The corner of her mouth curled, and she glanced at him from under her lashes. He’d hazard a guess that she was enjoying their flirtation and was more than a little proud of herself for participating in it.
That pleased him. Thrilled him, in fact. He leaned closer to brush his arm against her side as he pretended to adjust his grip.
They were so close that he heard her breath catch, then to his delight, she shifted forward to adjust the ribbon and deliberately pressed her thigh against his.
He blew out a breath, wondering how he was going to survive the next hour of working on the wreaths without doing what he’d told Frances he wanted to do.
Frances finished the bow and smiled with satisfaction. “It’s perfect.”
Before he could respond, a footman appeared at his elbow. “Mr. Sinclair, a message for you.”
“Thank you.” Thomas set down the wreath and took the paper, his stomach sinking, certain it wasn’t good news. He opened the paper and read his mother’s words, then read them again, hoping he’d misread it.
Peter is missing.
Thomas bolted to his feet, his chest tightening as he tried to think of where the boy could be.
“What is it?” Frances asked, standing as well.
“Peter is missing.”
Her eyes darkened with concern. “Oh, no.”
“I need to go.” Remorse struck him. He’d been here, enjoying himself rather than searching for the boy’s family. It didn’t matter that he’d run out of ideas of where to look. He should’ve tried something—anything—to find them.
“Of course.” She squeezed his arm. “If there’s anything I can do to help—”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch once I know more.” He glanced around the room, intending to offer an explanation for his departure.
But his mind was blank, his thoughts solely on Peter. Then he hurried from the room, worry threatening to overwhelm him. Where could the boy have gone and why?
Frances watched Thomas rush from the room, wishing she could do something—anything—to help.
“What happened?” Eliza asked, concern etching her features as she neared Frances.
“The message brought bad news.” Frances’ heart ached for Thomas. His affection for Peter had been evident yesterday when she’d met the boy. “A boy in his care has gone missing.”
Frances had told a few of the league members about Peter yesterday but not everyone had come to the workhouse for the update on the training. Now, she wished she would’ve taken the time to explain how urgent the need was to find his family.
“How terrible.” Eliza glanced at Harriet, who joined them, and Eliza shared what Frances had told her.
“The boy you mentioned yesterday?” Harriet asked, and Frances nodded. “Oh, dear.”
Then Lord Bolton and Lord Linford drew close along with Viscount Garland.
“Where did Sinclair go so quickly?” Linford asked with a frown.
Suddenly, it felt as if everyone was staring at her, expecting her to explain what had happened. Her heartbeat sped, and she could hardly draw a breath.
“The message brought unfortunate news?” Lord Bolton asked.
“H-he—” Frances tried to force out the words even as a hot flush swept over her from head to toe. Not now, she told herself. Not when she needed to tell them why Thomas had departed. “The b-boy. He left.”
She shook her head aware she wasn’t making any sense. Anger took hold at her ridiculous behavior, but she still couldn’t think of what to say, let alone force out any words.
“The German lad?” Viscount Garland asked.
Frances nodded.
