Page 9 of An Honorable Deception
“Empty.”
“Perhaps she’s tucked herself away in one of the upstairs sitting rooms. She can’t have gone far.” A pause, then, “Why are you looking for her?”
A shift in his face, from amused to concerned. “She didn’t look well when we brought Lady Alethia in. Not that she would admit it, but I think seeing her wounds...”
“Oh!” Lady Marigold’s hand flew from the door to her face. “I didn’t even think!”
“Hence why I thought perhaps she’d gone to lie down and didn’t fret overmuch. But Iwouldlike to be certain she didn’t faint from the sight of the blood somewhere and knock herself out. One unconscious young lady in the house at a time, you know.”
The door had drifted open another inch or two when Lady Marigold let go of it, and Lord Fairfax darted a gaze past his sister. It caught on Alethia before she could close her eyes again—why was that even her first reaction? Lady Marigold already knew she was awake. He smiled anew, and it was soft and welcoming. “Well. Looks like our guest has awakened, so I suppose that means Vinia’s welcome to faint if she wants after all.”
Lady Marigold turned to flash her a smile as well. “Sheis, and she’s agreed to the plan. I was about to take down her list of things to be packed.”
“I’ll leave you to it. Find me when you’re done?” The lift of his brow said something more than the words, which his sister could apparently understand without any issue. She nodded, and a moment later, she’d closed the door again.
For one second, Alethia tasted disappoint on her tongue—dry English scones, not a hint of the spice she preferred, that’s what she always thought of when disappointment gripped her. One of England’s most eligible young lords had been looking right at her and still no introduction.
But then, this was hardly the right situation for one. And before she could lament it more than that second, the pain surged again.
There would be plenty of time for proper greetings later. For now, she had better focus on not embarrassing herself with another groan. Or, worse still, inviting the nightmares back with a scream.
FOUR
Yates considered himself an expert on going unnoticed when the situation called for it, and he credited his success to the innumerable games of hide-and-seek he’d played as a child. But Lavinia had always been rubbish at the game. How was she managing it so well now?
He huffed his way out of the gymnasium—whichof courseshe hadn’t been in—and poked his head into the kitchen on his way by. “Any reported Lavinia sightings?”
Clementina looked up from the bowl she was stirring, brows immediately drawn. “You still haven’t found her?”
He pursed his lips. “I think we had better face facts—fairies. They’ve stolen her away.”
Clementina laughed and kept on stirring. “Let me get this cake in the oven, and the smell of it will conjure her out of thin air, I don’t doubt it.”
She did have a sweet tooth, more so even than Gemma. “A sound plan, though I expect nothing less from so wise a woman.”
The retired actress sent him a warm, maternal smile. “When will you be back again, my lord?”
He leaned a shoulder into the doorframe. As the doctorhad done his work, it took only a quick, whispered conference with Marigold and Merritt to decide that he had better go home again with them, at least for a week. The notes Lady Alethia had left in the confessional were far too sparse. He needed to pump a bit more information out of her if he meant to follow what few leads she had written down.
Because clearly she’d found the right ones for them to have followed her to the church and tried to kill her. Did the answer lie at the Ayahs’ Home? Or perhaps with the lady she’d noted having contacted her but then not showing up? Yates would have to get her full name—the notes only called her Victoria—and call on her to see. Or perhaps Lady Alethia knew more than she’d written down. And he needed to know it, too, if he meant to find her ayah and keep her from getting killed in the process.
With a bit of luck, she’d open up to him or to Marigold. He’d been sidestepping her parents for months already, so he didn’t really expectthemto interfere when they realized he and Marigold had whisked her away.
It was blasted awkward, though, accepting introductions to pretty young ladies when he knew very well his estate was in no condition to be considered acceptable to any of their parents. Better by far was simply avoiding them all and sticking close to Marigold and Merritt’s side at social gatherings—when he wasn’t slinking away from them altogether to investigate the very aristocrats laughing and dancing and smoking within.
To Clementina, he gave a shrug. “A week? Perhaps two. I’ll let you and Neville know when I’ve made firm plans. I don’t want to miss the opening of his new play.”
Clementina chuckled. “Let’s hope it has a good long run, so even if you miss the opening, you’ll have plenty of time to see it.”
“To God’s ear.” He straightened and turned away. “On with the hunt for fairy-stolen ladies, I suppose.”
Despite the light words, real concern sparked inside his chest. Lavinia had spoken bravely, yes, and she’d pulled on that mask she always wore in society securely enough. But she ought to have known better than to try that with him. His sister was the queen of masks—which made him the king of seeing through them.
Where in blazes had shegone?
He made his way back into the main part of the house, glancing once more into the library and then moving to the drawing room. The book she’d taken from the shelves still sat on the end table. He moved over to glance at the title and snorted. A prop, nothing more. Lavinia never read anything but fiction and poetry.
“Did you find her?” Marigold asked as she entered the room, a folded slip of paper in hand.
