developments. I’ll ride toward the village in case there’s any sign of her there.”

“ Of course, my lord.” Mrs . Connelly bowed her graying head, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes shimmered with the threat of unshed tears. “ I really am sorry?—”

“ I don’t need apologies.” Nicholas turned and threw open the door again, sparing a single glance over his shoulder before rushing outside. “ Just find her.”

He raced down the steps to a drive that remained infuriatingly empty. Why wasn’t his horse here yet? Yes , he’d given the order only moments earlier, but that didn’t make his impatience any less profound. Why did everything have to take so long, with each agonizing second feeling more like an hour?

The faint sound of hooves pounding against grass echoed in the distance, and he pressed his hand to his forehead as a shield against the sun, surveying the landscape until he caught sight of his black gelding, Merlin , bounding up from the direction of the stables.

Rather than wait, he sprinted toward the horse. An action that would save him little time, but doing something was far preferable to standing idle while more seconds dragged by.

They met partway across the lawn, and he scarcely gave the startled groom a chance to pull Merlin to a halt and jump to the ground before snatching the reins into his fist and vaulting onto the horse’s back.

“ If there’s anything else you need, my lord.” The groom looked up at him hesitantly as Nicholas adjusted himself in the saddle. “ I’m sorry about what happ?—”

“ Get on a horse yourself and search the park.”

Nicholas didn’t wait for a response before taking off at a gallop toward the drive. He’d been a stranger to the estate for a long time, but he and Merlin became quickly reacquainted, the horse displaying the same speed and agility that had enticed Nicholas to purchase him from Tattersall’s in the first place.

Sometime after they raced through the front gates of Beaumont Manor , it occurred to him that if they continued traveling at such a tear, he wouldn’t see Emily even if he did happen to pass her. Likewise , maybe he shouldn’t have been so hasty back at the house, either. He could have taken a moment to form a cohesive plan. To ensure each member of the staff knew what was expected of them so they could search as efficiently as possible.

However , snapping at others and then rushing off was far easier than leaving time to confront his fear. Not to mention his inadequacy. He could rage at the staff all he wanted, but in the end, this was another link in his long chain of failures.

With reluctance, he pulled Merlin back to a canter so he could examine the surrounding fields, feeling the weight of the situation punch him in the gut as strongly as when Barrington had first broken the news. There was no gentle way to repeat it to himself.

After barely three hours back in Kent , he’d lost his twelve-year-old daughter.

He turned his head from one side of the road to the other, seeking any flickers of motion in the tall grass. Emily couldn’t have gone far … could she? She still had so little strength. Then again, one could never underestimate the power of tenacity. At least he could rest secure in the knowledge that the stagecoach didn’t come through the village until later in the day, should she have her sights set on a grand escape. Yet the idea brought little comfort.

Hadn’t his mother warned him about this? His fingers tightened around the reins until he felt a crack in his joints. It would be folly, she’d insisted in a voice that garnered no protest, to rush away from London so quickly after their lengthy journey. He should take time to reestablish himself in society before the Season came to an end. To prove that the Prescotts were so much greater than scandal. Besides , the extended stay in London would benefit Emily , too. Give her a chance to rest before another period of upheaval. Allow her to be close to the family’s longtime physician should his services be required. Provide Nicholas an opportunity to arrange for a suitable nursemaid or governess, for the sooner Emily regained some order in her life, the better.

If anything, his mother’s insistence they stay had made him that much more determined to leave. Society and their gossip could go hang as far as he was concerned. He didn’t need the ton gawking at him, just as Emily didn’t need more prodding by the physician. All they required was country air and a quiet place to move on from the shambles of the past, where they could try to rebuild a vague sense of normalcy.

Yet as he continued his frantic journey down the road, with not another person in sight, doubt clawed at his insides. The Dowager Marchioness of Rockliffe was the last person on earth from whom he would ever accept advice, but that didn’t stop her proclamation from buzzing repeatedly like a gnat that had gotten trapped in his ear: Emily needs order .

Had he taken the time to employ a caregiver who could provide that, perhaps she wouldn’t have disappeared.

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, forcing his tight fingers to unclench. This wasn’t the time to get tangled up in regrets. What good did that ever do? He needed to keep a level head, to search systematically. Damn it, he just needed to find her.

In the distance, a flutter of white peeked out from behind the sturdy trunk of a lone elm. Nicholas blinked away the dust that stung his eyes, focusing on that inconspicuous spot to the side of the field. The white patch remained, fluttering like a flag in the breeze.

Except not a flag. It was a hair ribbon.

He drove Merlin forward the instant he made the connection, the horse’s powerful legs suddenly unable to move fast enough for his liking. They thundered over gravel, veering to the right side of the road and into the field.

Where he suddenly slowed again, his chest seizing and then flooding with relief. Emmy . His daughter’s thin, muslin-clad frame reclined against the tree trunk, an orange bundle heaped upon her lap. And she wasn’t alone. An unfamiliar woman sat beside her, her voluminous black dress a contrast to Emily’s white one.

But most pertinently— Emily was speaking to her. Not sulking, not uttering sullen, one-word responses, but engaged in a conversation, her voice an indistinct hum that floated toward him on the breeze.

He watched the incongruous scene an instant longer before pushing on. Merlin’s resultant whinny caused Emily’s wan face to fly up in surprise, and the stranger beside her adopted an equivalent look of shock as he ground to a stop beside the tree.

He jumped to the grass, his chest burning with the effort of drawing air into his overworked lungs. Ignoring the ache, he rushed forward a couple steps before abruptly halting. Emily still stared at him, although her astonishment had transformed into a tight-lipped glower.

“ Emily …” He managed her name between breaths, although an appropriate speech to follow failed him. The right words didn’t seem to exist as far as she was concerned.

She held his gaze a moment longer, her amber eyes containing a hint of challenge. And then, before another sound could cross his lips, she turned her head to the ground, giving him the cut direct as effectively as the most practiced society matrons from Almack’s .

So , that’s how it was to be. Not that he should feel surprised. His shoulders, temporarily relieved of tension, grew rigid once more.

He brought his eyes down to her lap, where her hand traveled in rhythmic motions over the bundle atop her skirts. A bundle, it would appear, that wasn’t an inanimate object but an overlarge tabby cat. Whereas Emily would no longer condescend to look at him, the creature took up glaring in her stead as if it couldn’t imagine anything more offensive than his presence.

Which had to be due, at least in part, to his imagination, surely. He frowned, returning the yellow-eyed stare. Emily’s disdain had grown familiar, but this was a cat , for Christ’s sake.

A growl rumbled in the animal’s throat, and it bared its teeth, emitting a hiss.

Point taken . He’d antagonized his daughter and an unknown feline alike.

He tightened his hands into fists, fighting the urge to growl in frustration himself and bang his head against the tree trunk. Then again, if he dared get any closer to the tree, the monstrosity of a cat was apt to sink its claws into his leg and not let go.

The grass rustled, and a black-gloved hand reached up to grab one of the low-lying branches. The woman . Nicholas had become so caught up with approaching Emily —and the distasteful creature she’d befriended—that the stranger’s presence had faded into the background. However , she was very much still here, whispering a few words in his daughter’s ear and then using the branch to pull herself to her feet. She brushed the stray bits of grass from her skirts and stepped out of the tree’s shade and into the sunlight, bending into a curtsey. “ My lord.”

He tilted his head, watching as her body stretched back up to its full height. She wore the heavy black clothing of mourning, her dress so stiff and large that the fabric looked ready to consume her. Beyond that, there was nothing particularly remarkable about her. She was neither short nor tall, her features neither plain nor striking. Her tightly knotted hair, uncovered by a bonnet, was an ordinary shade of brown. Her eyes didn’t stand out as being one definitive color but rather a combination of muted blue, green, and gray.

And even so, there was something that sparked in his brain, almost like a faint flare of recognition. “ Are we acquainted?”

“ No , my lord.” She answered him at once, and something—either a flush, or the angle at which the sunrays hit her as she shook her head—brightened her cheeks.

She sounded so certain, yet the declaration didn’t sit right with him. She’d recognized him, after all. “ And what is your name?”

“ Miss Phoebe Windham , my lord.”

Phoebe Windham . It didn’t ring familiar. “ Do you live in Bowden , Miss Windham ?”

“ No .” She paused, her fingers going to her sleeve to flick away a blade of grass she’d missed. “ I’ve been but an occasional visitor over the years, imposing on my aunt and uncle’s kindness. My uncle is Martin Buxton , the vicar. I believe you and I may have spotted one another in church one time.”

No , that wasn’t it, either. He’d kept his visits to Beaumont Manor to a minimum over the past decade and his visits to church less frequent still. He remembered the vicar, his wife, and their brood of children well enough, but this woman was an anomaly.

“ I was pleased to make the acquaintance of a young lady while I was out on my walk today.” She motioned toward Emily , putting his musings to an abrupt end. “ We both found the heat a trifle exhausting, I’m afraid, and she was kind enough to come sit with me in the shade. Marigold and I are quite in her debt.”

Marigold ? The ball of fur readjusted itself in Emily’s lap, swishing its giant orange tail across the grass, and it was all he could do to keep from scoffing. What a ridiculous name for such an ornery animal. But it suddenly made little difference, for her speech caused Emily to look up at her new companion, giving her something that nearly resembled a smile. An expression that had been all but nonexistent upon her face over the past months.

A muscle clenched in his chest, the sensation painful but not unwelcome. “ And I am in your debt, Miss Windham , for seeing to my daughter.”

He heard her quick intake of breath. Followed her gaze as it flitted once more to Emily , still contentedly stroking the cat while ignoring his existence, and back up to him. “ Of … of course.”

They both stood unmoving in their positions upon the grass, and however nondescript the color of her eyes, he found he couldn’t look away from them. It was high time he got Emily home so they could put this latest upset behind them, yet his mind wouldn’t stop turning over questions like he possessed a puzzle in need of solving. Somehow , Miss Windham held the answer, and he couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

“ And where do you make your home if not in Bowden ?” he asked, steering the conversation back to its original path.

“ I …” She was no longer looking quite at him but beyond him, and for the first time, he noticed shadows beneath her eyes. Marks of someone whose worries kept them up late into the night and left them restless the next day. He knew the look well, for it confronted him each time he happened upon a mirror. “ I acted as a companion to my late father’s cousin in Bath ,” she said. “ Now that she has passed on, I’m not certain where I’ll establish myself or seek employment. It happened less than a month ago, and I’m still working out arrangements.”

“ My condolences.” The empty phrase, so often directed his way over the past year, crossed his lips easily. In truth, though, his mind was far from death and sympathy but contemplating another idea entirely. “ If you have no place else to go, will you not stay with your family at the vicarage a while?”

It should make no difference to him. However , he found a strange comfort in imagining the woman who made Emily smile residing just a short distance away.

“ No .” Again , she jumped on the word, her chin making a slight quivering motion. “ No , I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’ll be leaving shortly. Just as I should now take my leave of you and Em — Lady Emily and allow you to carry on with your day.”

No . How absurd that the word rose in his throat, that the first thing he could think of was enticing her to stay.

Although perhaps not so absurd after all. The question of why Miss Windham , with her giant black dress and ordinary features, tugged at his memory remained a mystery. But as for the rest of the puzzle, a solution was beginning to take shape.

“ Come to Beaumont Manor .”

Her lips parted, and she made another of those brisk, breathy sounds. “ I beg your pardon?”

“ I want to speak with you further, Miss Windham . I have a proposition that goes beyond what I wish to discuss in the middle of a field.”

Her boots poked out from beneath her heavy black hem, tapping uncertainly against the grass. Her cheeks were coloring again, her gently sloped brows rising in curiosity.

Until all at once, her expression became guarded, and she gave her head a decided shake. “ I cannot?—”

“ Emily .” He chanced a step forward, and when the world didn’t erupt into chaos, he ducked and took another one so that he and his daughter shared the same shade beneath the tree. If Miss Windham felt disinclined to jump at the invitation, he wasn’t above adopting methods of persuasion. “ Would you like your new friend to come for tea?”

Emily didn’t look at him—not that that came as any great surprise. However , she did tilt her head upward, exactly where he needed it to go: toward Miss Windham . Emily’s face had yet to shed the gauntness acquired during her illness, making her eyes stand out against her pale skin like two saucers. Dark , shining, and doleful. Difficult to refuse.

She didn’t speak to Miss Windham , either, but she gave an unmistakable little nod. Another hint of a half-smile.

While Miss Windham had horrid taste in pets, she didn’t come across as cantankerous and hard-hearted herself. Indeed , her resolve seemed to crumble in a heartbeat, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, a flash of white against pink. Alluring .

He diverted his eyes instantly, down to the high neck and long sleeves of her sack-like mourning dress. The picture of solemnity and modesty. Ah , perhaps that was the problem . “ If you’d like to go home first and fetch a chaperone,” he said, “ I’ll send my carriage to the vicarage to collect you both.”

“ That won’t be necessary.” She released her lip, and it was only when she pinched her mouth into a tight line that he realized how plump and rosy it had appeared when she wasn’t concealing it. She crossed her hands in front of her, the fingers of one glove drumming against the other in silent deliberation before coming to a halt. And then, he heard it. The softest sigh of acquiescence. “ If you and Lady Emily go home on horseback, I’ll follow on foot.”

“ Very well.” He made a brusque motion with his chin, solidifying the arrangement before she had a chance to rethink her decision. Then , he turned to the tree trunk, extending a hand to Emily . “ Let’s go now. As Miss Windham said, she’ll follow.”

For one hopeful moment, his daughter examined the glove he offered her, and he almost thought he’d done well enough that she would accept it. Yet in the next instant, she was grabbing hold of a low-lying branch just like Miss Windham had done, using it for support as she shakily rose to her feet.

She favored him with a glance when she’d righted herself, alerting him that he hadn’t turned invisible, at least. However , there was no warmth in it, only the same note of challenge, daring him to confront her.

The leafy branches blocked out the sun, casting her face in shadows, and his mind flashed backward until suddenly, all he could see was her mother. Not because their appearances were overtly similar, but because there was a parallel in the way they both looked at him. Specifically , in the way Cecilia had looked at him on that night so many years ago as she’d paced the darkened bedchamber, half yelling and half crying, a mixture of outrage and devastation potent enough to set the house ablaze. You cannot blame me. I never set out to deceive you. This was forced upon us. I didn’t choose it !

White skirts billowed as Emily pivoted into the sunlight, making Cecilia vanish and only a petulant twelve-year-old girl remain. His hand clenched again, and he gave himself a moment to catch his breath and watch her retreat. On an encouraging note, she shuffled over to Merlin and stopped at the horse’s side. That much wouldn’t be a fight, anyway.

Something brushed against his leg, and his body jerked, his eyes darting downward. That damn demon of a feline, displaced from Emily’s lap, had the gall to sidle up to him, leaving a trail of fur across his boots.

He shook his foot, warning it away, and the spurned creature opened its mouth, voicing its displeasure with another aggrieved hiss.

“ To hell with you,” he muttered, quietly enough that there was no chance of the curse reaching his daughter’s ears.

Then , he stepped out from under the shade of the tree, striding over to Emily and Merlin so they could make their way home without delay. Stopping briefly at Miss Windham’s side to affirm the plan. “ Good day. We’ll expect you shortly. Oh , and Miss Windham ?”

He forced away a scowl, hating himself for what he was about to say. Realizing it was a necessary evil. “ You’d best bring along the cat.”