Page 48 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“Were you able to send word to the places near the butcher shop?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I took up all the messages you wrote last night and delivered every one of ‘em myself this morning.”

“Before I even awoke?” Frances asked, feeling incredulous but grateful.

“Yes, Your Grace. It’s when the shopkeepers are at their work but their customers have not yet come in. I thought it best to bring your concerns before they became too busy to think about it.”

“That’s wonderful thinking, Sara. Thank you!”

“If I’d been earlier, I might have gotten one or two of ‘em to talk to me. But they were all too busy with their tasks. I asked them to send a boy back here to the house and we’d repay them. I hope that was all right.”

“That’s very good thinking.” Frances paused, thoughts of Juliet plaguing her. She couldn’t help but fear that they were going about this all wrong, that they were assuming she’d simply escaped rather than something terrible had befallen her.

Frances shook off the horrifying thoughts and forced herself to smile. As Sara helped her dress and style her hair, she made herself think of only positive things, intent on helping Juliet as best she could.

No sooner had they reached the front gate than Emma came running up, one hand holding the back of her bonnet to prevent it from flying off. She looked excited rather than the usual fretful frown she’d worn the last time Frances had seen her.

“Emma? What’s going on?” Frances asked, amused but concerned at the same time.

“It’s this!” she replied, thrusting a page into Frances’ hand. “Look down here.”

Frances read the page, its meaning becoming clearer as she clutched it tightly in both fists. “Where did you get this?”

“It was on the ground outside the butcher shop! I’d gone with our housekeeper to fetch an order so that I could stop to purchase some ribbons along the way. Father insists that someone go out with me if I’m going to the shops, you know. In any event, we went to the very same butcher where Juliet’s true love works, and they’ve posted a notice for an assistant!”

“But what does that mean?” Sara asked, obviously unsure of why this was welcomed news.

“It must mean that Thomas is truly gone, and his parents do not expect that he’ll be returning soon. If they’ve gone to the trouble of having a printer create this announcement, they must be looking for a man to work permanently.”

“Or at the very least an apprentice!” Emma said, still so excited that her cheeks were flushed. “These notices were hung in different places in front of the shop. This one must have fallen.”

“Emma, this is brilliant. It’s very smart of you to think of it,” Frances said, feeling the first rays of hope since learning of her cousin’s disappearance. “I still think I should speak to the butcher himself, and now I’ll have proof that Thomas must be gone.”

“Should we let the duke know?” Emma asked, nodding in the direction of the house.

“I don’t know that it would matter to him,” Frances replied, wondering what Emma was referring to.

“Isn’t he helping you? I thought surely he would speak to his friends or business associates, or at the very least talk to some of the gentlemen at his club.”

“I’m not sure he goes to a club,” Frances answered as they began walking in the direction of the markets.

“All gentlemen join a club, silly. It’s all Father talks about when he goes out, which earl he ran into or which viscount remembered his name. You’d think they sat around ruling the empire from the way he goes on about it.”

Frances made a note to ask Anthony whether he was a member of just such an establishment. From what little she knew of himshe couldn’t imagine it suiting him. He seemed to prefer his solitude, and he was certainly not the sort of person to boast about himself around others. She assumed he would find it a waste of time to go somewhere only to sit and read, especially as he could do that quite well from the sanctuary of his home.

Frances decided they should see to the smaller errands first before going to the butcher’s. With any luck, he would have plenty to say to them and very few customers to interrupt. This was one such instance when that luck was on her side.

“There it is,” Frances said softly when they turned a corner and approached the shop. All three of them stopped and watched the shop reverently as if waiting for some sort of sign to proceed.

“Should we go up? What will we even say?” Emma asked as she clung to Frances’ arm.

“We can simply tell the truth. We’re very concerned about Juliet, and we’re hoping that Thomas’ parents can help us find her.”

“Right.”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go,” Frances urged them.

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