A Lady of His Own (Bastion Club 3) - Page 102

The moment itself was enough.

Eventually he sighed, and stirred. “I suppose we’d better go down. It must be time to dress for dinner.” With a reluctance that showed, he drew down her skirts, sat her up, then rearranged his clothes.

She tweaked her blouse and jacket back into place, decided the wild ride would excuse her hair. She stood, and her knees gave way.

He’d been watching; he grasped her hips, steadied her, then stood and offered his arm. Met her gaze as she took it. “You obviously need more practice.”

Another laugh bubbled up. “I’ll think about it.”

She thought she’d had the last word, but as he handed her down the steps, he murmured, “Do.”

Wicked promise and arrogant warning combined.

They remounted and ambled down and around into the stable yard. Canter came himself, reporting that there’d been no action through the day.

Much he knew. She refused to meet Charles’s eyes as he lifted her down. Taking his arm, they strolled, not as quickly as usual, into the house.

He saw her to her room, then continued down the corridor to his.

Still pleasantly aglow, she sighed, and rang for Ellie. Sitting on her dressing stool, she unpinned her hair, brushed it, then slowly, wits drifting, re-coiled it.

Only then did she realize Ellie hadn’t appeared.

That was such a strange occurrence, she rose and went to the door. Opening it, she headed for the back stairs. Reaching the landing, she heard voices; peering over the balustrade, she saw Figgs patting Ellie’s shoulder firmly, but the look on Figgs’s face was distracted.

“I know, ma’am.” Ellie hiccupped. “I’ll go right up.”

Ellie had obviously been crying.

“What’s the matter?” Penny went quickly down the stairs. “Is something wrong?”

Figgs and Ellie straightened; they exchanged glances, then Figgs faced Penny as she stepped onto the tiled floor. “It’s Mary, my lady. The parlor tweeny. She went out last evening—I thought it was for a walk to meet Tom Biggs down by the stable, but Tom didn’t see her, and Ellie thinks Mary went to meet some other new fellow.”

“And?” Penny prompted when Figgs fell silent.

“Mary didn’t come home last night. We’ve been expecting her any hour, but then we thought maybe one of her brothers had come and met her while she was out and called her urgently home, or something of the sort.” Figgs sighed, and met Penny’s eyes. “We sent a lad and he’s just got back—Mary’s family hasn’t seen her either, not since her last day off.”

A cold, black vise closed about Penny’s stomach. “No one’s seen her since she left last night?”

“No, my lady. And she’s not the sort to do such a thing—not at all. And her things are still here—she didn’t take anything with her.”

Penny looked at Ellie, woebegone and clearly imagining the worst. “Did Mary say anything about this man she went to meet?”

“Not particular, m’lady. Just that he was tall and ’and-some, and not in the usual way of things.”

Figgs drew in a breath. “We was wondering, my lady, Norr

is and me, whether we should tell his lordship?”

Nicholas wouldn’t have the first idea what to do, but it was now his house, or at least his father’s. Penny nodded. “Yes, tell Lord Arbry.” Lips firming, she turned back to the stairs. “And I’ll tell Lord Charles.”

“Indeed, my lady.” Figgs’s relief rang clearly. “Do you want Ellie to attend you now, ma’am?”

Penny glanced back at the wilting Ellie. “Just bring my washing water and lay out a plain gown. I’ll change after I’ve spoken with Lord Charles.”

Figgs and Ellie bobbed, and turned back to the kitchens.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Penny stopped at the first door and knocked lightly. “Charles?”

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Bastion Club Historical
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