“Thank heavens, you’ve returned, Captain,” a younger man said.
A footman, perhaps? He wasn’t in livery, but he had the air of a house servant.
“William? Is something amiss?” Fox snatched up his walking stick and stepped out of the carriage, swaying slightly when his feet hit the ground.
Involuntarily, Leah reached out a hand to him. Was her husband still impaired from all his drink earlier? Or was his leg simply stiff from the carriage ride?
Fox dug his walking stick into the cobbles of the drive, righting himself quickly enough without assistance.
“We’ve lost Miss Madeline,” William said.
Leah’s heart leapt to a gallop.
Gracious! What had happened?!
Fox, however, was more sanguine.
“Not again.” He slapped his hat against his thigh.
“Aye. Again. And Cook left this morning, not long after yourself.”
“Again?” Another sigh from Fox. Another slap of his hat.
“Again,” William confirmed. “Cook said preparing a meal tae welcome the new mistress was beyond herself.” The footman shot Leah an apologetic look.
“Damn and blast.” Fox’s shoulders sagged in a gesture that Leah could only describe as . . . defeated. “No dinner, I take it.”
William winced. “Bethany tried her hand at lunch, but it didnae go well.”
A beat.
Fox arrowed a look at William, the rather penetrating stare of a former army captain. “You seem more concerned than usual about Madeline.”
“She’s been gone a wee while,” William nodded, his spine straightening under the weight of Fox’s gaze. “What with Cook leaving, it took us a bit tae understand that Madeline had disappeared.”
Fox’s entire demeanor sharpened. Eyes narrowing further, a rigid sense of command stiffened his spine.
“Where did you last see her?” he asked. “Please tell me she is, at least, within the castle. The doors remained locked, did they not?”
“Aye. That was the first thing we checked. But ye ken how she is—Mr. Dandy always leads a merry chase.”
“Blasted cat,” Fox muttered, walking up the three stone steps to the castle door, leaning heavily on his walking stick, William at his heels.
Leaving Leah behind and quite forgotten.
Well.
That had to count as the shortest, most uneventful honeymoon known to womankind—a three-hour carriage ride and quarter-hour of conversation.
She managed a wan smile for the coachman, who at least had the courtesy to let down the steps and extend a hand to assist her. The voluminous mass of her skirts demanded help, as she could scarcely see her own feet without exposing her calves.
Standing on the paving stones, Leah lifted her head, surveying her new home. She had visited Laverloch once when her mother yet lived. Her father had enjoyed a passing acquaintance with Major McAlpin, and the Major had invited them up the glen for a lovely afternoon luncheon one July. Then, the castle had seemed a magical place, settled into a valley, the jagged peaks of Corrie Finn stretching beyond it. A romantic Highland fortress where one could nearly hear the echo of clan warfare and bagpipes calling men to arms.
Now, looking up, up, up its weathered walls, Laverloch appeared just as weary and worn as Fox himself. Leah could instantly see signs of neglect in the peeling paint around window casements and the weeds attempting to take root in the cracks between stone blocks.
She looked back at the coachman.
“Thank ye, Mr. . . .” She let the sentence linger.
