Page 51 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
She was so glad she thought she might burst at the seams.
Chapter 36
Lord Peter realised he should have been weary from the ride home. However, the sun splashing its majesty across the sky in broken ochre gave further meaning to his ride. And for a while on his journey, as the sweet air grew warmer with the break of morning, all time had ceased. Now, finally home, his heart was light and his sense of purpose was never more clearly defined. He felt as though he’d slept soundly the night through.
Eric, preparing for a morning ride himself, said upon his arrival, “Out so early?” It must have been a surprise, indeed, for Lord Peter was well-known to end his nighttime merriment rather late, often in the waning hours just before sunrise. “I’m only now just arriving home,” he replied.
Eric cocked his head. “Only just now?”
Peter dismounted in a single motion and landed as if placed like a chess piece. “You won’t tell Father,” he said with a smile.
“That all depends on how much you’ve got.”
They shared a chuckle at this old joke of theirs, for they had many secrets between them.
“Actually,” said Peter, “there is for once a valid reason for my being out all night, one that I’d like to discuss with you and Father.”
“Can you at least give us a hint?”
“I have yet to gather my wits about me. Allow me to wash up and see to it that Father is summoned to the parlour. You shall meet us there.”
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A splash of cold water on his face had done Lord Peter well, for it sent a new clarity into his perspective, which he felt he had lost during his ride home. Yes, he had not once lost his purpose, but what he had lost was the sense of danger about it. Whatever these vile captors of Lady Madeline’s were, they were not above a certain amount of violence to achieve their purpose, as he knew from Madeline’s relaying of her harrowing abduction on her wedding day.
“There he is now,” said Eric. He turned to their father. “You recognise him, Lord Briarmere? That’s the Prodigal son in the flesh!”
“Oh dear,” said their father, “I’m afraid the fatted calf has been completely devoured. We may have some gruel for you, dear boy, if you’re hungry.”
“Droll as always, Father. But I’ve come to discuss an urgent matter, and one that I fear may be rather dire.”
“If that is to be the case, I surmise a half-pint of sherry should do the trick.”
A footman by the name of Doyle rushed to prepare the dram for him.
“Make mine the full pint,” said Eric. “This sounds like a rocky one.”
“Are we both through?” Peter said with a huff.
“My,” said Eric.
“Dear boy, it seems your news is rather dire. Sit down and let us discuss.”
Lord Peter licked his lips. “I’d prefer to stand. Father, Eric, recently, I came across a most curious situation while riding in the woods just beyond our property. It seems there’s a maiden being held against her will in a house there.”
“Hold on,” said Eric. “Is this the one of which you spoke two nights ago?”
“The very same. She is currently serving as the housemaid—”
“Ahousemaid?” Father said derisively. “This would not happen to be your current love interest, would it?”
“Yes, Father, it is.”
“Dear me. Perhaps I will make it the full pint.”
“Not so rash, Father. There have been further developments. She is a housemaid not of her own will. She is Lady Madeline Whitcombe, daughter of the Earl of Stamford.”
“Lord Stamford’s daughter?” said Father.
