“They do, Amelia.” He’d walked from the mews holding each daughter’s hand and stopped in front of the house.
Agatha was quiet. She’d been so since he’d returned from his failed search for Cecilia in the streets of London. Finding people without the help of the Department of War and the Colonies proved more difficult. London had thousands of places to hide.
“Let’s go in, girls. Perhaps Cook can make us something hot.”
They walked into the house and he was surprised to see Gladstone milling about.
“There you are, Gantry.” He stuck out his hand, but Felton kept his to the side.
“Girls, go on in and find your aunt.”
Gladstone rolled his top hat in his palms. He was well styled today, buff breeches, bottle-green waistcoat and brown jacket.
“What brings you here today?”
“I wanted to see Jane. I think my attentions have grown upon her. She might be the one for me. And I wanted to know if it were true, that you separated from Lady Gantry.”
No mention of being cut by Cecilia. Felton pulled off his gloves. “Nonsense. She’s out of the country right now. As soon as she’s back I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
When the man’s eyes darted, Felton knew that his speech was not what his cousin wanted. Something more had happened the day of the recital, but Felton wouldn’t tip his hand. Gladstone had information.
“Cousin, when was the last time you traveled? Your aunt |didn’t say.”
“It was—”
“Felton, you’re back.” Jane sauntered down the stairs with her chin elevated as if her pale green gown had a regal train. “Mr. Gladstone, I was unable to find the book you lent me.”
“Keep it and think of me.” He put on his hat, waved broadly, and then almost ran out of the house.
Another time. Once Felton located Cecilia, he’d know what happened that day. Then he’d right all the wrongs. And from the feeling in his gut, he knew there to be very little that was his wife’s fault.
“Are you brooding, Felton, still?” The sweet voice belonging to his sister Jane startled him. Then he remembered Jane was the only one unaffected by Cecilia’s departure.
She came near with a bounce in her step. Was she possibly thinking their womanizing cousin would propose? And that Felton or Tramel would approve?
“Jane, I’m going away again.”
“To Warwick? Christmastime is so love—”
“No. I’m in no mood to hear the duke’s gloats.”
Watson appeared out of nowhere—well, almost nowhere. A spy’s assistant was always around no matter what. “Sir, I will get your bag packed. Both portmanteaus?”
“No, just one.” Felton didn’t need his guns. He’d accompany the Duke of Repington on a hunt across England. The man chased his ward and needed to search every shadowy place from here to Scotland. It was the perfect excuse to look for Cecilia who might venture to places about England Felton had promised to take her. She was on adventure and having access to Repington’s resources might hasten locating her.
Jane clasped Felton’s arm like they would go for a walk. “Why go anywhere at all?”
“I should join my wife in her present adventure.”
She dragged him into the parlor with the big windows and perfect light for an artist. “May I say sorry again?”
“You may, for all the good it does.”
A frown consumed her lips. She clasped her elbows. “What if we all went to Warwick for the new year? It will be a merry journey.”
“Merry? It’s almost a two-week journey with the children and the number of stops, not to mention the maids and nurses we’d have to tow along.”
“We could be leaner. I can handle the duties of managing the girls.” She grinned like she’d won a prize. Maybe there was one for perseverance. Hadn’t she always wanted to run everyone’s household, Tramel’s and Felton’s?
