Page 99 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

She nodded.

When Benjamin returned several hours later, he paused in the parlor where Jean and Mrs. Thorpe were sitting and told them that he’d joined a group of men riding about the area calling for Mrs. Wandrell, without success. “I only came back to change horses,” he said. “Wandrell’s putting together a wider search. I must join in.”

“Of course you must,” said Jean.

“Poor woman,” said Mrs. Thorpe. “It’s beginning to rain again. If she’s lost in this, she’s likely to fall ill.”

Benjamin agreed. “Her family says she does go walking alone, which I would not have predicted. She’s quite fanatical about tramping through the countryside, in fact.”

“But not on such a day surely?” asked Mrs. Thorpe.

“It certainly doesn’t seem likely.”

“I could come with you,” said Jean. “Help look.”

“No need. We have a large group, all familiar with the neighborhood as you are not. Uncle is joining in, too.”

The two men departed soon after. Jean sat on with Mrs. Thorpe in the cozy room, the antithesis of the damp and chill outside. “It’s difficult to think of anything but that poor woman lost,” said the latter.

“Yes. I wish there was something we coulddo.”

The older woman nodded. “We can offer up our prayers that she is soon found, safe and well.”

Simultaneously, Jean realized that this was not the sort of remark she expected from an acclaimed London actress, and that her assumption was insulting. “Yes indeed,” she replied, too heartily.

Mrs. Thorpe’s eyes glinted as if she understood Jean’s thoughts all too well.

“She can hardly belost,” said Jean after a while. “She lives here, and if she’s so dedicated to walking, she must know the countryside well.”

“One can trip and fall in the most familiar surroundings,” replied Mrs. Thorpe.

“That’s true.” Jean half rose. “They might not see her if she’s on the ground.”

“I’m sure the searchers have thought of that.”

“Yes.” Jean sat back, but she couldn’t settle. “I’m going up to the nursery to check on the preparations for Miss Warren’s arrival.”

Mrs. Thorpe nodded, clearly aware that Jean just wanted to be moving.

Upstairs, Jean found Lily and Tom in the nursery. Tom’s coat was damp with rain, and when Jean asked him about it, he said, “I been looking for Geoffrey. I gave him a scold because he took Fergus out early this morning. On his own. He knows he ain’t s’posed to do that. I expect he’s having a good old sulk someplace or other. But he’s not in any of his usual spots. I’ve looked high and low, inside and out.”

Jean immediately thought of the hideaway in the garden thicket. “I might know where he is.”

Tom came to attention as if waiting to be dispatched. Tab blinked at Jean from his new cushion beside the hearth.

She couldn’t reveal Geoffrey’s secret place without his permission, Jean thought. Even more, she was glad to have some action she could take. Sitting and waiting for others to effect a rescue galled. “I’ll go and see if he’s there.”

“I’m happy to do it, miss,” said Tom.

“Never mind. I’ll go.” Jean went down to her room for a sturdy cloak and shoes, then let herself out into the gray afternoon. It wasn’t raining now, but the air was filled with mist. Jean could practically feel her hair trying to escape its pins and curl around her face. She put her hood up as she walked swiftly along the path to the spot where the branches concealed the entrance to Geoffrey’s hideaway.

Of course, there was no sign of him near the large, flat rock. That was the point of the place, Jean thought. Its entrance was invisible. She thought of calling, but if he was sulking, he probably wouldn’t answer. She pushed aside a branch and stepped past, trying to avoid the spray of droplets it loosed. The hem of her cloak was soon sodden, however.

In the dimness, she followed the faint traces of feet and her memory of the way. She feared she’d gone wrong for a while, but then she saw the outline of the low roof ahead. She moved faster, receiving a face full of wet leaves for her pains, and reached the structure in the next moment.

The ground inside the half hut was dry. Geoffrey sat there, wrapped in a blanket that looked as if it had come from the stables. “I heard you coming all the way,” he said. “You can’t sneak through the woods like a red Indian.”

“No,” said Jean. Ignoring the fate of her cloak, she sat down cross-legged, facing him. The place felt even more enclosed on this cloudy day. She pushed aside her nervousness. The cocoon of branches was not closing in on her. “Are you warm enough?”

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