Glenaire shrugged. "You want what you think your parents had: home, hearth, and love of the land. You don't need a dynastic marriage."
"Like you do?"
Glenaire acknowledged the truth with an inclination of his head.
"Oh, God, Will!" Sylvia burst into the men's refuge and threw herself at her brother. He hardly had time to register that she had called him by his Christian name, when she told him, "He's gone. Charles has run off!"
Chadbourn calmed her enough to get the story. She went up to the nursery to say goodnight to her son. "I mean to do it every night now. Emery said it made him weak but?—"
"Easy, Sylvia. You went up, and then what?"
"His bed lay empty. And I found this." She thrust a scrap of foolscap into his hand.
Mother, don't worry. Catherine ran away, and it is my job to protect her. I will find her and bring her back.
Charles
Will looked at Glenaire. "Catherine bolted. I have to go after her."
"Charles is out there in the dark, Will. You have to find him," Sylvia cried, clutching his lapels.
The marquess pulled Sylvia away from Will. "Go," he said. "I'll look after Her Grace." Glenaire grimaced while the duchess wept into his pristine neckcloth. "Shall we ring for tea, Your Grace?" he asked.
Catherine hugged Charles to herself. They stood in Songbird's barn, where Catherine helped rub down Lady Guinevere.
"You were brave to ride here, Charles."
"I had to. I had to. I didn't care if I fell. You ran away, and I had to tell you I'm glad you're my sister. Glad. Please give it time, Catherine. I promise to be a good brother. Maybe it won't be so bad to be my sister. Truly." In the damp night, his voice sounded thick and desperate.
"You thought I left because I didn't want to be your sister?"
"My father wasn't a good man. He did bad things. I don't blame you for being sorry he's your real papa." He swiped at his cheeks.
"Oh, Charles, that part doesn't matter. Your uncle Arthur is my real papa in every way that matters, and he's a very good man. I have a good life here at Songbird Cottage."
"You don't have to live at Eversham Hall! I'd rather live at Songbird, too. Do you think Lord Arthur would let me?"
Catherine smiled into the gloom. "Your mama needs you, I think. You've begun to make her smile again. You can visit, though, whenever you want, and I can visit the hall, too." When Will isn't there. I won't be able to bear it when he is.
"But, Cath," he said, and her smile deepened at his use of the boys' affectionate nickname, "Uncle Will likes you too. I know he does. I heard him tell Lord Arthur he wants you all to visit Chadbourn Park. I thought maybe… that is… don't people's families visit when people are betrothed?"
Oh, dear. She sighed deeply, and when she spoke, she meant the words for her own heart, as much as for her newfound brother. "Listen to me, Charles. Your Uncle Will is an earl."
"You are the daughter of a duke," he said stubbornly.
"You're old enough to understand that children born outside marriage are not well received in society. I'm called 'baseborn.'"
The boy started to speak, but she silenced him with a finger to his mouth. "Besides that, I have no dowry, no property, and no consequence to bring to marriage. Your Uncle Will needs a woman who brings prestige to Chadbourn Park. I can't." The bigger problem stuck in her throat. He needs a woman who knows how to be a countess. I don't.
Charles started, as if a sudden thought struck him. "Is that why you ran?"
"I didn't run. I just missed my home."
"You ran," he accused. "Uncle Will says only cowards run."
The sound of a carriage rattling down the lane interrupted them, followed by the sound of several people scrambling out.
"The house is dark. Randy, you check it anyway," a familiar voice called. "Freddy, look in the garden. I'll check the barn."
