“Who has taken my baby?” Duchess Thea’s enraged wail cut through the room. She stamped her gleaming cane hard against the floor as she thundered toward the servants. “Who has come into this house and betrayed me? Who dared hurt my Celia?”
Gransdon turned and glowered down the line of those assigned to keep the household in order. “You will each give Her Grace an account of yourselves throughout this day,” he growled. “Every moment up until this very last minute!”
With a furious scowl, Mrs. Camp turned, tugged her Henry out of the way, and glared at the wide-eyed maids, footmen, gardener, and cook. “Where are the grooms and coachman?” she asked.
Elias stepped forward, weighing their expressions, noting their nervous shuffling in place. It hit him that one very familiar face was missing. “Where is Friedrich?”
The duchess whacked her cane against the wall, appearing ready to beat the information out of some unlucky soul. “Where is he?”
Gransdon stepped out of line again and paced back and forth in front of the other servants. He stopped in front of the footman named Reginald and jabbed a finger at him. “You were with Friedrich earlier, setting up extra seating in the dining room and removing the dividing wall between the parlor and anteroom. Where is he?”
The tall, spindly young man stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. “Not certain, Mr. Gransdon. Last I saw of him, he had gone to fetch another table from storage. Told me to finish up here in the drawing room and that he would tidy up the rest.” He proffered a nervous bow to the duchess. “I swear, Your Grace. That was last I saw of him, and I been nowhere near Lady Cecilia all day.” He shook his head so hard that he stumbled sideways. “I would never hurt her ladyship, Your Grace. Not for no amount of money.”
“Money,” Elias repeated. That had to be what this was about. “I want the man found, and I want the Bow Street Runners sent for. Ask for Jack Portney.”
“And Thomas Elkin,” the duchess added. She whacked her cane against the wall again. “Do it now!”
Mrs. Camp shoved Henry toward the door. After the boy bobbed his head at Elias, he took off like a shot.
Elias turned to Monty. “Have your coachman get with the grooms to search the stable and check for missing horses.”
“I can show you the shorter way, Your Grace.” Reginald stepped forward and waited for permission to do so.
Elias waved him on, and Monty rushed out after the footman, heading toward the back of the house.
“You. Gardener. Your name?” Elias pointed at the older gentleman clutching his hat and work gloves against his middle.
“Abraham, my lord. Abraham Mulderny.”
“It is my understanding that Friedrich helped you with certain areas of the garden. Is that true?” Elias moved closer, glaring at the man who seemed either unwilling or unable to look him in the eye. “You would do well to answer honestly. I have no patience whatsoever at the moment.”
The man bobbed his head, then nervously scrubbed a gnarled hand across his sparse tufts of white hair. “That Friedrich boy built that there waterfall in the corner where it stayed too wet for anything to grow.” He twisted his hat and gloves as if trying to wring them out. “But that was all. That one there—” He shook his head and looked ready to spit. “That one didn’t much care for digging in the dirt or planting. Just wanted to build stuff that ain’t never been done afore so he could tell you how smart he was. Awful braggart, he was.”
So the man probably not only wanted money but also crowing rights about what he had done. Elias turned to the duchess. “How long has Friedrich been in your employ?”
“Years.” The duchess frowned with a faraway look in her narrowing eyes. “At least five or more. He was with us in Germany and—”
Elias held up a hand and stopped her. “We should speak in private, Your Grace.”
She nodded and turned to the ladies who seemed to Elias to be a great deal more to the duchess and Celia than mere friends. “You know I trust you, my dearest sisters, but please avail yourselves of the food in the dining room.” A shuddering breath left her as she appeared to be struggling to maintain her composure. “We must all keep up our strength for when we find Celia and can proceed with the ceremony.”
Reverend Neville and his wife came forward, sympathy filling their faces. “We shall pray for Lady Cecilia’s quick and safe return, Your Grace,” he said. They turned in unison to Elias. “Have faith, my lord. Your lady will be found.”
Damn right she would be, but Elias didn’t speak the vow aloud. He gave a perfunctory nod, then offered his arm to the duchess. “The library or the parlor, Your Grace?”
“Library.” She took his arm and marked each of their steps with a hardpingof her cane against the marble floor of the hallway.
Strangely enough, the maids had lit the candles in the room. While Elias found that somewhat odd, he decided to check into it later. At the moment, finding Celia was all that mattered.
He led the duchess to one of the more comfortable chairs in front of the hearth, helped her settle into the seat, then crossed back to the door and closed it. “I need a drink, Your Grace. Would you like one?”
“Most definitely,” she said with a flick of her hand in the direction of the liquor cabinet. “Do help yourself, Lord Raines, and do not give me cause to accuse you of a stingy pour.”
As Elias poured a generous brandy for them both, he tossed a concerned look at her back over his shoulder. “Should we send for Dr. MacMaddenly?”
Her eyes flared with alarm as she pressed a trembling hand to the base of her throat. “Do you fear Celia harmed?” Her voice broke, making Elias wish he had phrased the question in a more considerate manner. The woman had a bad heart and was tormented enough as it was.
“I do not fear Celia has been harmed,” he said, hoping that was true. “My concern was for you, Your Grace. This situation does not promote a healthy state for anyone—much less someone with a weakness of the heart.”
