Page 130 of Wild Lily
The man extended an arm toward the settee. “I think you’d better sit.”
“I have no time.”
Hanniford strode to the table where a few bottles of cognac stood. He unstoppered one and poured two glasses. When he returned to stand before Julian he said, “Why don’t you know where she is?”
He took a hefty drink. “More than three weeks ago, she told me she wanted to rest.”
“Rest?”
“She—we had suffered a few revelations and afterward, she wanted to think, to be alone.”
“That’s different fromrest, my man.”
“She told me she was going to Willowreach. She went in my carriage, took a chamber maid, and according to my staff, arrived later that night.”
Killian downed his own brandy. “How long did she stay?”
“Two days.”
“And then?”
Julian drained his glass. He licked his lower lip. “She had the groom take her into Ashford where he says she caught the public coach to Canterbury. I’ve looked for her there. Spoken with friends of mine. Asked at the local hotel, but there is no word. No one who has seen her. So I need to know, if she has come to you. I must see her.”
“I don’t like the idea of her traveling alone.”
Julian smarted. “Neither do I, but now you must tell me where she is. She’d been away long enough and I need her back.”
“Do you?”
Julian did not like the murderous look in Killian’s eyes. He took the blame, yes. But he could change. Make amends. “I would expect she told you what happened. With the broadsheets and my mother and the maid.”
Killlian shook his head. “I have no knowledge of any of this.”
“Perhaps that’s best all forgotten.” Julian put aside his empty glass.
“You argued?”
“No. I failed her.”
“I see. Is it important that I know how?”
Julian shook his head. “Only that I do, and that I correct the error.”
“Or the lack.”
“Yes. The lack.”Lack of declaring how very vital she is to my very life.“I was a fool to let her go.”
“I doubt you had a choice.”
Julian was confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You couldn’t deter her.” Killian picked up Julian’s glass and went to pour them both another. When he returned, he pushed the brandy into his hand. “When her mother died, she ran away. She was all of eight years old. A charming minx, full of fire and charm. She could not bear it that her mother had gone from her. They had a special relationship. They made bread together, wrote stories together. Rode out, my wife on her horse and Lily on her pony. When I told Pierce and Lily that their mother was gone, she shed not a tear, but ran to her room. That night, she snuck out of the house. We were beside ourselves with worry she’d been kidnapped, taken by one of the sailors who roamed the waterfront, chained upon a ship in the harbor. But I found her a day later in my warehouse on the Baltimore docks. She’d taken coins from her own little purse and bought herself oranges and a loaf of bread. She’d taken her old blanket from her bed, too. So she knew where she was going, what she was doing and why.”
If that was meant to make Julian feel better, it didn’t. Panic snaked through him. “If she’s not here with you, where do you think she is?”
“I doubt she’s with Pierce and Ada in Biarritz. They would have told me.”
“Where is Marianne? In Biarritz? Here? She would know.”
