As Oscar turned his attention to Kiernan and began talking to him, Zaira made her way into the kitchen.
Jenny, at the washtub scrubbing dishes, paused and stared at Zaira. Gavin was in the middle of adding something to a pot on the stove, and he halted to look at her too.
Zaira gave them both a smile. If they hadn’t already overheardOscar’s pronouncement about matching her and Bellamy, they could probably guess why she was at the pub. “Could either of you please tell me where Bellamy went and when he’ll be expected back?”
Jenny’s dark brown eyes, so much like Bellamy’s, were filled with curiosity as she took Zaira in. Did the young woman believe Zaira was about to join their family, perhaps even work in the kitchen alongside her?
Not that Zaira was opposed to hard work or washing dishes or peeling potatoes or whatever else people did in a kitchen. But that was one of the reasons why she longed to put off marriage for a little while—because she didn’t want other things to interfere with her time to research and write her books. Someday, she would embrace managing a house and motherhood and all that came with it, but not at the present.
“He didn’t tell us where he was going.” Jenny’s arms were submerged in murky water up to her elbows, and her apron was wet all down the front. “Only that he had to see about some things.”
“Do you mind if I go out and check if he’s back?” She nodded in the direction of the door.
“Feel free.”
Zaira exited the kitchen, and the moment the door closed behind her, she raced across the alley to the shed. She knocked softly on the door. “Seamus? Moya?”
Only silence greeted her. Maybe they were too afraid to answer, didn’t realize it was her, didn’t recognize her voice.
“It’s me, Zaira.” She leaned in and continued to speak quietly. “The woman you met last night.”
Still there was no response.
It was possible the two were asleep.
She tugged at the door, expecting it to be latched, but it swung open effortlessly. Her gaze landed on the place where she’d made the blanket beds for the two last night. Nothing was there. The blankets, pillows, bowls of food, and mugs of milk—there wasn’t a trace of them or the children, almost as if they’d never even been in the shed.
She scanned the small area again, hoping for some clue as to where the children were. “Bellamy found their father already and took them to be reunited.” That had to be it. She stepped outside and this time surveyed the surrounding area.
At the sight of a lean but muscular man riding down the alley in the direction the pub, she breathed out, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest. Bellamy was coming. Surely he would have answers on the whereabouts of the children, and surely he could make his father understand their desire to have a courtship and nothing more.
With the brim of his flatcap pulled low, Bellamy’s face was shadowed. Even so, she could see the tension in his shoulders. As he neared the pub, he slowed his mount. Instead of turning toward the stables next to the shed, he brought his horse to a halt beside her.
“Where are Seamus and Moya?” She didn’t bother with a greeting. “I’m really hoping you’ll tell me they’re back with their father.” Not just because she loved happily-ever-afters, which she did, but also because she truly wanted what was best for the children.
He didn’t bother with a greeting either. “When I came out this morning to check on them, they were gone.”
12
The children had run off. Bellamy hated to be the one to deliver the news to Zaira. He’d known how disappointed she would be, especially after how invested in them she’d been last night.
“No.” Zaira released the word breathlessly, almost as if the air had been knocked out of her. Was she wobbling?
He swung his leg over his mount and hopped down, reaching for her arm to steady her.
She’d turned her eyes upon him, dismay darkening the green hue to the color of the Glendalough Valley’s heather-flecked hills. One of the paintings in the pub was of that very valley and the mountain ridge he’d hiked to often as a boy—one that overlooked a glacial lake below.
“Where did they go?” Her question was infused with an urgency he’d felt earlier—the urgency to go after them and bring them back.
“I’ve been out for the past couple of hours searching every place I could think of, asking around, and even going to thepolice station to see if any officers on patrol saw the two or took them to one of the orphanages.”
“And...?”
“And I haven’t had any luck, not even a wee bit.”
She closed her eyes briefly before opening them and blinking back tears. “Why did they run away? We were going to help them.”
He’d already had time to think about the matter as he’d searched. “My guess is that Seamus doesn’t trust any adults, probably because someone previously claiming to help him and his sister betrayed or put them in an orphanage against their will. The only thing to be doing now is pray they stay safe—”
