Page 32 of Papa's Rules
Priscilla pulled back and gaped at her. “I beg your pardon, Lady Cavendish, but why is he of interest to you? Are you expecting some particular wares?”
“N-no,” Cammie said, realizing she had spoken too soon and had made Priscilla suspicious. “I am simply curious about him.”
“Why would a lady like you be curious about a delivery man?” Priscilla put her hands on her hips, appraising Cammie skeptically. “I knew something did not seem proper about you. Is it not enough for you to be married to Lord Cavendish, you must also seek the attention of my beau?”
“No, it is not what you think.” Cammie reached into her bag and pulled out the letter addressed to Robert as well as a handful of banknotes which she waved at Priscilla. “Please, give these to him.”
Priscilla’s mouth hung open. “I will do no such thing. How dare you? Do you think because you are rich you can purchase anything...or anyone...you wish?”
“Please,” Cammie said. “I have explained it all in this letter.”
“Get away from me.” Priscilla turned to go back to her job. Desperate, Cammie grabbed her hand and pressed the bills and letter into it, but Priscilla kept her fingers clenched in a fist.
“You there,” a deep voice accosted her, followed by a firm hand on her upper arm. “What are you about?”
“Robert, she was asking after you. What is the meaning of this? Who is she to you?” Priscilla was practically in hysterics, angry tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
“Priscilla,” he said, ignoring Cammie but not loosening his grip on her arm, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He gave Cammie a cursory glance before turning back to Priscilla. “I have never seen this woman before in my life.”
“Priscilla! What on earth are you doing? And causing a scene in front of my shop no less. Oh my heavens. Lady Cavendish, is that you? Unhand her.” Mrs. Stilton exited her store and charged at Robert, wrapping both her hands around his so that Cammie now had two people and three hands tussling over her right arm.
“Please,” she said, “I can explain.”
* * *
Alexander peeked out the carriage window, relieved that Ashton Manor was finally in sight. He had spent the morning meeting with his solicitor and he was glad to be returning home earlier than expected. The matter had not been nearly as dire as his solicitor had made it out to be and Alexander had explained quite succinctly his displeasure at having his plans disrupted. However, he was pleased that the whole day had not been wasted. He had told Cammie not to expect him until shortly before dinner, and he couldn’t wait to see her face when he surprised her.
He glanced at the wrapped package in his hands, which contained some brand new sheet music for her to try on the piano. Once he’d learned Cammie knew how to play, he’d had his mother’s old piano tuned and brought into the drawing room. His little bride had put on several performances for him in the proceeding days, sometimes even singing along as she played.
He smiled to himself. Since her arrival, she’d filled Ashton Manor with an abundance of joy and light. His whole life had changed the moment she’d walked into it, and for the better. He couldn’t recall having ever felt so happy and complete. His breath caught. Cammie was the other half of his soul. God, he loved her. He told her so every day and took pleasure in the slight flush that always stained her cheeks when she demurely said she loved him in return.
The carriage pulled to a stop, and Alexander exited before his footman had a chance to open the door. He was too excited to see Cammie and give her the present. His footman stood awkwardly beside the carriage, giving him a strange look, as Alexander rushed up the steps of his home.
But Cammie was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in the drawing room. Nor was she in her bedroom, or his bedroom. Alexander called out her name as he rushed around the house, only for his butler to approach him with a worried expression.
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen her since breakfast, my lord. None of the servants have. She appears to be…missing.”
Missing? No, she couldn’t be. Where would she have gone? He’d told her that she wasn’t to leave the premises of Ashton Manor by herself without permission. He searched the gardens one last time. Still no sign of her. Frowning, he stormed through the house, calling her name, as he approached his library. Since she had plenty of books in her room, she never tended to venture there unless he invited her, and he had forbidden her from touching his desk. But perhaps she had disobeyed and was now hiding there, not daring to come out because she didn’t want a spanking.
He burst into his library and scanned the spacious room.
“Cammie! If you keep hiding from me, I promise your punishment will be much worse than I’m already planning.” He approached his desk, noting the contents on the top were out of place. His quill and ink were shifted to the left, and a stack of correspondence had been toppled over. He didn’t have a direct view of the area behind his desk, and he surmised she must be hiding there.
“Cammie, I am quickly losing my patience. I’m going to count to three, little girl, and if you don’t come out from your hiding place, I will take a strap to you.”
He heard no movement, not even a catch of her breath. Very well. He would start counting. It angered him that the first time he’d left her alone, she’d misbehaved and not only entered his library, but had disturbed the contents on his desk and continued hiding from him. Another step forward, and he noticed one of the top drawers had been opened as well, fueling his anger even further. He was a man of order and conducted much of his business from his library. It wasn’t a playroom and Cammie had a lot of explaining to do.
“One…two…three.” He cleared his throat. “Very well, then. I will fetch you myself, and I doubt once I’m through with you that you’ll be sitting comfortably for quite some time.”
He strode for his large mahogany desk and rounded it, only to discover Cammie wasn’t hiding there as he’d suspected. A cold hand of worry clutched his heart. Several of the desk drawers were opened, including the one where he kept coins and banknotes. He gathered the scattered notes and thumbed through the stack. Some of the money was missing. Not a huge amount, but enough that he would have noticed, even if his desk would have been left in pristine condition.
His worry deepened. Cammie was missing, and someone had stolen from him.
Though he trusted his staff, many of whom had served his family since before his parents’ passing, he kept the drawer locked and the key hidden behind a small painting in his library. However, he’d retrieved the key in question once while Cammie had been in his company.
His heart ached from the evidence of his little wife’s betrayal. Had she stolen from him and run off? He replayed their last few interactions in his mind, for some indication that she’d been planning this, or any hints that she’d been unhappy in their marriage. She’d been rather quiet during breakfast, now that he thought about it. He also still had a nagging suspicion that she hadn’t been honest with him about what had happened at the millinery shop when she’d disobeyed him and knocked over the gloves. This additional thought troubled him further in this moment, though he still couldn’t gather why she’d jumped out of her seat and run across the shop without any warning, or what it had to do with her sudden disappearance and thievery.
“Oh, Cammie,” he whispered, his voice raspy with grief. “Oh, Cammie, what have you done?”
