The butler nodded and shuffled out, carrying himself as if the weight of the world rested on his thin shoulders.
The longer it took Mrs. Havarerry to respond to her summons, the more Wolfe methodically reviewed the housekeeper he had never quite liked. Her only redeeming feature, other than running the household with the efficiency ofa combat veteran, was her ability to make soothing poultices for his bad knee. He recalled she was also the one who had refused to allow Sissy and Connor to speak with him on the night of Lady Longmorten’s London party, when that insufferable woman had informed Sissy that the twins were disposable. He tightened his fists so hard, every knuckle popped. Granted, he had been very busy that evening, but he had always made it quite clear that the twins had access to him no matter the circumstances or the hour. Perhaps Mrs. Havarerry was the betrayer he sought.
After another few, very long moments, he pushed up from his chair and went to the door. How dare the woman make him wait? “Mrs. Havarerry!” he bellowed down the hallway. “Report to the library at once.”
Instead, Feebson appeared at the end of the hall, hurrying his way. “Mrs. Havarerry is gone, Your Grace.”
“What the devil do you mean,gone?”
“Left the premises, Your Grace. Sam and Mathias said she lit out of here as if her petticoat was on fire.” The butler tipped a nod. “Begging your pardon. The maids said the same. Said she left without taking a thing with her. Soon as I went into the library to talk with you, out the door she went. Headed toward the village.”
“To the Longmortens at the inn, no doubt. I imagine she assumes they will ensure her of employment when she conveys to them that the children did not return home when I did.”
Feebson slowly shook his head. “I must be getting old, Your Grace, seeing as how I don’t understand how one has anything to do with the other.”
“It has come to my attention that the Longmortens wanted the children gone by any means necessary—be it legal or nefarious.”
The butler’s jaw dropped. “Hurt the children?”
“That is not to leave this room. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Feebson drew a shaking hand across his eyes. “Those poor mites. And Mrs. Havarerry was part of it?”
“By not informing me of the Longmortens’ inclinations? Yes. I demand loyalty from my household. Anyone not reporting threats or dangers to those I care about might as well strike the killing blow themselves, for I consider their hands just as bloody.”
His entire person trembling, Feebson bowed his head and whispered, “Would I have known, Your Grace, I swear I would have done whatever it took to save them. I am so very sorry.”
Still leery about his siblings’ safety, Wolfe chose not to come forth and actually tell the man that Connor and Sissy were safe and well. Mrs. Havarerry might not have been the only member of the household who had drawn closer to the potential mistresses of Wolfebourne Lodge by assisting them with whatever they wished. “Your loyalty is duly noted and appreciated, Feebson. Thank you.”
“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?” the butler asked, his manner dejected and his voice cracking with emotion. “Shall I send for the constable?”
“Not yet, and do be good enough to send in the footmen one at a time, thank you.”
Wolfe watched the man go, wrestling with his conscience about allowing the faithful servant to believe Connor and Sissy were gone forever. It couldn’t be helped. Until he had spoken with every individual who had ever come into contact with his little brother and sister and felt certain they were loyal and trustworthy, the twins’ whereabouts and the condition of their health could not be shared. He had but a short time to complete this investigation, seeing as how the infamous Broadmere picnic was in a few days. Then all would see Connor and Sissy and know them to be hale and hearty—and the fun and games would truly begin.
Chapter Eleven
“Never shout atthem.” Grace loosened the puppy’s determined grip on Sissy’s hemline by gently prying open its little jaws, then offering it a thick square of scrap leather to chew in its place. “Give them a firmno, then once you disengage them, distract them with something else to teethe on and praise them when they take it. Puppies learn a great deal from your tone and how you behave. You must always be kind and consistent. If you do that, you’ll not only win their trust and loyalty, but their love.”
“Won’t Lucy be sad when you give her babies away?” Sissy scooped up the runt of the litter and cuddled the wiggly bundle of white and brindle close. “Won’tyoube sad to see them go?” Her cat Galileo flattened his ears, jealousy filling his golden-eyed glare locked on the puppy.
Grace wouldn’t lie to the child who already knew her too well. “I will be sad to see them go, and I imagine Lucy will miss them too. That’s why I need you and Connor to help me find good homes for them—homes we can visit.”
“We should keep them all,” Connor said with a decisive nod as his dog Hector herded the puppies in a somewhat contained grouping on the grassy area beneath the old oak in the back garden. “Think on it. When you marry Wolfe and bring your dogs with you, this lot could stay here. That way both houses would have a fine kennel of dogs.”
“Connor!” Grace glanced around to ensure they were truly alone. “Mind your words, please? Remember our intentions to keep everything quiet until the proper time?”
“But everyone here already knows.” He dangled a knotted rag in front of one of the pups. It immediately latched on to it for a rousing game of tug-of-war. “Even the servants know. Sissy and I heard Cook and Mrs. Flackney talking about it just yesterday, plain as could be.”
Grace didn’t doubt that a bit. Secrets were a rare thing in the Broadmere household. “And what did they say?”
Connor grinned. “That my brother will have his hands full, but he’ll be the happiest man in the world once he gets used to how you do things.”
Grace wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or pleased. “Regardless of what you heard, we must still guard our words. If the Earl of Middlebie gets wind of the news, he is sure to share it with the world. He is a well-meaning man but a worse gossip than a gaggle of old women.”
“Merry says that’s because he’s a Scot,” Sissy said. “She also thinks he can’t hear too good, and that may be why he talks so loud.”
“Merry could be right. We must bear that in mind whenever we speak to his lordship.” Grace strolled away from them to the bench against the outer wall of the kitchen. She settled down on it and lifted her face to the gentle warmth of the sun. Freckles could just be damned.
