“We know she went to Greyline Holdings,” Barrington said, his voice quiet but clipped. “We know she changed her meeting time with you to give herself more time beforehand. And we know she never arrived.”
His finger tapped once on the map. Then stopped.
Eliza stepped closer, her voice low. “But why would she go alone? She’s not reckless.”
“No,” Barrington agreed. “But she is deliberate. If she thought she could gain information without drawing attention, she would have done it herself.”
“She would have told someone.”
“Not if she didn’t think it was dangerous.”
Eliza studied the edge of the map. There was a small ink blot near the word Alnmouth. It looked like a tiny, perfect bruise.
“Are you worried?” she asked.
Barrington hesitated. “Not yet.” He didn’t look up. “She’s resourceful. If she needed time to follow something privately, she’d take it.”
“Without telling anyone?” Eliza said. “Without sending a note?”
He glanced at her then, but only briefly. “She may have meant to.”
The wind stirred against the windows, rattling one of the shutters in a soft, restless rhythm.
Eliza turned from the table and paced once toward the hearth, then back again. “And if she found something? Something she didn’t expect?”
Barrington didn’t answer right away. The fire popped. Somewhere in the hallway beyond, footsteps passed. They didn’t pause.
“She’s strong,” he said at last.
“I know,” Eliza said, her throat tight. “But even strong women disappear.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, the sound of fear pretending to be reason.
Barrington’s eyes finally lifted to meet hers. “Then we’ll find her.”
Outside, the wind scraped the windows again. But inside, the study remained silent.
Eliza and Everly stood near the hearth in the drawing room, just beyond the reach of the fire’s warmth. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, the flicker of the flames not quite brave enough to chase them all away.
Everly held an untouched glass in one hand. His other rested lightly against the back of a chair, as though he had simply wandered in for polite conversation. He looked entirely at ease, and perhaps that was what unsettled Eliza most. When the rest of the house was fraying at the edges, he remained composed. Calm. Almost reassuring.
“If there’s anything I can do,” he said, voice low and unhurried, “please say so. I know the harbor well. There are men there who keep their ears open more than their mouths. Quiet men. Loyal ones.”
Eliza managed to smile. It was small and brief, like a candle struggling against the wind. “That’s generous of you. Thank you.”
Everly studied her, but not too intently. Just enough. His expression, a faint crease of concern between his brows, but nothing too dramatic, was perfectly schooled. Nothing that might look like performance.
“Someone like Lady Ravenstock doesn’t simply vanish,” he said. His tone was mild, but something in it made her skin prickle, calm and too smooth to be kind.
“No,” Eliza murmured. “Not her.”
“She’s far too clever. Far too cautious. If she’s gone quiet, there’s a reason.”
The words were meant to comfort. And they did. They soothed her, just enough to stop the trembling that had reached her fingers.
He paused. “I’ll speak to a man I trust,” he added. “He’s kept quiet about worse. If she passed through the harbor alone or with someone, he’ll know.”
Eliza hesitated. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to put you in a difficult position.”
“It’s no difficulty.” Everly offered a faint smile, one almost too well-measured. “Let’s just say it’s long overdue.”
