So Maddie had run away. Hart thanked Henry and strode around to the front door. He rapped smartly on the knocker. After several minutes, a maid answered.
Hart offered his card. “I wish to see Mr. Wakeham.”
She bobbed and hurried away.
A moment later, she returned to admit him into the parlor. Wakeham rose from his chair.
“Good day, Mr. Wakeham. I bring you news about the repairs,” Hart said, crossing the carpet to shake the man’s hand.
Wakeham’s handshake was limp, his appearance disorderly. His neckcloth appeared to have been tied hastily. The lines around his mouth seemed deeper. He looked unhappy to see Hart, but that wasn’t surprising. He didn’t like Hart any more than Hart liked him. “Good of you to keep me informed. May I offer you a drink?”
“No, thank you. You’ll be pleased to hear our lands have been banked up in that section of the river, which floods. It was not in our agreement, but as I had to do it, I made sure the change was beneficial to you as well.”
“Thank you,” Wakeham said in his cool voice. He nodded toward a chair.
Hart sat and studied the man. “All the broken-down fences are up. I have turnips and wheat sown in the south fields and I hope for rain.”
Wakeham grunted. He appeared to want nothing more than to be left alone.
Hart refused to oblige him without learning more, whether the man welcomed him there or not. “The groom tells me Lady Madeline left without leaving word of her direction. Surely that cannot be true?”
Wakeham paled. He straightened in his chair, holding the arms as if for support. “The wretched girl ran away.”
“Do you know why?”
“No. She didn’t bother to leave a note of explanation.” Wakeham shrugged. “Madeline has never been happy here, always wanting something else. Something better.” He glowered. “Her mourning period is barely over, although to her, society’s rules don’t seem to count for much. She’ll be back soon enough when she discovers how hard it is out there without my largess. I took her in out of the goodness of my heart. And this is the thanks I get.”
“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
“Her aunt in Bath, I imagine. I have written to her and await her reply.”
Hart fought to keep his temper at the man’s lack of affection and concern for his niece’s safety. “You did not think it prudent to look for her?”
“I saw no sense in careering around the countryside when she could be anywhere. It is best to wait.” Wakeham stood, his pretense as a polite host at an end. “If that is all, Lord Montford?”
Hart could do nothing other than put on his hat and leave. Outside, he turned and stared up at the second-story windows. They looked blankly back down at him. It looked like Maddie had left with little thought to her safety. What made her take such a step? Wakeham must have something to do with it. His lack of concern for his niece bothered Hart as he walked back to the stables to retrieve Blaze.
“Henry,” he called as he approached the groom oiling saddles. “That strap on Lady Madeline’s saddle. How do you think it came to be cut?”
Henry’s blue eyes flared angrily. He checked to make sure they were alone before answering. “Someone sliced a knife through the leather, leaving just enough to hold it together until put under strain,” he said, lowering his voice.
Hart rubbed his neck. “It was deliberate?”
“I’d stake my life on it, milord.”
“Did you mention this to Mr. Wakeham?”
He shook his head. “Lady Madeline told me not to.”
“Do you know who Lady Madeline’s relatives are?”
“Yes, milord. I worked for the family before her parents died.”
“It was a coach accident, was it not?”
Henry nodded. “The drag-shaft broke, and the horses bolted.”
“A tragic business. Where might I find her?”
