“Not exactly, but as I was in the vicinity, I thought to call on her. I’m a neighbor of Mr. Wakeham’s.”
She frowned. “Maddie is impulsive, but she’s a sensible girl. I cannot imagine her going away without saying where. Please do sit, milord.”
He eased aside a ball of wool and knitting needles and sat. “I was told she planned to visit someone, but must have mistaken her direction,” he said, not wishing to worry her. “It’s of no consequence; it was merely a courtesy call.”
She poured the tea into flowery cups, then brought the milk jug and sugar bowl to the table. He thanked her as she placed a plate of buttered scones down within his reach. He saw she would have been an excellent nanny. Small and efficient, but with a softness in her features which told him she would be kind to the children in her care.
It was some hours since he’d eaten. He ate one of the delicious scones appreciatively and reached for another while Miss Greyson expressed the view that Maddie would have gone to her aunt in Bath.
“Ah, I see, my mistake.”
She scrutinized him. “What is your interest in Maddie, sir?”
“Only as her friend and neighbor.”
“I see.” Miss Greyson looked doubtful, but said no more.
Hart spent an hour with her, talking, or rather listening. He came away knowing more about Maddie than he suspected she might like, her nanny painting a picture of a determined girl, sometimes difficult to constrain, but good-hearted and excited for the future when she left the schoolroom and could put up her hair and go to London.
Maddie was not that girl now, he thought, as he set the horses on the road to Bath. But, given the chance, she would be again. If she arrived safely in Bath. Hart didn’t doubt her courage, but the thought of her, alone and at the mercy of unscrupulous men, pickpockets and the like, drew a curse from his lips. He would ride through the night if he could, but instead must put up at a coaching inn to rest his horses. If he left at first light, he’d reach Bath around midday.
The following day, the sun was high in the sky when he reached Lady Elizabeth’s townhouse. It was one of a long row that swept down the hill. A small, drooping figure hovered uncertainly on the steps. Hart had seen the girl before. As he approached, he recognized the freckle-faced maid who had peered at him over the top of the boundary wall between his and Wakeham’s properties. “You are Lady Madeline’s maid. What is your name?”
“Jane Frost, Lord Montford.” She sniffed and wiped away tears with a finger.
“I wish to see your mistress. Shall we go inside?”
Her eyes widened. “But Lady Madeline is not here, milord. Her aunt is in London.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Where is Lady Madeline?”
“I don’t know.” She shivered, alarm in her eyes. “Milady and I were on our way to buy tickets for the stagecoach when it happened.”
“What happened, Jane?” Alarmed, he curbed his impatience for the girl was on the verge of hysteria.
“A carriage pulled up beside us in the street. The door opened, and a rough-looking man jumped down. He grabbed Lady Madeline and pushed her into the carriage.” She paused to take a breath. “Then the coachman whipped up the horses and they went away at a cracking pace with her inside.”
Fear rocketed through him. “How long ago was this?”
“I waited for ages, hoping they’d bring her back. When they didn’t, I walked up the hill. Her aunt is not here, and I wasn’t sure who to turn to.”
“An hour ago, do you think?”
She hesitated and then nodded.
It could have been longer, the girl wasn’t sure. Hart tightened his jaw. Could he catch up with them when they’d been gone so long? “Did you see which way they went?”
“I don’t know… I was that shocked.” She rubbed her arms. “I almost lost my wits.”
“Try to think.”
She nodded. “The carriage turned off at the bottom of the street. That way.” She turned and pointed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…yes. I remember now.”
On their way back to Tunbridge Wells? Where else could they take her? “Come inside, Jane.” He climbed the steps and knocked. When a maid answered, he handed her his card and requested to see the housekeeper.
