Noah immediately rose from his seat beside Izzy, stepping instinctively to James’s side, not crowding him, just close enough to help him if needed.
“We, Caroline and I…” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the words catching. “We had a stupid argument last night. After everyone went to bed.”
He didn’t look at any of us, only stared at the floor like the tiles might offer an explanation he couldn’t find.
“I thought she just needed space,” he said. “I thought giving her a night to cool off would…” His voice thinned, cracked. “God. What was I thinking?”
Lucas chose that very moment to attempt helpfulness.
“Okay!” he announced loudly, with a brightness no one appreciated. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe she’s doing… sunrise yoga? A juice cleanse? I read somewhere brides do that to expel toxins.”
Emma shot him a look so venomous I was surprised he didn’t burst into flames.
Izzy remained seated, watching with sharp, assessing eyes.
Then Margaret arrived.
She swept through the doorway in a cloud of expensive perfume and maternal purpose, her silk robe flaring behind her like she’d caught a favourable breeze, and Richard was right behind her.
She stopped dead when she saw the room, Emma pale and trembling, Lucas pacing in frantic circles, Sophie biting her nails.
Margaret’s eyes widened. “Good heavens, what’s happened now?”
No one answered quickly enough.
She gasped, clutching the back of a chair for balance she absolutely did not require. “Has something gone wrong? Tell me at once.”
She looked around, and then her attention snapped to Emma. “Is Caroline upset? Did someone distress her? I swear, if one more thing goes wrong this week…”
Lady Victoria Beaumont didn’t bother looking up from her tea.
“Margaret, do calm down. You’re frightening the staff.”
Margaret ignored her completely, scanning the room with growing alarm.
“Where is Caroline? Someone tell me what on earth is going on.”
Emma dragged in a slow breath. Her eyes filled, hands trembling like she was trying to hold herself together with sheer will.
“Emma?” Margaret pressed, stepping closer. “Where is she?”
Emma blinked rapidly, as if trying to force the words into existence.
“Mrs Harrington… she’s… well she’s not here.”
Margaret frowned, impatient. “Well obviously she’s not here, Emma. Is she still getting ready? Having a moment? What is it?”
Emma shook her head, her voice trembling. “She never came back to her room last night. Her bed wasn’t slept in, her phone’sgone, and I’ve tried calling her over and over, but it’s switched off.”
Margaret stared at her. “Emma… what are you saying?”
“I can’t find her.”
Richard, who had been standing behind her, set down his coffee cup with a deliberate clink. Margaret stumbled back a step, one hand flying to her chest. Richard caught her elbow before she lost her balance.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
“My baby…” Margaret whispered.
