Page 9 of His Runaway Duchess

“Is your home nearby?”

“Yes, fairly close.”

“Well then.” Daphne got to her feet, brushed off her damp palms, and extended one hand towards the boy. “I shall take you home, to make sure you get home safe.”

Alex flushed. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not a baby.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I hoped to ask for a favor in return. Would your family mind if I stayed the night? As you can see, I’m rather wet and very far from home myself. Could I trespass on your hospitality? You seem like a proper gentleman, and I amsurethat I can trust you.”

Alex brightened at that, taking her hand and getting to his feet.

“I think they wouldn’t mind you staying. We have plenty of space. Oh, and by the way, I ought to let you know that I amnotblind, and despite all the dirt, it’s pretty clear that you’re a bride.”

Daphne reddened. “Yes, I know I look quite a sight. I’m hoping your kind family will offer a change of clothes.”

“I’m sure they will. But don’t worry, I am not going to ask any questions about your wedding day, as Papa always told me that it’s impolite to ask uncomfortable questions.”

“A wise man,” Daphne agreed.

She shook out her skirts—damp and filthy—and together they picked their way down the hill, sticking to the tree line.

The path was difficult, the ground slippery and steep. Daphne was so absorbed in watching where to put her feet that she did not look where she was going. More accurately, she did not look at what was happening at the bottom of the hill.

“They’re looking for me,” Alex whispered.

She glanced up, and her gaze sharpened.

At the bottom of the slope, alongside the house they were approaching, a dozen or so people were milling around in the gardens, torches and candles glimmering in the gloom.

At her side, Alex sucked in a sharp breath. “There’s Papa! He’s come to look for me!”

Daphne saw at once who Alex was talking about. A tall, stocky man was striding up the hill towards them, holding up a lantern. The buttery yellow light flickered across his face, revealing a square, sharp jaw and a grim expression. He was a powerfully built man, as far as Daphne could tell, making even Emily’s duke seem a little weak. He had a strong profile and heavy, dark eyebrows hanging over his eyes.

He did not seem happy in the slightest.

He had certainly spotted them, too.

Alex released Daphne’s hand and began hurrying towards the man.

“Papa, Papa!” he called. “Here, Papa!”

CHAPTER 3

“Don’t tell me where heisn’t!” Edward thundered, slamming his fists on his desk. “Tell me where heis!”

The governess, Mrs. Trench, was a woman of middle years, perhaps several years short of forty. She was rather stocky and wide about the waist, with a pleasant round face and prematurely graying brown hair knotted back in a simple bun. Nothing ever seemed to rattle her or upset her, least of all Edward’s outbursts. She barely even blinked.

“He opened the schoolroom window and climbed out,” she responded smoothly. “I was downstairs, fetching the tea tray, as usual, so I daresay he had been gone at least ten minutes by the time I returned. I could not possibly say where he had gone, only that he was not in the house. The servants and I have searched thoroughly. We ought to expand our search to the grounds, Your Grace.”

Edward threw himself back into his seat, rubbing his hand over his face. He was too tired for this. Why couldn’t Alex stay out of trouble just for a while? Why must everything be so difficult?

At least his neighbors—who were thankfully few and had gotten the hint that he did not like unexpected guests, or any guests at all, and would not send him invitations—had finally stopped telling him that Alex’s problems would cease if he could only have a mother.

“I’ll round up some of the gardeners and groundsmen to search for him,” offered Peter, the third occupant of the room.

Peter Tinn was around thirty-five years of age, tall and rather too slim, with a head full of duckling-fluff hair and a surprisingly strong and full brown beard. He was an excellent steward, with a tendency towards timidity.

Frankly, Edward was not sure how he hadn’t managed to drive off his oldest—and only—friend.

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