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“You make sure you ‘n’ the vicar are there on Monday; I’ll make sure yer bride is.”

Elizabeth listened as they walked out of the room and the panel closed behind them. Then she curled up in the dark and sobbed.

***

“Begging your pardon, my lord.” Hancock walked in carrying Jonas’s dark-blue coat. “Mrs. Beecham’s at the door, wanting to speak to you.”

“Mrs. Beecham?” Jonas frowned. A summons from Mrs. Beecham never omened well. Hancock held out his coat. Jonas slid his arms into the sleeves, shrugged it up over his shoulders, and walked to the door.

“Viscount Langton, I’m so happy you’re returned.” The housekeeper was wringing her hands and looked near to tears.

“Good heavens, Mrs. Beecham, whatever is the matter?”

“It’s Miss Doyle, my lord.”

Jonas’s concerned spiked. “What about Miss Doyle?”

“She’s missing, my lord. Has been since early this afternoon.”

“What do you mean ‘missing’?” he pressed.

“She went for a walk while Lady Langton took a rest,” Mrs. Beecham said. “But she never came back. Lady Langton waited for her in the drawing room for well over two hours before sending a maid to her bedchamber to see if she was there. No sign of her there or in the rose garden or at the stables.” She paused and took an uneven breath. “Lady Langton is in a bit of a state over it, my lord. It might be best if you spoke with her.”

Jonas was already out the door. “Where is my mother now?”

“In the drawing room, my lord.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Beecham.” Jonas hurried down the stairs and marched across the hall. The door to the drawing room was open, so he walked straight in.

“Jonas.” The moment his mother saw him, she was on her feet. “Thank goodness you are come. Something terrible has happened. I simply know it.”

“Calm yourself, Mother.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Sit down, and tell me what you know.”

Lady Langton resumed her seat but did not relax. She sat upright, one hand clenched tightly about the handle of her walking stick. “She has been gone too long. It’s not like her to be late for anything.”

The worry in his mother’s eyes was not commensurate with the irritation a mistress would have for a disobedient servant or the vague concern someone would have for an acquaintance. Rosalind had been correct. Again. Over the last few days, Lady Langton had come to truly care about Miss Doyle.

A knock sounded on the drawing room door. Jonas looked up. James stood in the doorway and in his hand he held a slightly battered straw bonnet. Jonas rose to his feet, a ball of dread nestling in the pit of his stomach.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, my lord, my lady.” James raised the bonnet slightly. “I found this out by the pond and thought it best that I bring it to you right away.”

“The pond!” Lady Langton gasped. “Did Miss Doyle fall in?”

“I don’t believe so, my lady.” James shifted nervously.

He glanced worriedly at the viscountess, and Jonas had a sudden flashback to that terrible day when his mother had sat in this very drawing room awaiting word on his father’s fate.

“It’s all right, James,” Jonas said. “Lady Langton is far stronger than anyone gives her credit for. You may speak what’s on your mind. She would wish to hear as much as I do.”

His mother gave him a grateful nod, and James cleared his throat.

“After Betty came by the stables to ask about Miss Doyle, I remembered that I’d seen her walking toward the pond earlier in the day, so I went out that way to take a look. I saw her bonnet right away, and when I went to retrieve it, I noticed the grass was a bit smashed up.”

Jonas raised his eyebrow. “Smashed up?”

“Yes, my lord. Like there’d been a lot more than just one young lady there.” He twisted the bonnet in his hands again. “Even though we’ve had this long spell of good weather, the ground near the pond’s always wetter than anywhere else. There were footprints in the mud, my lord. Men’s footprints. And a little farther off, behind the stand of willows, I found cart tracks.”

The cart on the road coming from Langton Manor. In a flash, Jonas knew who had been in that vehicle. And the fact that she’d left her bonnet behind told him that she’d not gone willingly.