Hugo and Laurence exchanged glances. Before either could respond, Jenkins appeared in the doorway.
“Your Grace, forgive the interruption, but there are three small children outside demanding to see you. They’re quite insistent.”
Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Children? Ashcroft, have you extended your tyranny to terrorizing small children now? Is that what you’ve been doing in here?”
“I would never hurt children,” Laurence said coldly.
“They might be students from Miss Sinclair’s school,” Octavia suggested.
The three of them rose and made their way to the entrance hall, where indeed three children waited nervously. Two boys and a girl, all dressed in simple but clean clothes, all looking absolutely terrified.
They bowed in unison as Laurence approached, their eyes fixed on his scarred face with a mixture of fear and fascination.
Archimedes had followed Laurence from the study and now wound around his ankles, purring. The sight of the Duke with his intimidating scars holding a large orange cat seemed to confuse the children even more.
“Don’t be frightened,” Octavia said gently, kneeling to their level. “Tell us what you need.”
The girl, the one Laurence recognized from the night Joan had injured her wrist, took a trembling breath. “Thank you, Miss. I’m Imogen, and these are Percival and Edmund. We’re students at Miss Sinclair’s school.”
“We haven’t heard from Miss Sinclair in four days,” one of the boys, Edmund, added quickly. “Even our parents haven’t heard from her, which is strange.”
“And her sister won’t tell us anything,” Imogen continued, her voice wobbling. “We’re worried something’s happened to her.”
The other boy, Percival, was shaking so badly his teeth chattered. But he forced himself to speak, his words coming out in a rush. “Did… did you kill Miss Sinclair, Your Grace?”
Hugo burst out laughing. Laurence shot him a withering glare that immediately silenced him. Even Octavia was trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin.
The children trembled even more under Laurence’s stare.
“You’re scaring them,” Octavia whispered urgently.
Laurence inhaled slowly, forcing his expression to soften, a difficult task given the severity of his features. “I have not killed Miss Sinclair. I also have been trying to reach her for the past several days without success. I have no reason to harm her.”
I want to marry her,he thought.I want to keep her safe and happy and by my side for the rest of my life.
“Because you love her,” Edmund supplied helpfully.
Hugo snorted with barely suppressed laughter. Laurence glared at him until he composed himself.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” Laurence told the children sternly. “It’s not good for Miss Sinclair’s reputation when she’s trying to… when she needs to find a suitable husband.”
“But Miss Sinclair doesn’t care about marriage!” Imogen said brightly. “Even at her debut in London, she didn’t care about finding a husband. She told us so herself.”
Both boys nodded vigorously in agreement.
Laurence felt something click into place in his mind. Joan had no interest in marriage, she’d made that abundantly clear in every conversation they’d had. She’d turned down countless suitors during her debut. She’d devoted herself entirely to her family and her work.
So why would she suddenly announce she was getting married? Why would she push him away with such cold finality?
He looked at Octavia, who met his gaze with understanding in her eyes. She’d been right. Something was very wrong.
“Is Miss Victoria at the hall now?” Laurence asked the children.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Percival answered. “She’s been teaching the other students. We… we skipped school to come find you.”
Laurence turned to Jenkins. “Prepare the carriage. These children are coming with us.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
