“Where is she?” She demanded, cheeks flushed from the wind, curls tumbling from beneath her hat. “Where is Georgina?”
The air snapped tight.
Mrs. Hemsley stepped aside to allow her in fully. “You tell me. She was to meet you at half eleven.”
“She never came,” Eliza said, her voice sharp, not from anger, but from something far more brittle. “I waited. I waited an hour, and then I walked the entire length of the park, thinking she’d been delayed. I even went to the bookshop to ask if she’d stopped in. She hadn’t.”
Mrs. Hemsley closed the door behind them and gestured toward the drawing room. “Sit down.”
“I don’t want tea.”
“I didn’t offer it.”
Eliza stalked inside, pacing a short line near the hearth. “I thought she might have returned here without telling me. But when I saw the state of the drive, no carriage, no new tracks, then I knew.”
Mrs. Hemsley folded her hands at her waist. “We haven’t seen her since she left this morning. She said she was meeting you. No one else.”
“Well, she didn’t,” Eliza snapped, then caught herself. She let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just—”
“Worried,” Mrs. Hemsley said calmly. “As am I.”
Not after she’d finally let herself believe she was safe again. That she could walk freely without fear. And now this.
They stared at one another for a moment. Two women of very different natures, drawn together by the same fire.
“Has anyone been sent to look for her?” Eliza asked.
“I was preparing to ride to Sommer Chase,” Mrs. Hemsley replied. “Mr. Barrington left for there earlier this morning. I thought he might have some word.”
“And Alex?”
Mrs. Hemsley hesitated. “Left at dawn. No word since. No one seems to know where.”
Eliza’s brows rose. “She didn’t say she was meeting him?”
“No. Only you.”
Eliza folded her arms, wrapping them around her own ribcage like a shield. “She wouldn’t disappear. Not without telling someone. Not after everything.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Mrs. Hemsley said firmly.
She turned to the footman now standing in the corridor. “Send for Mr. Barrington’s man, if he’s returned. Then tell Brandon to bring the carriage to the front.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hemsley looked back at Eliza. “You’ll stay here. In case she returns.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You’re not. If she arrives and finds the house empty—”
Eliza exhaled through her nose, frustrated, but nodded. “Fine. But if she’s not back in an hour—”
“Then we’ll raise hell together,” Mrs. Hemsley said.
And with that, she turned, cloak snapping behind her as she strode out toward the carriage.
The wheels of the Ravenstock carriage hadn’t even stopped groaning when Mrs. Hemsley stepped down onto the gravel with the forceof someone who had no intention of being received. Not received. Obeyed.
