Barbara Metzger (34 page)

When the search proved futile, the family gathered again in the morning room. Blame flew like arrows in a Robin Hood tale.

Claymore was ready to retire. He was too old for his position, he claimed. His eyesight was too poor if he could miss the boys leaving the house.

“The old fool wouldn’t miss half of what went on if he stopped looking at the bottom of the glass,” Rockford muttered while Alissa reassured the butler that he was not responsible, that he was, in fact, invaluable.

“I could have been more helpful, I suppose,” Lady Eleanor admitted. “I never thought they would like to go to Bond Street with me.”

Silent in the air was the notion that she could have gone elsewhere for once, somewhere young boys might enjoy, but Rockford’s scowl said enough.

“I did not notice you offering to take them riding with you this morning,” Lady Eleanor answered her brother’s frown with scorn of her own. She saw no reason why she should bear the entire brunt of the guilt by neglect.

Lady Winchwood clutched her glass of restorative in both shaking hands. “I shouldn’t have taken their last pennies. Then they might have kept playing cards with me, and not been so restless.”

“You stole their allowance money?” Rockford poured himself a glass of wine, and one for Alissa. Dash it, how far could the boys get with no money? Kendall was too intelligent and thoughtful a lad to go off without fares or money for food. Which meant they might have been abducted after all. He set the glass down, deciding that he needed all of his senses unimpaired, and said, “Aunt Reggie, they are small boys. You should find yourself a new husband if you want to cheat someone.”

“This is no time for sarcasm, my boy,” she answered, taking up his discarded glass. It was the perfect time, it seemed, for getting castaway.

“Don’t blame Aunt Reggie,” Aminta wailed. “I should have been watching them. That’s all you’ve ever asked of me, Lissie, and you have given me so much.”

Mr. Canover handed Miss Bourke his handkerchief. “No, it was my job to supervise the children.” He stood and addressed Lord Rockford. “I shall hand in my resignation in the morning, my lord. I will understand if you do not feel you can supply references, for I have failed in my duties.”

He had, and he was lucky Rockford was not a vindictive man or Canover would be out on the street before he could tender that resignation. The earl was about to nod his acceptance of the tutor’s departure when Aminta wailed louder.

“You cannot let him leave, Lissie. Don’t let Rockford make Lucius go. He is the only man I will ever love.”

Claymore dropped the plate of biscuits he was handing around. Alissa was speechless, while Lady Winchwood set down her wineglass—Rockford’s wineglass—long enough to clap her hands.

“You love the tutor?”
Rockford
drew out his quizzing glass to inspect his sons’ teacher, for perhaps the first time. He could not remember noticing the fellow much before, except the time Canover had patently admired Alissa’s bosom, or was that the randy younger brother? Now he saw a slight young man with a weak chin, not quite compensated for by heavy eyeglasses and hair that was longer than fashion dictated. His coat was of quality fabric, but frayed at the cuffs, and his cravat was neatly if inelegantly tied. His complexion was pasty, as if he did not see the light of day too often—or he had something to feel guilty about. Rockford did not think that something was merely dereliction of his duties, not the way sweet, innocent Amy was blushing. Good grief, the tutor could end up being his brother-in-law!

Alissa had the same thought, and was not well pleased. Lucius Canover was an unassuming, intelligent, pleasant man, but she had wanted something more for her sister than a poor scholar, and Amy had not yet begun to test the waters of the matrimonial sea. “We shall speak of that later, and of Mr. Canover’s resignation. Now we have to consider the children. Mr. Canover, do you think they might have gone off with your brother?”

“Why would they do such a thing? And why would Lawrence allow it? He was going to stay with some friends instead of the dormitory.” He gave a guilty look toward Lord Rockford, for letting him think Lawrence was going back to his studies, which were so close to the end of the term his attendance was useless. “The boys would have been decidedly
de trop
.”

Rockford could well imagine what the young Romeo had in mind, which was why he had written to the headmaster of his school, to be on the watch for young Canover.

The tutor was going on, lest anyone think his brother might have resorted to holding the boys for ransom, rather than return to his studies. “Furthermore, I placed the hamper of food from the kitchen in the coach myself. I certainly would have noticed the lads then.” He shook his head. “No one was inside but my brother.”

“I was not doubting your sibling, Mr. Canover. It was just a thought,” Alissa said. Now she had no others.

Lady Eleanor did. She jumped up and said, “I know where they could have gone. I’d be willing to wager they went to Henning House to see the duke.”

“How much would you bet?” Aunt Reggie wanted to know.

But Rockford asked, “Why would you think that?”

Alissa added, “You know he refused to acknowledge them.”

Eleanor was not quite sure why the boys might have gone there, but it seemed a reasonable assumption to her anyway. Hysmith was such a calm, capable fellow, she thought he could help. His sons were grown, so he had ample knowledge of boyish pranks. And it was a good excuse to call on him.

“Come, Aunt Reggie,” she said, dragging her aunt out of the room before anyone could stop her. “We will go ask if his grace knows anything about the boys.”

Alissa was thinking. “I did tell them that I wished they could meet their father’s brother. Perhaps they did go there.”

Rockford doubted it. They had been gone too long. “Hysmith would have sent them home with a flea in their ear. He would not have kept them, not without sending word to us. No one could be that cruel.”

“But where else could they be?”

Rockford did not know. He was ready to fly off into the night, as soon as he knew which direction to take. His horse was saddled, his pistol was packed, but he could do nothing until one of his messengers came back saying the children had been sighted somewhere. He had never known such frustration.

Alissa was weeping, besides, blaming herself for ignoring her sons’ needs. Her muffled cries tore at Rockford’s heart until he wanted to rip it out and hand it to her. The blasted thing was doing him no good, anyway. Neither would it have brought her sons back, though. Damn, it was all his fault.

Hugo thought it was his, for being such a bother and a weakling and a bad brother to the Hennings, requiring so much of their mother’s time. They couldn’t go places because of him, had not seen half the sights, waiting for him to recover. He could understand their boredom and their upset, but he had no idea where they would have gone.

“Unless they went back to Rock Hill,” he suggested. “They liked it there, knowing all the villagers and the tenants and the children,” he added with a wistful tone that did not go unheard by his father.

“We will return there soon. You’ll get to make friends in the neighborhood too.” Rockford sent another rider to Rock Hill, although he doubted the boys would have set out for there without funds. He would have someone check the toll roads heading in that direction, anyway, in case a drayman or a delivery driver picked them up. In fact, Rockford decided, he would go himself, rather than spend the rest of the night sitting at home doing nothing but worrying.

“Here,” Alissa said, handing him her locket, opened to show facing miniature portraits of her sons. “You can show this to people, to ask if they have seen Kendall or Willy.”

“Excellent.” And better that it was not a picture of her dead husband that she wore constantly next to her heart. “I’ll stop off at Bow Street first to show the picture, but I’ll leave the rest of my route with Jake, so you can find me if they come home before I do, or if Eleanor learns anything at the duke’s. Otherwise, I will return
as
soon
as
I have news. Try not to worry, my dear. I know that is easier said than done, but we will have them back soon.”

Alissa did not want him to go. How could she get through the night without his comfort, his confidence? She knew she had to stay behind, but her sons were out in the dark, in an unfamiliar city. And her sister was crying in the tutor’s arms. “Aminta, please go to check the attics again. Mr. Canover, you and Claymore can search the cellars. Perhaps they found an old priest’s hole or something and are trapped behind the walls. They have to be here.” Or else she would lose her mind. “I’ll wait here until Lady Eleanor returns, making more sketches of the boys to show around tomorrow.” Her voice caught on a sob. “In case they are not found before.”

She had time for a lot of portraits before her sister-in-law came home. In fact, she was so impatient she began to wonder if the Duke of Hysmith was swallowing up her family, person by person. If Lady Eleanor did not return soon, Alissa decided, she would send Mr. Canover. If he disappeared… Well, a sister could hope.

*

“Deuce take it, woman, do you never have a care for your reputation?” The duke hauled Eleanor into his book room before any of the servants saw her. His disapproving butler had let her in, of course, but the man valued his position too highly to carry tales. “Coming alone to an unmarried man’s home at night is tantamount to declaring your lack of morals, if not your lack of sense.”

Eleanor was looking around. She particularly admired the painting hanging over Hysmith’s desk of him on a dark horse. Rockford’s masterpieces were all well and good, but here was art a person could truly enjoy. The horse looked good too.

When his grace finished his ranting, she made little of his concerns. “My recently acquired good name is safe,” she said, “because Aunt Reggie is outside in the coach. She had a shade too much restorative, I assume, although what she hoped to restore by downing half a decanter of Rockford’s best brandy I cannot imagine. That is not to the point. Your fusty old rules do not apply in the face of such an emergency. Your nephews have gone missing.”

“And so have your wits. My brother’s sons are in Yorkshire, precisely where they belong. I had a letter yesterday.”

“My wits gone begging? You must have lost your understanding when your hair fell out. Do not be obtuse. You know I mean your brother William’s children. They are not at home. Have you seen them?”

The duke reached a hand up to make sure the long strands of hair still covered his bald spot before he said, “I believe I saw your stepnephews in the park once with a pack of dogs. Mongrels.”

“The puppies might be. The Henning boys are not. They are fine children, which you could see for yourself if you were not so pigheaded.”

“Pigheaded, is it? What do you call yourself, rushing off on some fool’s mission that can see you ostracized from polite society again? A messenger could have sufficed.”

“I call myself a concerned relative, despite having no blood relation to the Henning children, unlike some others I could mention, who will not get off their fat—”

“Very well. You have come to ask. Lady Rockford’s sons are not here. They have never been here, and, with luck, they shall never be here in the future. Now may I show you to the door?”

Eleanor was not ready to leave. “Why do you dislike them so much, without knowing them?”

“I do not dislike them. I simply
choose
not to accept anything to do with my unfortunate brother, who broke our mother’s heart, or the woman who trapped him into the marriage that caused such a rift in my family. I should think you would feel the same, since the wench snared your brother, too.”

“Wench? Snared? You make it sound as though my brother—or yours—is a rabbit, caught unawares. I cannot speak for Henning, of course, but Rockford is top over tails for Alissa, although I doubt if he is entirely aware of the depth of his current state. Why, anyone seeing them together could recognize a love match, and a well-deserved one, I swear. Lady Rockford is everything I would wish for in a wife for my brother, unlike those ninnies he married before. She cares for people, Duke, she truly cares. How many highborn ladies with perfect reputations can you say the same about?”

“Not many,” he was forced to admit. Most fashionable females, and a lot of men, cared for nothing but their own pleasure.

“Dashed few, I’d wager. Why, Alissa has worn herself out tending to Rockford’s sick sons. Who knows what would have become of Hugo without her devotion. And Billy… Well, someone would have strangled the little blighter by now if not for her. And she has worked wonders on my brother. She might even make him human one of these days. Your brother might have married beneath him—I never knew William Henning, so cannot say—but my brother the earl wed far above him, and I thank God for that.”

“Very well, you have convinced me. Lady Rockford is a paragon. Where have you looked?”

“For the boys?”

“Of course for the boys. That’s what you came for, is it not, to enlist my aid in finding the little devils?”

“I never thought… That is, thank you. And I am sure Rockford will thank you, and Alissa will also, of course.”

The duke touched his jaw, where Rockford had left such a bruise. “I am not doing this for Rockford, nor for his lady.”