Page 80 of The Lady Glass
He felt sorry for her. For the both of them. The parson’s noose would soon tie them together in a loveless marriage, and the thought sickened him. He wanted to ask about Theresia’s servitude in their house, just to hear and say her name, but it would only alarm everyone and wouldn’t bring her back. The rest of their teatime passed in agonizing slowness. He excused himself and wandered through the corridor until he reached the private window by Marcus’s study.
Seven days.
It had been seven long, miserable days since Theresia had left. He pulled back the curtain framing the small window, taking in the varied greens in every shade, from the grass to the shrubs to the mature trees lining the side of the property.
What had he accomplished in those seven days? Nothing. Notseeing Theresia or finding her vase or capturing a murderer. Cadogen had finally returned after following a few suspicious leads and even tracking down Lord Vernon’s solicitor, but not with the news they’d anticipated. Lord Vernon was innocent. His alibi the night of Lord Castlereagh’s secretary’s death had been proved by several witnesses, and though Lord Vernon hated Castlereagh, he had hired his solicitor to quietly donate funds to the committee out of condolences for the family’s loss. Something that, Cadogen had learned, was not unusual for Lord Vernon. The rude, outspoken man had a bit of a heart after all.
Rolland almost wished it were not so.
With Lord Caspar added to their company, Rolland and his friends had spent every minute trying to keep guard on yet another committee member for the conference. A day had waxed into another until everyone but the guests, who were finally relaxing again after the death of the footman, was cursing the idea of their house party. No one more than Rolland.
The whole situation felt like a standing powder keg with a lit fuse racing toward it.
With Cadogen to take his place, Rolland had justified leaving Ashbury Court as often as he could, searching for signs of Theresia. He’d had no help from Lady Cadogen, who refused to break her promise to Theresia, but he’d followed the carriage that night and discovered where she’d been staying. The house belonged to Mr. Plasil—an older gentleman he could only assume was a relation Rolland had never heard of. Any other possibility else made him sick inside. But if Mr. Plasil was a relation, why had she not gone to him before instead of to the Roma camp?
It seemed Rolland would never have answers now, for when he’d returned the next day, she and the older gentleman had already left. Try as he might, Rolland had been unable to trace where they’d gone.
There was no sign of her at the Roma camp, and word hadn’t yet returned from Mrs. Bedrich in London. With no idea what sort of other friends Theresia claimed locally, Rolland had been forced to hire a man from a neighboring town to help search for her. His own friends were too busy protecting lives for him to bother them, and he was growing desperate.
It was as if she’d vanished into thin air.
He dropped the curtain, determined to stay busy or die of exhaustion. He went in search of Marcus, but unfortunately, he found Lord Caspar instead.
“Just the man I was looking for.” Lord Caspar slapped him on the arm much too close to his bad shoulder. “Come speak with me in the conservatory.”
Rolland had no ready excuse, and his father had already chastised him too many times for disappearing and neglecting his duty. He only hoped the man would be brief.
Once in the conservatory, they each took a seat on the benches that faced each other.
“Your father has kept me apprised of your impressive naval career. You’re a good man, Captain Reese. I’d be proud to have you marry my stepdaughter and have you joined to our family.”
“That is kind of you to say, but—”
“But what?” Lord Caspar interrupted. “The marriage papers have been drawn up for some time now. I came to have you meet Miss Shields and finalize everything. But Lord Barrack says you’re not quite ready. Is she not pretty enough for you? Her dowry not tempting enough?”
“There is no problem with Miss Shields.” Only she did not challenge him, inspire him to be better, or make him feel alive again.
“Then, explain to me, Captain, because you know the political implications. There is a great deal riding on every decision we make right now.”
Rolland bristled. This man wasn’t his father, and Rolland didn’t like being pushed into a corner by anyone. “My father’s life has been threatened, Your Lordship. I think I am well aware of the situation.”
Lord Caspar gave him a hard look. “Of course. You are an intelligent man.” He stood, dropping his arms to his side, clearly frustrated. “I’m hoping to announce the engagement at the duke’s ball in two days’ time and leave directly after. I’m a busy man. Please don’t make me or my stepdaughter wait much longer.”
The amicable smile that followed just annoyed Rolland all the more, but he didn’t so much as flinch until after Lord Caspar left him alone. Then he groaned and laid his head down on the bench. If Theresia was truly gone, couldn’t he do his duty? No one was asking him to fall in love with Miss Shields. He put his arm over his head to shut out the light penetrating from the large windows, but it proved impossible to shut out his thoughts of Theresia.
He’d finally heard back from Mrs. Stone’s Distinguished Ladies’ Seminary, at least, having written to Mrs. Stone soon after having heard her name for the first time. Theresia had not only been a student there but a teacher as well. Mrs. Stone had given a straightforward, unflowery recommendation in her letter, notwithstanding the impressive list of skills she claimed Theresia possessed—as if Mrs. Stone had assumed he was seeking to hire her former employee for some sort of position. As far as he could discern, Theresia had turned to servitude after her teaching, but it could not have been for very long since Mrs. Stone had included the years Theresia had been at the school. Was it then that she had worked for Lady Caspar? And where did the vase fit in to all of this?
He sat up and slumped forward in his seat, his foot tapping with restless energy. Once again he compared his situation tothe war. The loss of so many had left him without feeling then. With Theresia, his feelings were larger than he’d ever imagined possible, and they were destroying him. He knew she was still out there, hurting. And no matter his gift for strategy, nothing was coming together.
Who was protecting her? Was she alone or scared? The unknown was torturing him. He longed to hear her voice, to be the one she sought out in a room and the one she confided in. More than that, he wanted to be the one to hold her. To kiss her.
As impossible of a match as they were on paper, she was the best thing to have happened to him.
This bold, incredibly kind, and determined Roma had traveled the breadth of his heart and made her home there. She was a nuisance, sweet and irritatingly stubborn, and being with her was the most endearing experience of his life.
Heaven help him find her.
And before the dreaded ball.
