Page 63 of Fit for a Duke
‘You must leave here,’ Ezra said, turning towards the tethered horses. Most were already gone, as were the majority of carriages. Pharaoh shuffled uneasily on the end of his lead rope, frightened by the thunder too. ‘Your delay is holding up the last of the carriages and its occupants will be getting wet.’ He nodded towards the only remaining conveyance, which contained an agitated Lady Fletcher. ‘A word to the wise, madam,’ he addedsotto voce,‘do not embarrass yourself by attempting to attract me, since it will not serve.’
She turned to look at him, openly shocked. ‘Clearly you misconstrue. We must continue this conversation later, in private, and iron out the unfortunate misunderstanding.’
‘I think not,’ Ezra replied, forgoing the remnants of civility. If she was willing to be so brazen then he would ensure that his intentions were not misconstrued. ‘Enjoy Salford. You deserve one another.’
Ezra left her with her mouth hanging open and strode away, vaguely conscious of Lady Fletcher’s voice urging her to get into the carriage and out of the rain.
‘Anything?’ Ezra asked as he swung into Pharaoh’s damp saddle and took up the reins. The horse immediately became less skittish with Ezra on his back, or perhaps because the storm was already abating.
‘Quiet as the grave,’ Godfrey replied, mounting his own horse. ‘At least insofar as those with murderous intent are concerned. Didn’t see a thing out of place. Perhaps we have got it wrong, guv’nor?’
‘Possibly.’ Ezra spurred Pharoah into a trot, mindless of the wet mud that flew up from his hooves. Merlin raced alongside them, splattered from head to foot. ‘But my instincts tell me otherwise.’
‘Right, well, if your instincts are what we’re using as a yardstick...’
They didn’t speak again until they had returned to the house and the privacy of Ezra’s rooms. Ezra threw off his mud-splattered clothing and made use of the hot water that Godfrey produced.
‘Fetch me something to eat, would you?’ Ezra asked, lifting his head and shaking droplets of water from his hair. It made him smile when it brought to mind Clio’s disinclination for ruining her bonnet by bobbing for apples. ‘I didn’t get the chance to eat at the luncheon.’
Godfrey nodded and disappeared. He returned again with such speed that Ezra knew immediately that something was seriously wrong.
‘What is it?’ he asked sharply.
‘It’s Miss Benton.’
‘What about her?’ Ezra barked.
‘She didn’t come back from the luncheon.’
Ezra’s heart plummeted. ‘What do you mean, she didn’t come back? Of course she must have.’ But he knew from the stricken state of Godfrey’s features that she had somehow been left behind. ‘What in the world could have happened to her? She travelled there with my mother and so…’
Without bothering to complete his sentence, Ezra pulled a clean shirt over his head and left the room with Merlin at his heels, whimpering in sympathy with Ezra’s growing concern. His mother had the chamber across the corridor from his and Ezra gave the door a perfunctory tap before letting himself in.
‘Ezra!’ The duchess was reclined on a chaise beneath the window but half rose from it to fix Ezra with a look of mild surprise. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’
‘Did Miss Benton return to the house in your carriage?’ Ezra asked without preamble.
‘What?’
‘It’s a simple enough question.’ Ezra sucked in a sharp, nervous breath. If something had happened to her then time was of the essence and he couldn’t afford to waste a moment of it. ‘You took her up on the outward journey so presumably you remembered to bring her back with you.’
‘Well, no…That is to say, I…’
‘You what, Mother?’ Ezra asked, his voice hardening.
‘There was so much confusion, I couldn’t find her so I just assumed that she had returned with someone else.’
Ezra was so angry that red spots threatened to blur his vision. Something bad had happened to Clio, his every instinct told him so. He looked away from his mother as he struggled to control his rage. Angry people did not think coherently. His gaze roamed around the room, alighting upon his mother’s bed and the yellow embroidered reticule laying on it. The breath left his body in an extravagant whoosh.
‘That belongs to Miss Benton.’
His mother nodded. ‘Indeed it does. She left it in my carriage. I will have my maid return it to her.’
‘No.’ Ezra slowly shook his head. ‘She had it with her when I spoke to her at the luncheon. If she did not return with you then how did it come to be in your carriage?’
‘How should I know?’ The duchess lifted a slim shoulder in evident disinterest. ‘Why not ask her if such a trifling matter is so important to you. There has obviously been a silly mistake and I fail to understand why you are getting into such a taking about it.’
‘I cannot ask her, Mother, for the simple reason that she isn’t here. She hasn’t come back.’
