Caroline nodded once. “I see. And you want to stay here, with the viscountess.”
She lowered her gaze to her feet. “Milady assures me I will.”
“Babette, you do know where you’ll be living when you return to London with Lord and Lady Randall? The same house as before.”
An unexpected grin tugged at Babette’s mouth. “I do, ma’am.” She glanced up at Caroline. “It was never about the house, ma’am. It’s Lady Randall. She needs me. To look after her.”
Caroline felt her insides lighten, seeing the evidence of Annabelle’s positive impact on Babette. She sounded almost like herself, again.
Although Babette’s ‘normal’ did not equate with the usual definition. No, Babette had always been special.
“So, it wasn’t the possibility of going with me, or returning to Hanover Square that bothered you so much as the idea of leaving Lady Randall?” Caroline asked.
Babette nodded.
She grinned. “Yes, I can see that she does need you. Well, again, if you’re here to assist me, I haven’t much to pack. I arrived with very few items of clothing, most of which I intendto leave here.” It seemed the gowns she had left here had been absconded with.
“No, ma’am. It’s not that at all. It’s milady. I’m worried something’s happened to her.”
Alarm flashed through her. “What do you mean?”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“I’m not certain. I happened to glimpse her outside some two hours ago. As she was heading toward the stables, I assumed she meant to take a ride. I asked Chip, though, who’d cleaned them earlier, and he said he saw neither hide nor hair of her.”
She could have come back inside. She could be back in her chambers, attempting to pen a note to her parents in private.
“I’ve searched the house, ma’am, top to bottom. She’s not here.”
Caroline crossed to her window and looked out. The sun was fast sinking in the western sky. It wasn’t yet dusk, but soon would be. “She didn’t mention anything to you about taking a stroll?”
“No, ma’am. Not a word.”
It did seem odd for her to go on a long walk, alone, without telling anyone—especially after Sterling’s admonition only yesterday.
“I have…ma’am, I have a very bad feeling.”
Caroline shot her a look. “Which way was she heading when you saw her?” She started toward her door, then out.
“Toward the kilns?”
She strode down the hall toward the stairwell, Babette on her heels. “Lady Randall undoubtedly went for a walk and lost track of time. I shall go look for her.”
“By yourself, milady? Shouldn’t one of us join you?”
“Easier if I go on my own, on horseback. It’s the fastest way to find her and bring her back.” Gripping the handrail, she trotteddown the spiral staircase. “I must retrieve something from my brother’s office. Kindly have Chip saddle a horse for me and bring it to the forecourt.”
***
At least thirty minutes had passed since they entered the cave-like building.
It was nearing dusk and the waning sun’s light no longer reflected into the space from the kiln pot chambers. The only illumination came from two oil lamps that stank of cheap tallow and provided a weak golden glow.
Vane paced, hands linked behind him, his gaze never far from her.
She hugged her arms around herself. The temperature had dropped, leaving Annabelle chilled to the bone. Listening to the intermittent sounds of scraping and hammering from within one of the small chambers, she contemplated her next move.
