It was now past four, and Georgina had not returned.
Mrs. Hemsley moved through the lower rooms with practiced efficiency, no drama, no panic. But with each empty chair, each unruffled curtain, the disquiet in her chest deepened.
In the library, only dust motes kept her company.
The breakfast room had been cleared, the dishes long since washed.
Georgina’s room was tidy. Unlived in since morning.
She called to one of the footmen who’d been polishing silver near the dining room.
“Has Lady Ravenstock returned?”
“No, ma’am. Not since she left this morning. She said she’d onlybe a few hours.”
“And the gentlemen?”
“Mr. Barrington rode out to Sommer Chase. Said he’d return in time for dinner.”
She hesitated. “And Lord Weld?”
The footman shook his head. “No one’s seen him since he left early. Not sure where to.”
She pressed her lips together. Alex hadn’t said where he was going, but that wasn’t unusual. Still… both men gone. Georgina overdue.
“Has a note come from Miss Eliza?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Mrs. Hemsley turned sharply. She crossed the entry hall, opened the front door herself, and stood beneath the covered portico for a long moment, watching the drive.
Nothing.
The stables yielded no fresh word. The horses had been watered and fed. The grooms had seen no sign of Lady Ravenstock since she’d left, and no one had been dispatched to collect her.
She returned inside, the hem of her gown darkened with dust, and gave her instructions without raising her voice.
“Ready the carriage,” she told Brandon. “I’m going to Sommer Chase.”
“To speak with Lord Barrington, ma’am?”
“To speak with someone,” she said.
And without spending time to change her gown or sending word ahead, she gathered her gloves and her resolve and prepared to find out exactly what in God’s name had happened to her ladyship. She thought of the way Lady Ravenstock had begun to laugh again, freely at last. The sound of it still echoed faintly in the halls she was about to leave.
The sound of carriage wheels on the gravel cut through the stillness like a warning bell.
Mrs. Hemsley paused in the act of fastening her cloak, the heavy wool hanging from her shoulders in a half-knot. She turned as one of the footmen passed by the open front door, wiping his hands on his waistcoat.
“A carriage just arrived from town, ma’am.”
She didn’t wait for a name.
The knock came before the bell could ring.
Mrs. Hemsley reached and opened the door. Her expression was already set in expectation.
Eliza stormed in before a word could be spoken.
