Page 58 of To Treasure an Heiress
Ainsley was frowning. “I had a note waiting for me when I wokeup from my cousin. I was right. He wants to chat with me this morning, and I have no doubts at all about what he’ll say. He’ll try to get me to give him information. I didn’t want to go without telling you.”
Sheridan grinned. “Feed him something ridiculous to pass along to the Scofields, then. Something that will have them looking the other way while your mother goes to Paris.”
A bit of a smile overtook Ainsley’s frown. “And I’ll see to that wire you composed for your sisters about said trip. Thank you again for that.”
Sheridan tried his best lecture-in-a-blink. “As we already established, Harry, it’s yourmother.” Which meant nothing more needed to be said on the matter—and he trusted Ainsley implicitly to know what to say to Smithfield.
For his own part, Sheridan would concentrate on Beth. He hurried back down the corridor and was the first to convene at the front door, but Telford soon stomped his way there, too, face darker than the storm clouds outside. Oliver was only a moment behind.
Their host looked as worried as Sheridan was trying not to feel. “I’d love to tell you both that I’m certain this is nothing, and that we’ll probably pass Beth a few minutes out. But...” He looked over his shoulder, toward the house at large. “But Mamm-wynn has a strange history of being right about this sort of thing.”
“Indeed. Proving, as we were discussing last night, that God and Christianity aren’t half so boring as people today try to make Him.” Sheridan took the liberty of pulling open the door, thereby letting in a gust of warm, wet air. “I don’t suppose she mentioned where we ought to begin looking for Beth, though?”
Tremayne sighed and shook his head, leading the way outside. “I was rather hoping she’d whispered something in your ear that I didn’t catch. I asked her, but she just got that look in her eyes and said something about her little rosefinch always flying too far.”
“Hm.” Pursing his lips, Sheridan stepped out into the rain, hoping against hope that it would drill an idea into his head. Giventhat he’d forsaken his tea, he might require the rain’s help in that department.
As they hurried to the quay and onto theAdelle, he let everything spin through his mind. He was the last one of the three of them to have seen Beth, so if she were in any kind of trouble, perhaps she’d let a clue drop last night. Though when he recalled their conversation, all he could really remember was the way she’d smiled—athim. And even laughed. The way her grey-as-the-storm eyes had flashed with amusement instead of lightning. The graceful lines of her figure he might have admired more than necessary while he was coming up with more rat jokes.
He suddenly felt as though a giant took hold of his heart and squeezed it tight. Nothing could have happened to her in this short amount of time since she had breakfast with Mamm-wynn and Lady Emily . . . could it?
He sank down onto a wet bench, knowing well that they’d get under sail faster if he and Telford stayed out of Tremayne’s way. Which, just now, was fine. He wasn’t quite as adept at prayers as Ainsley or Oliver and preferred to give them his full attention, rather than undergo them while he was doing other tasks. So, he bowed his head against the rain and clamped his eyes shut.
Lord God ... we don’t know where Beth is. But you do. Keep her safe, protect her if she’s in any danger. And if she’s still safe and well, then just whisper in her ear, as you seem to do in her grandmother’s, that she ought to come home now. Let her know she has us worried.
“What are you doing?”
Telford’s voice, still gravelly from disuse, elbowed its way into his awareness and made Sheridan sigh. “I’mpraying.” Shouldn’t it have been obvious? Bowed head, closed eyes, clasped hands?
“Why?”
Sometimes his friend was downright obtuse in the mornings. “Because... Beth may be in some sort of danger, if Mamm-wynn is so alarmed.”
“So? Since when does such a thing inspire you to pray?”
With a huff of pure exasperation, he opened his eyes and looked at Telford. “I amnota heathen. I pray!”
Telford’s brows were furrowed. “When? All these years, I’ve not seen it.”
“Because I usually do it in private. Is that so difficult to fathom?” Maybe it was a miscalculation, though. He’d always preferred to undertake such tasks with no eyes watching him. After all, he was no vicar or saintly valet or theologian to make a proper example of it, so he preferred to approach the King of kings without anyone around to tell him he was doing it wrong. But did his best friend really think he just never prayed?
Such a thought would have been amusing even yesterday. Just now, it seemed horrific. If absolutely everyone in his life thought him so faithless, then he was clearly doing something wrong.
He’d have to fix that. Turn over a new leaf in his outward behavior to better reflect his inward life. And yes, all right, work on the inward too. Because that must not be quite as robust as he liked to think if no one could detect it in him. Perhaps he ought to spend a bit more time thinking about God and of what He’d ask of him rather than wherehewanted to go for his next dig.
He shut his eyes again.Forgive me, Lord. I don’t think it’s ever occurred to me that I’m failing you by not making faith a more active part of my life—which is ridiculous of me, given that you’ve put Ainsley in my life as an example. Forgive me. And lead us to Beth, please. Help us to find her quickly and, if she needs help, to be able to give it.
He paused, ignoring Telford’s next muttering altogether, barely even registering that the sloop was moving through the water now.And it hasn’t even crossed my mind that I ought to pray about my feelings for Beth either. I suppose Iamrustier at this than I thought. Forgive that, too, please, while you’re forgiving me for the rest. No one has ever stirred my heart like this, Lord. I want ... you know what I want. And you know, as I certainly don’t, howshefeels. Takeall of it. My heart and hers, our feelings or lack of them. And work your will there. I don’t know if she’s really the one you’d have be the next Lady Sheridan, but ... but I hope so. You know how I hope so.
“Are you all right, Sheridan?” Tremayne’s voice this time.
Telford snorted. “He’spraying. One would think you’d be able to tell that, Mr. Vicar.”
It probably wouldn’t be righteous of him to shoot out a foot and find Telford’s shin with it, but Sheridan was tempted. Sorely.
“Wise of him. Keep it up, Sher. I’ll add mine to yours, and perhaps the Lord will give us guidance on where we ought to point ourselves. For now, I’m setting a course for St. Mary’s since we know she’d have gone there first.”
Sheridan opened his eyes but kept his head down. At leastsomeoneoffered simple approval instead of mockery. And St. Mary’s was certainly the logical place to begin. They could knock on Lady Emily’s door and see how long ago Beth had been there. Perhaps they’d even find her there still. If the Lord was going to whisper a warning to Mamm-wynn, why not early enough that they couldpreventtrouble instead of just finding her in it?
