She wasn’t making a point of her knowledge or angling for his notice. She was merely answering a question that interested her with the information she had, in the same matter-of-fact way she’d answered every question all evening. It was, he realized, exactly who she was. The corridor. The turret. Now this. Just herself, saying whatever was true.
He wasn't sure what he'd assumed she was. Something pleasant and warm and uncomplicated, he supposed, without having thought about her consciously. A girl who loved animals and laughed easily and had her sisters' charm without their particular weight of purpose.
He hadn't been wrong about that, not exactly. He had simply been incomplete in his estimate.
The candlelight caught the red in her light hair as she turned back to Hythe, and he noticed, almost against his will, that her eyes were very blue. She was lovely. More than lovely, if he was honest.
"The north boundary," he said, finding his voice. "There’s a section above the field where the land has always been uneven. I’ve never thought to look at it after a rain."
"It may be worth looking into," Miss Corinna suggested shrugging slightly once more." It might not be the same problem we had at all. But if it is, you’ll know the moment you see it."
"Brilliant," he said.
"Pemberton may still be worth consulting," Hythe put in. "But perhaps after you’ve walked the north boundary."
"Perhaps after that," James agreed.
Daniel, who had been watching all of this from across the table with avid interest, picked up his wine and said nothing, which was, in James’ experience, considerably more pointed than anything he might have said aloud.
James returned his attention to the pheasant, but he found he was thinking about the north boundary and certain clever girl with very blue eyes from Bermuda.
Chapter 4
Even before arriving in England, Cori had never been one to sleep past dawn. Back home, the harbor was alive with activity before the sun lit up the horizon, with the sounds of ships and dock workers already filling the sea air. The hum of commerce had been the backdrop of all her mornings for as long as she could remember. Although Acklan was quieter on all fronts, old habits did die hard.
She dressed early without the assistance of her maid, eager to explore more of the castle on her own before the others arose. She had quite decided, almost instantly, that the charm of Acklan was just as lovely at dawn as it was at dusk. After ambling around for better part of an hour, Cori finally stumbled upon the portrait gallery.
The gallery ran the length of the east wing and was filled with various Westhams from the last four centuries. Cori moved along the gallery slowly, not with any particular purpose, just looking at those who had come before them.
She found him about two thirds of the way down.
Well, not Linthorpe himself, but some long ago ancestor who looked enough like the duke to have been his twin. Cori paused and stared up at the young man, adorned in the fashion of a previous century, fair-haired and grey-eyed, with the same set to his jaw and that same particular stillness she recognized in his descendant.
The fellow’s nose was slightly different and his mouth was a bit softer, but his eyes…they completely matched Linthorpe’s. A shiver raced through her.
Cori was still standing in front of the portrait when the door at the far end of the gallery opened and the housekeeper, Mrs. Fenwick, bustled in, looking more than harried.
"Oh, Miss Corinna!” the housekeeper breathed out upon spotting Cori. “Have you seen Lady Hannah this morning?" She twisted her hands slightly at her sides as though she didn’t know what to do with them.
“Lady Hannah?” Cori echoed.
"We cannot find her anywhere,” Mrs. Fenwick confided, the words rushing from her mouth in mild panic.
Oh, good heavens! Cori's stomach tightened. "When was the last time anyone saw her?”
"Her governess checked on her at ten o'clock last night, and she was asleep in her bed. But when Miss Roseberry went to wake her at seven, her bed was empty." Apparently satisfied that Hannah was not in the portrait gallery, Mrs. Fenwick started toward the far exit, and Cori followed after her. "The staff have been searching for half an hour. His Grace is in the breakfast room."
Oh, poor Linthorpe. Cori increased her step to keep up with the housekeeper. “Where have you looked so far?"
"Every room on the nursery floor, the kitchens, the servants' stairs, the garden." She took a breath. "Mr. Turlow even checked the stable block first thing."
The stables. Cori noted it and frowned. That would have been the first place she would have looked. "His Grace is in the breakfast room? "
The housekeeper nodded as she maintained her pace around a corner. “When I last saw him.”
James had been awake since Mrs. Fenwick knocked on his door at seven o'clock. Since that moment, he’d spent every single moment doing what he always did when something was wrong, discovering the shape of the problem and then putting people to every part of it.
Turlow to the stables. Two housemaids to the nursery floor. His valet, Pritchard, to the kitchen garden and then the orchard. Daniel had been dispatched to the east wing. Caitrin Beckett stationed in the entrance hall in case Hannah wandered back on her own, which she might. The child was being entirely capable of appearing from some unexpected direction and with no sense that anything unusual had occurred in her absence.
