Margaret stopped on the stair behind the blond second footman. Betty stood beside her.
“What’s happening, Craig?” Betty whispered.
He shrugged.
Margaret looked down past the waiting flock of servants to the four people standing on the other side of the hall facing them. Standing a little apart from the men, Mrs. Budgeon surveyed the group, as though mentally counting their ranks. Appearing satisfied, she turned to the three men—Mr. Hudson, Nathaniel Upchurch, and...
Margaret froze.Sterling Benton. Here. Now.Standing for all intents and purposes in the same room with her. Her heart rate accelerated, thudding hard.
Sterling made an impressive and commanding presence with his silver hair, deep blue frock coat, and ebony walking stick. His hat was carefully held by the under butler, but he had not surrendered his coat. Hopefully that meant he did not intend to stay long.
Mr. Hudson said something to Nathaniel. Nathaniel nodded and took a half step forward, facing them squarely and clearing his throat.
“Good afternoon, everyone. This gentleman is Mr. Sterling Benton of London. I will let him tell you why he is here and ask that you give him your full attention.”
Sterling stepped forward, turning something in his hands.
“I am here today because my stepdaughter has been missing for nearly a month. My dear wife, her mother, is beside herself, as you can well imagine.”
Margaret could hardly breathe.
“I don’t know why she left. She did have a bit of a... lover’s quarrel... with her intended, and may have flown in a fit of pique. She is an impulsive girl, I admit. But whatever the reason, I want to find her and return her safely to her mother, and to her repentant future husband. All will be forgiven. We simply want her home.”
He lifted the object in his hands. A miniature portrait. “This is her likeness, painted several years ago. I would like you to pass it one person to the next, so each may see it. Her name is Margaret Macy. She is four and twenty years old. If any of you have seen her, please speak up. Or, if anyone sees her after I leave, tell the steward here and he promises to send word directly.”
Margaret’s ears buzzed; her chest, neck, and face felt hot and sticky. While each person looked at the portrait, then passed it on, Sterling Benton looked closely at him or her. Looking for a reaction, or forher?
The minutes felt like painful hours standing on broken glass. Fearing she might faint, Margaret forced herself to breathe deeply, barely resisting the urge to pant, or duck down, or flee.
Finally the portrait reached the row ahead of them. Craig looked at it quickly, shook his head, and passed it up to Betty. Betty glanced at it, hesitated, looked again, then handed it to Margaret. Margaret swallowed. How strange to see her former image while in her current circumstances. How young the girl in the portrait looked, light yellow hair curled and piled high around her face, fair brows above proud blue eyes, pale cheeks, and pink lips. It didn’t seem like her. Not anymore.
“Do you recognize her?” Sterling Benton called up.
Too late, Margaret realized she had held on to the portrait too long and had drawn attention to herself. She quickly handed it back to Betty with a shake of her head. She dug an elbow into Betty’s side.
“Uh no, sir,” Betty answered for her. “Sorry, sir. She’s a pretty thing though.”
Mrs. Budgeon called up, “Mr. Benton did not ask for an assessment of her beauty, Betty, but thank you.”
The portrait made its way back down more rapidly, passed from hand to hand. Mrs. Budgeon gave it to Mr. Hudson, who glanced at it, looked again, and then murmured, “Betty is correct.”
He passed it to Nathaniel Upchurch, who returned it to Sterling Benton without a glance.
Sterling looked around the hall once more before pinning Nathaniel with a look. “And where is your good sister?”
Nathaniel said evenly, “My sister is not much out in society these days, so it is highly unlikely she would have come across Mar... your stepdaughter.”
Sterling gave a thin smile. “Still, she is a woman, and women can be so much more discerning than men, I find. Don’t you?”
Nathaniel stared at the man. Without looking away from him, he said crisply, “Mrs. Budgeon, would you please send for Miss Upchurch?”
“Yes, sir.”
But Mrs. Budgeon, looking up at the crowd blocking the stairs, speared Margaret with a look and commanded, “Nora, please ask your mistress to join us.”
Margaret did not move, the words barely registering in her frozen brain. It was Betty’s turn to elbow her. Coming to life, Nora turned and hurried up the stairs, feeling a pair of eyes scorching her back.
She all but ran down the corridor and into Helen’s room without knocking. She rushed straight to the washstand. “Your presence is requested in the hall, miss.”
