Page 4 of His Lordship's True Lady
He’d be devastated if the child wasn’t soon found. Lily was more than a little worried, and she hadn’t even met the girl.
His lordship pushed open the door and gestured for Lily to precede him.
No wonder he preferred this chamber. Books rose to a height of two stories on shelves lining two sides of the room. The windows on the outside wall would look over the garden, and the furnishings were of the well-padded, sturdy variety that invited reading in unusual positions for long periods.
The wall sconces had been turned down, throwing soft shadows across thick carpets, and the hearth blazed with a merry warmth.
A pleasure dome, compared to small talk and aspic.
“We simply can’t find her,” Lord Grampion announced. “Daisy is very clever at choosing hiding places, and I despair of locating her when she doesn’t want to be found.”
“Where have you looked?” Lily asked as a curtain twitched in the absence of any breeze.
“We’re searching the house from top to bottom, the maids are starting in the cellars, the footmen in the attics. Nobody will sleep a wink until Daisy is once again tucked safely in her bed.”
Lily pointed to the curtain, and Grampion nodded.
“She must matter to you very much, my lord, for you to leave your guests and set your entire staff to searching.”
“Of course she matters to me. She’s the dearest child, and I’m responsible for her happiness and well-being.”
His lordship was clearly not playacting. In the space of a week, Daisy had captured his heart, or at least his sense of duty. Many daughters commanded less loyalty from their blood relatives, and nieces were fortunate to have a roof over their heads.
As Uncle Walter so kindly reminded Lily at every opportunity.
“Do you think she might be lost?” Lily asked as his lordship silently stalked across the room. “It’s so very dark out tonight. Not a sliver of a moon in the sky.”
“Daisy is too clever to be lost,” Grampion said, pushing back the curtain. “But she’s not too clever to be found.”
A small blond child sat hunched on a window seat. She peered up at the earl, saying nothing. Most parents would have launched into a vociferous scold. Grampion instead sat beside the child and tucked her braid over her shoulder.
“I couldn’t sleep,” the girl said, ducking her head. “I miss home.”
“So do I,” the earl replied. “Are your feet cold?”
Bare toes peeked out from beneath the hem of a linen nightgown. “Yes.”
The earl scooped her up and settled her in his lap. “You gave me a fright, Daisy. Another fright, and you promised not to do this again.”
She sat stiffly in his arms, like a cat who had pressing business to be about in the pantry. “Will you beat me?”
“Never.”
He should probably not have admitted that, and Lily should not be witnessing a moment both awkward and intimate. She took a step back, and the child’s gaze swung to her.
“Who’s she?”
Grampion rose with the girl in his arms. “Miss Lily Ferguson, may I make known to you Miss Amy Marguerite Evers, my ward. Daisy, this is Miss Lily.”
He’d chosen informal address, which made sense. “Hello, Daisy. The earl was beside himself with anxiety for you.”
“Worried,” Grampion said. “I was worried, and now I’m taking you up to bed, young lady.”
“May I have a story, please?”
Grampion should refuse this request, because naughty behavior should be punished rather than rewarded.
“His lordship has many guests who will all remark his absence,” Lily said, holding the door open. “I know a few good stories, though, and will stay with you until you fall asleep.”
