Page 34 of Miss Harvey's Horribly Lovable Fiancé
Time to go.
’Twas then one more item came to mind. She snapped her fingers at what else she required for this midnight journey.
She snatched up her valise and tiptoed down the hall to the servants’ back stairs. Down to Papa’s gun room.
* * *
“Milord. Milord!”
Giles opened one eye to his valet, Lymon, who jostled his shoulder. Early morning sun limned the walls of his bedroom which meant the man had parted the drapes. That was an act he always forbade before he had finished his coffee.
“Wake up, sir.” The furrows in Lymon’s handsome young brow indicated the world had recently suffered an earthquake of shattering proportions.
“Done.” Giles pushed up on one elbow and swiped a hand down his face. “What’s wrong?”
His coachman, Jarvis, hovered like a frail ghost near the valet. Behind them both stood Giles’s tiger Henry who fidgeted like a sad little monkey.
“Sir! You must get up.”
“Tell me.”
“Weeellll, sir…”
Henry rolled his eyes.
Jarvis poked Lymon in the ribs. “God’s nightshirt! Say it.”
“She’s gone.”
“Who…?”
But before the word was out of his mouth—coffee or no—Giles knew precisely who.
Why run, Esme?
He squeezed his eyes shut. Hard. Then flung off his covers and swung his naked body around, feet to the carpet.
“What? Exactlywhathappened?” He sought presence of mind as he glanced at each of his three servants in turn. “Any one of you may answer now rather than later.”
“Miss Harvey—”
Giles did not wait for more. He grabbed his gold silk banyan from the foot of the bed and yanked it on as he strode through his sitting room. “Does Courtland know?”
“He does.”
“When did she leave?”
No one answered.
He spun.
They halted—one, two, three—chins tucked to their necks. “When?”
“Ce matin, monsieur.” Henry said, sheepish to reveal it. The boy was never reticent about anything.
“Whenpreciselythis morning, Henry?”
The boy shook his head.
