The maid practically tumbled down the stairs. She leaned against the sitting room door and confronted Gavin. “Why was it urgent for you to see Charlene?”
Her subservient manner had disappeared.
“I beg your pardon?”
True concern furrowed her brow. “Your reason for this unannounced visit, Your Grace? What is it?”
“I believe that information is for Lady Charlene or her guardian.” He referred to Lady Baldwin and so was caught off guard by the maid’s next declaration.
“Iamher guardian. I am her aunt. Mrs.Sarah Pettijohn. Now why did you seek my niece at this hour of the morning and with urgency? Tell me, Your Grace,please.”
Her aunt had always been here? Pretending to be a maid?
“Your Grace, does your visit involveyour brother?”
Now she had his attention. “I have some concerns about him,” he admitted, confused by both her conjecture and her manner.
“Do you know where he is?”
Alarmed, he answered truthfully, “I thought he might possibly be here.”
“He is not, Your Grace, but neither is my niece. Instead of being in her bed, she has shaped her cloak into the form of a body and covered it with blankets. I know of no other way to say this except honestly—there is a possibility that your brother and my Char are together.”
She whirled around, going to hooks by the door where a red cloak and shawls were hanging. She chose the cloak. “I pray they are still in the city.”
“Do you mean they could have eloped?” This possibility had never crossed Gavin’s mind.
“Exactly that.” She threw the cloak around her shoulders. “We must go to the wharves and search the ships. I can’t believe she would do this. Charlene is not a flighty child. She knows that eloping would upset me, and yet she can be willful. Wait, I must send word to the theater that I will not be in today.” She had been speaking to herself and came back into the sitting room, going for the desk by the window where several of his arrangements of flowers sat. She started pulling out paper.
“The theater?” Gavin said, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“Yes, I’m an actress.”
“And not a maid?” he repeated dumbly, attempting to wrap his mind around her change of status.
She pinned him with a sharp green gaze. “I do answer the door and clean the house.” She put her attention back to the note before blowing on the ink to dry it.
“Who exactly is Lady Baldwin?” Gavin asked. In truth, he’d always thought Lady Baldwin a bit odd.
“A family friend. Well, more than that,” she clarified as she folded the note and addressed the back of it to someone. “Lady Baldwin is Charlene’s mother’s godmother. She is very dear to us.”
“But she is not what I was led to believe?”
Mrs.Pettijohn straightened. “Shedidchaperone Char to routs and parties and as her great-godmother, so to speak, I believe her actions are completely proper. It would have not been out of place.” She started for the front door, her note in her hand—
“Stop,” he ordered.
She did. He walked over and took the note from her. He looked at the address on the outside, recognizing the handwriting. “You were the one who sent the note to me Sunday evening about your concern that Lady Charlene was forming an attachment for my twin. Not Lady Baldwin.”
Mrs. Pettijohn swallowed. “I did.” Her shoulders slumped. She raised a hand to her forehead. “Dear Lord, I did. What did you do with that information?”
“I confronted my brother.”
“Did you tell him the note was from this house?”
“He believes I had him followed by a man I use for such purposes.”
“And he said?”
