Page 33 of Papa's Rules
Alexander looked up from his desk and saw his butler standing in the doorway.
“Lord Cavendish, would you like the carriage readied?” The man pressed his lips together in a show of decorum. At least the servant had the tact not to say, “Would you like a carriage readied so you can hunt down your missing, thieving wife?”
“Yes. Right away.” Alexander found the key beneath his chair. Cammie must have left in a hurry. Had she returned to Talcott House? Or…had she decided to go shopping?
He thought of their recent trip to the millinery shop, and the punishment which had followed. Although she had accepted his discipline and the butt plug without too much fuss, and she had behaved perfectly ever since, he had indeed sensed she was holding something back from him. He had to believe that whatever secret she was keeping related to her disappearance as well as the missing money. But even with those clues he was flummoxed at trying to decipher her motive or plan. He doubted she’d taken the money to get herself a hat. She had many new hats in her sizeable closet, most of which she hadn’t even worn yet. Besides that, she had never shown a predisposition for material things. She always seemed overwhelmingly grateful for every little comfort or bobble he gave her. God, where had she gone?
Her disappearance gutted him.
He left the package that contained the music sheets on his messy desk and bounded outside for the carriage.
“To Talcott House,” he told the driver. “As fast as possible.”
“Of course, my lord,” the driver said, climbing up to his seat. Alexander entered the carriage, the footman closing the door behind him seconds before the wheels started rolling.
The hat shop was on the way to Talcott House. On the slim chance she’d gone shopping, perhaps he would spot her in the street. She had seemed to make a connection with the shopgirl there. Perhaps she had needed some companionship with a girl near her own age, though Alexander would prefer it to be the wife or daughter of one of his neighbors rather than a common shopgirl. He chided himself for being remiss in introducing her to ladies of her own station. He had been selfish in keeping her to himself.
Of course, her running off to Talcott House didn’t make sense either. They were man and wife. She belonged to him. Didn’t she realize he would track her to the very ends of the Earth? And if she truly meant to elude him, surely she must know that would be the first place he looked.
Anxiety knotted in his stomach. He gazed out the carriage windows, moving right and left between each of the two sides of the street, desperate to find her. He had dressed her in a yellow gown that morning. He looked for a flash of yellow and hoped she hadn’t changed before leaving Ashton Manor. Changing clothes by herself was also strictly against his rules, but given current events, he supposed he wouldn’t be surprised to find her wearing a different dress. But still, he had yet to spot a slight feminine figure that resembled his little Cammie, and as the minutes ticked by and the carriage barreled through the streets, his apprehension grew.
What if something bad had happened to her after she ran off? Dire possibilities swirled through his head.Please God, let me find her. Let me find her unharmed. She’d lived a sheltered life in Talcott House and had obviously left his estate on foot. What if she had ventured into a disreputable part of town? He couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to his sweet little girl, and when he finally found her he would…he wouldwhat?
Cold fear gripped him. Maybe she’d had a change of heart.
What if she’d run off because she didn’t want to be his little girl anymore?
No, he told himself. No, that couldn’t be the reason she was gone. There had to be another explanation. Yet he couldn’t come up with a reason for the missing money and her absence that made any more sense than her having had a change of heart.
“Stop!” he shouted, banging on the carriage roof.
There she was. Standing near the hat stop, in her yellow dress, her matching yellow parasol lying on the sidewalk while Mrs. Stilton and a young man he had never seen grappled with his wife’s arm and Mrs. Stilton’s shopgirl glared at Cammie.
* * *
Alexander tumbled from the carriage before it came to a stop. He hit the sidewalk at a dead run and sent both Mrs. Stilton and the heathen of a man who had dared touch his wife tumbling to the ground when he grabbed Cammie from their grasp.
Tucking Cammie behind him protectively, he squared his shoulders and put up his fists. From the corner of his eye he could see that a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered. This was hardly the behavior expected of a gentleman of his status, but where his wife’s safety was at issue, he cared not for public opinion and prepared to defend her, with his own life if necessary.
“Come on,” he goaded the other man as he stood up, “let’s see if you are as brave when attacking a man as you are about attacking a helpless woman.”
“Sir, I assure you I did not attack her, I was simply attempting to prevent her from harming Priscilla,” he said, nodding toward the shopgirl.
“Rubbish. What sort of coward blames a woman for his troubles? Get over here and defend yourself.” He waved his fists in the air like a crazed pugilist, waiting for the other man to engage in the fight, never letting his guard down.
“My lord.” Cammie tugged at the tail of his coat.
“Not now, Cammie,” he said, giving her a quick glance. It was enough of a distraction however, for the other man to see an advantage and he took a swing, landing an impressive blow to Alexander’s jaw, sending him backward on top of Cammie who had been unable to get out of the way fast enough.
Alexander recovered quickly, though. By this time, the driver and footmen had joined the fracas, forming a perimeter around him while he rubbed his jaw and regained his footing, his fists were in the air again.
“Cammie,” he ordered, “get in the carriage and wait for me there.” Turning to his servants he said, “See to Lady Cavendish’s safety. I shall handle this matter myself.”
Tears were streaming down Cammie’s face and she clung to his arm. “Cammie,” he assured her, “I shall be fine. Please do as I tell you.”
“My lord,” she implored him, “he is my brother.”
* * *
