The Duchess Hunt Read online

  Sarah tucked her own embroidery into its basket and exchanged a glance with Esme. Was the lady ready for this? These would be the first callers since their arrival in London – odd for a duke’s sister to have so few visitors, Sarah thought, but probably not so odd for Esme, who had fewer friends in London than Sarah ever would have guessed.

  “It’ll be just fine,” Esme said, reading her thoughts. Indeed, she seemed far more relaxed than she had during the ball. Still, there was a tightness around her mouth and a stiffness in her shoulders that belied her calm.

  Moments later, the lady and her daughter were shown in.

  Miss Stanley wore a fashionable white frock with a matching, fur-trimmed pelisse. Her beauty had not diminished after the ball. Indeed, she was just as lovely in daylight, if not more so.

  Sarah watched her gaze skim over the room, taking in the light blue wallpaper, the marble hearth, the card table with a half-played game of chess, and the darker royal blue of the furniture upholstery, before her eyes came to rest on Esme. “Oh, Lady Esme, it is so good to see you apart from that crush at the ball,” she told Esme warmly.

  “Yes, it is good.” Esme gave the lady a tight smile as Sarah turned to the footman to order some refreshments. With a bow, he left the room.

  Lady Stanley, her face a mask of concern, gave Esme a full embrace, from which Esme stumbled backward, giving the woman an odd look. “Oh, my dear. We have heard. And we have come to offer our assistance in whatever form you may require.”

  “Heard?” Esme’s expression was blank.

  “The horrid news that your dear mama has disappeared, of course,” Miss Stanley said.

  Esme’s eyes widened.

  “And that no one has the faintest idea of where she’s got off to,” the baroness said.

  “Oh. That.” Esme swallowed hard. “Where did you hear that?”

  The older woman waved her hand. “Oh, you know. Word travels so quickly in our circles.”

  Esme looked over the lady’s shoulder at Sarah, who gave Esme a somber nod. They’d known this would happen eventually, and they had talked through with Simon how they would manage it.

  Sarah glanced meaningfully at the cluster of silk-upholstered seats.

  Esme gave a short nod and gestured to the sofa. “Please sit down.”

  “Why, thank you.” Lady Stanley and Miss Stanley sat beside each other on the sofa, both of them still looking appropriately troubled. Sarah wondered if their concern was genuine. If it wasn’t, they certainly did a very good job of pretending.

  When Esme and Sarah had taken their seats in the armchairs across from the sofa, the baroness leaned forward. “Please tell me what happened. I’ve been able to think of nothing else since I heard the dreadful news.”

  Esme’s chest rose and fell with a great breath as she prepared to speak. When she did, the words were careful and measured, and very close to what Simon had told her she should say. “Well, you see, my mother is prone to whimsy. As most everyone knows.”

  “Oh, yes,” Lady Stanley said. “Even though we are neighbors, we have never been friends, which is a true shame. Though every time I have met your dear mama, I have seen how personable she is. But I have oft heard of her eccentricities as well.”

  “She supports many charity ventures across England, and even in Scotland,” Esme continued. “And we have concluded that she must be off overseeing one of them.” She shrugged. “We believe she merely forgot to tell us.”

  “Oh, how vexing!” Miss Stanley exclaimed.

  “Indeed it is,” Esme said gravely. “We are doing everything we can to locate her, just in case it is not what we think. But none of us is concerned.” She raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. “That is Mama, after all.”

  Well done, Esme, thought Sarah. While Esme certainly wasn’t as easy now as she was when alone in Sarah’s company, at least she had been able to speak to the Stanleys politely. And in complete sentences. Furthermore, she’d handled relaying the situation regarding her mother with a calmness that would have made Simon proud.

  “Well, it does seem extremely odd that she simply disappeared,” Lady Stanley said. “Did she take servants with her?”

  “She did. Two of them.”

  “Well, that is reassuring. May I ask what measures you are taking to find her?”

  “Of course. It’s quite simple, really. The duke has been searching here in London while my other brothers are searching in various places in England.”

  “Oh, I am quite certain His Grace will find her!” Miss Stanley exclaimed.

  Sarah glanced at the young woman. She seemed in earnest, her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her blue eyes shining.

  A pair of maids entered with refreshments at that moment, and Sarah busied herself pouring tea for everyone. Esme and Lady Stanley took their cups with thanks, but Miss Stanley hardly looked at Sarah when she handed her the cup. Sarah was accustomed to being invisible to those outside the family as a housemaid, but since she had been elevated to lady’s companion she had been treated with general politeness, and to be so blatantly ignored now gave her an odd, uncomfortable feeling.

  “Well, if we can do anything, anything at all, you won’t hesitate to let us know, will you?” the baroness asked.

  “Of course,” Esme said. “But truly, my brothers will find her. There’s naught to worry over.”

  “I am so happy to hear that,” the older woman said. “Indeed, I had heard otherwise.”

  Sarah felt the muscles in her shoulders stiffen. Esme frowned. “Oh? What have you heard?”

  “It’s probably nothing.” When both Esme and Sarah simply stared at her, she added, “You know… gossip.” She blew out a breath through her closed lips as if in exasperation.

  “What kind of gossip?” Sarah finally asked. “Please do tell us.”

  Miss Stanley gazed uneasily at her mother.

  “Well…” The older woman gave a dramatic pause. “Evidently, your brothers are concerned that she was murdered.”

  Silence. Then Sarah and Esme spoke at once.

  “No evidence points to such a conclusion, my lady,” Sarah said.

  “Where have you heard that?” Esme asked.

  Lady Stanley took a sip of her tea. Following her lead, her daughter raised her cup to her lips as well. Lowering her cup into its saucer, the baroness said, “My son is at Cambridge. He is acquainted with your brother, Lord Theodore. I received a letter from him this morning stating that Lord Theodore has taken him into his confidence and shared his and your other brothers’ fears about the fate of your mother. My son, of course, is extremely concerned, as we all are.”

  “He exaggerated!” Esme exclaimed. “Theo has no such belief. He would have told me.”

  Miss Stanley’s eyes narrowed on her. “My brother never exaggerates.”

  Esme shook her head mulishly. “And my brothers would have shared it with me if they harbored such concerns.”

  Would they? Sarah wasn’t so sure. The brothers didn’t want to worry Esme – she was already terribly fearful that something horrific had happened to the duchess. Still, she knew Theo. He was almost as reserved as Esme herself, and Sarah hadn’t ever heard that he and Mr. Stanley were friends. It seemed unlikely he’d take Mr. Stanley into his confidence like that.

  Lady Stanley gave a tight smile. “Now, girls. Georgina, you mustn’t quarrel – we are guests here.” She looked at Esme. “A misunderstanding, surely.”

  “Surely,” Esme agreed, but her cheeks were flushed and her hands clenched over the sleek wooden arms of her chair.

  Sarah racked her brain to think of something to smooth things over. “Would anyone like a lemon tart?” she asked brightly, reaching for the plate the maid had brought. Lady Stanley and her daughter swiveled to give her blank looks.

  They were saved from answering by a knock on the door. Esme swung around. “Come in.”

  A footman entered. “My lady, there is a Mrs. French here from the Ogilvy School for the Blind to se
e you.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed the baroness. “Ogilvy is one of the duchess’s charities, of course.”

  “A school for the blind?” Miss Stanley said incredulously, as if she’d never heard of such a thing. “But why would one bother to educate the blind?”

  The baroness shrugged. “Well, my dear, as we discussed earlier, the Duchess of Trent did have her eccentricities.” Setting her tea aside, she rose. “Come, Georgina. It is time for us to go. We are off to see Lady Morgan next.”

  Miss Stanley obediently rose, while Sarah stood more slowly, burning deep within at how the baroness had spoken of the duchess in the past tense.

  She was glad for the interruption. A new visitor meant the current ones were given the cue to leave, and she was glad to be rid of the Stanleys. Not very many people caused her discomfort, but the baroness and her daughter certainly had succeeded in making her feel ill at ease.

  “Good-bye, Lady Esme.” Miss Stanley gathered Esme’s hands in her own. “I am sure we shall see each other often over the next months… and even more often after that. We shall be great friends.”

  “Er… right,” Esme said, and Sarah hid her smile. It seemed Esme felt the same about the Stanleys as she did.

  Sarah curtsied and wished them a good afternoon, and the two ladies left.

  Esme and Sarah hardly had a chance to exchange a relieved glance before Mrs. French entered. She was a tall, thin woman with gray-streaked black hair and thick spectacles. She held a flat leather satchel. Upon entering, she bowed low, clutching the satchel against her chest.

  “Lady Esme. You might not remember me, but we were briefly introduced last year.”

  “Of course I remember you, Mrs. French. Mama and I visited your school and witnessed what an excellent job you have done with your pupils.”

  The woman flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Esme gestured to Sarah. “This is Miss Osborne. Miss Osborne, this is Mrs. French, the headmistress of the Ogilvy School for the Blind.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Sarah had heard about Mrs. French and her school from the duchess, who had been very pleased with the strides the headmistress had made in training and ultimately finding sustaining employment for her blind students.

  “Would you like some tea?” Esme led the woman toward the sofa. “A lemon tart, perhaps?” Sarah noted that with this woman, Esme didn’t need to be reminded of the common courtesies like she had with the Stanleys. Or maybe she just felt the slender woman could use the food.

  “Oh, no thank you, my lady. I cannot stay long.” Mrs. French perched on the edge of the royal blue sofa, laying her satchel beside her.

  Sarah and Esme resumed their seats across from her. “I recall that you were commencing a program of teaching some of the more talented girls to sew. How is that faring?”

  “Very well, my lady. Indeed, we have just had our first young lady hired as a seamstress here in Town.”

  Esme clasped her hands over her heart. “Well done, Mrs. French. I knew it would be a successful endeavor. My mother would be so proud to hear it.”

  “Why, thank you,” Mrs. French said. There was a long pause, and then Mrs. French gulped and said, “I have come to see you today because I have heard that our benefactor the duchess is… er… indisposed.”

  Esme’s voice turned sharp. “Is that so? What have you heard of my mother being indisposed?”

  Mrs. French clasped her hands hard in her lap. “The Times reported this morning that she is missing. Shocking news, indeed, and I am very sorry to hear it.”

  “The Times, you say?” Esme glanced at Sarah, who shook her head in bewilderment.

  “His Grace left early this morning,” she told Esme. When Sarah woke, two hours before Esme, Simon had already been gone. “Surely if he read it before he left the house, he would have warned us.”

  Esme turned her focus back to Mrs. French. “But why has this information compelled you to come to see me today?”

  Mrs. French wrung her hands. “I’m so sorry.” She rose abruptly. “I should not have come. It is not a good time for you —”

  “Please sit, Mrs. French, and tell me why you came.”

  At that moment, Sarah saw a rare side of Esme that reminded her of Simon. That side that could command and lead.

  Mrs. French abruptly sat down again. She opened the satchel on her lap and withdrew a sheet of parchment.

  “It is all here, my lady,” she said in a strangled voice. “The rents are due, and we haven’t the funds to pay. The duchess wrote a promissory note for the amount of the rents. She assured me the funds would be sent in mid-April in time to pay the rents by the thirtieth, but…” She shook her head, not quite meeting Esme’s eyes. “I am so sorry, but we haven’t received them. We haven’t enough in reserve to pay the amount due. We have acquired ten new students due to the outbreak of rheumatic fever in Holborn, and we’ve a new teacher to pay, and no means of paying the rents unless the duchess can help us.”

  She stopped speaking. Esme and Sarah stared at her, speechless. The thirtieth of April was the day after tomorrow.

  Finally, Esme asked, “How much is it?”

  “Seventy-four pounds, six shillings, my lady.”

  That amount was twice the sum Sarah made in a year at Ironwood Park as head housemaid.

  Esme blew out a breath. “May I see the document?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. French rose to hand Esme the sheet.

  Esme studied it for long, quiet moments, then she passed it to Sarah.

  It was true – the Duchess of Trent had promised a hundred pounds to the Ogilvy School for the Blind by April fifteenth to cover the rents and other incidentals – presumably, in this case, the new teacher. Sarah recognized the flourish of the duchess’s signature at the bottom of the sheet adjacent to another signature she didn’t recognize.

  Sarah slid Esme a glance. Esme was only nineteen years old, and Sarah knew that she had no access to those kinds of funds. Her fortune had been held in trust since her birth, and her brother managed her finances.

  Esme surprised her again. “I shall have the amount promised delivered by tomorrow morning. The duke and I will ensure your school remains doing its good work, Mrs. French. Please do not spend another second worrying over it. I am so thankful you came to me.”

  When Simon arrived home that afternoon, Sarah and Esme explained the situation at the Ogilvy School for the Blind, and Simon arranged for the funds to be sent that very evening. To Simon, this served as disturbing proof that his mother hadn’t planned her disappearance. If she had, she would have taken care of details like this before she’d left. His mother might be flighty, but she was rarely irresponsible in matters such as these.

  Later, as they all sat down to dinner, he confirmed that the news of the Duchess of Trent’s disappearance had traveled all over London.

  “I am sorry the Stanleys surprised you like that,” Simon told them. “I would have brought word to you sooner, but it was a busy day, and I’d no idea you’d be inundated with visitors.” Inwardly, he chastised himself. He should have thought of that, knowing what he did of the vultures who inhabited London society.

  “Esme handled it beautifully,” Sarah said.

  He smiled at his sister, then looked down at his plate to spear a piece of beef with his fork. “There is more news, or non-news, I suppose I should say.”

  The search for his mother had only resulted in non-news since he’d arrived in London. It was as though she’d disappeared without a trace, and his level of frustration increased with every day that passed with no gains made toward locating her.

  “Oh?” Sarah asked. Esme just laid her fork down and waited.

  “I received letters from both Mark and Theo.”

  The two young women watched him, waiting.

  “Neither has found any information relating to our mother.”

  The breath left Esme in a whoosh. Sarah gave a low groan.

  “Theo has begun t
he term at Cambridge,” Simon continued. “Mark has completed his investigations at Ironwood Park” – he’d even supervised the dragging of the lake, which had resulted in nothing but waterweeds, thank God – “and he’s traveling north to continue his search at Lake Windermere.”

  “What about Sam?” Esme asked.

  “I haven’t heard from him, but I know he’s been occupied with his duties for the Crown. I doubt we’ll hear anything unless he discovers something of note.”

  He glanced at Sarah. She was dressed simply, in one of her old white muslin dresses. For jewelry she wore only a strand of small paste pearls around her neck. Splashes of color on her cheeks spoke of her vivacity. Her dark hair, piled on her head haphazardly, with curling locks tumbling to frame her face, shone under the lamplight. Her blue eyes, fringed by dark lashes and full of compassion and concern, met his, and he caught his breath. She was a beacon of light. Of peace.

  He wanted to kiss her again. No, he wanted more. He wanted all of her. To take that sweet light into him and hold it there.

  When it came to Sarah, something inside him was wolfish. Predatory. Constantly assessing and calculating how to best conquer her. Reminding him that she seemed willing enough, so conquering her might be a mere matter of simple seduction.

  Ever since they’d arrived in London, he’d waged a battle against these base needs of his darker nature every single time he saw her, but she seemed not to fear them. She embraced them.

  Which only made him want her more.

  Chapter Seven

  In late May, Sarah and Esme went to the modiste’s for their final round of fittings. By the time they left the dress shop, they’d loaded the carriage with several new dresses along with accessories: hats, gloves, stockings, slippers, and even hairpins. It was late afternoon, and Esme was in high spirits.

  “Madame Buillard said a gold bracelet would go nicely with my new opera dress,” Esme said. “Let’s go to the jewelers.”

  They walked side by side, occasionally having to move aside to make way for other pedestrians – the streets in this part of London were very busy. The footman who’d accompanied them to the modiste’s this morning walked a few paces behind.