Page 38 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
Lord Peter had backed away from the table in time, saving his fine clothes from a tea bath.
“Oh dear,” cried Madeline, grabbing a napkin. She began dabbing Lord Peter’s coat, where there was no tea at all. The man was dry from head to foot, and she hoped no one besides him would notice. “Forgive me, My Lord,” she said, slipping the palmed note into his coat pocket.
“A mere trifle,” he said good-naturedly. “I’ve suffered worse.”
“Really, to bedew such a man with tea!” said Lady Elizabeth. “You ought to be horse-whipped, child!”
“Forgive me, Lady Elizabeth,” said Madeline, frantically cleaning up the spill, her inner self rejoicing from a plan well-executed.
“You’re excused from service, wretch. Get thee to thy room.”
“Yes, Lady Elizabeth,” said Madeline, fleeing as fast as her legs would take her.
Once back in the confines of her room, she collapsed onto her cot and breathed a sigh of relief that positively cleansed her soul.
All she needed to do now was wait. It was going to be torturous.
Chapter 27
Letter from Lord Oliver Hartwell to his cousin, Lord Henry Glencourt
Dear Henry,
I am receipt of your latest missive and am certainly glad to learn of your recovery from that riding accident which you so boldly described in your previous letter. Furthermore, I wish to thank you for your wonderful congratulations on my marriage to Lady Madeline Whitcombe. However, a situation has arisen which I’m afraid has cast a rather dark shadow over my life at the moment.
We are, in fact, not married as of yet. It is a terrible story, Henry, and I am quite at my wits’ end even contemplating it this moment.
It was on the very day of our wedding. I was attired in my outfit, with its scandalous colours embroidered on the waistcoat—imagine me so attired, Henry—and I was feeling like I’d surmounted every obstacle life had seen fit to throw in my way. There I was, on top of it all, standing proud and tall, when a cry came from the hallway.
My Madeline, my love, my heart of hearts, was taken from me! Abducted by a stranger! For what purpose, I do not dare to speculate. But how could it be? Where in life have I transgressed?
As I write this, it has been several days, and I have not slept well since. When I do manage to close my eyes, I am tormented by such horrors that no man could face without being brought to the very brink of sanity. It is only that divine intervention that wakes the body before the mind tumbles over the edge that has managed to save me thus far. I awaken covered in sweat, panting as if from a chase, and that’s when the horrors of the real, waking world assail me, and again I am thrust into despair.
I have gone out riding several times in search of my love. Each night, I return having failed. Madeline’s family has also organised a search, which has come to the same end as my efforts.
I will go out again tomorrow. My work is slipping away from me. I have not settled my affairs for days. But it does not matter. I can only think of one thing, and that is to have my Madeline returned to me safe and sound.
I am sorry to have to convey this news to you, dear cousin. How I wish I had your friendly face here with me so that I might know some comfort. But alas, I am alone in the world, and forced to go through life as a tossed ship with a sole occupant.
Please write to me quickly, dear cousin. Or better yet, make your way to me. I do not know how long I will be able to bear this hopelessness. Not without my Madeline. I remain
Sincerely yours,
Ollie
Chapter 28
Lord Peter stood nervously awaiting his father. The Duke was never late for anything. He had sent a message in advance of his leaving Paris saying that he would arrive by seven o’clock. It was seven o’clock. Lord Peter had made it back from his disastrous tea with the Radfords with five minutes to spare.
His coach rolled up to the house. A footman rushed to the coach and opened the door and the Duke shambled out.
“What a ghastly trip,” he exclaimed.
“Father!”
“Who are you?”
“Very funny, Father.” He offered his hand, and the Duke took it. “I trust your journey was a terrible one?”
