Page 112 of Marry in Scarlet
George felt a warm glow inside. To be appreciated for knowing how to hide in hedgerows and haystacks—it was the last thing she would have expected from the duke.
A short time later the tutor, Jephcott, bustled in, looking flustered and spouting apologies and excuses for his absence when they arrived. A fastidiously dressed man in his late middle years, he became visibly distressed when Hart began to question him, clearly fearing to be blamed for the boy’s disappearance.
“Iassureyou, your grace, that I took thegreatestof care of the boy. Phillip is a delicate little fellow, prone to catch every illness that’s going around, but he means well, and works hard and does his best to please. I cannotimaginewhat dreadful thing caused him to disappear. Ipromiseyou, he was only out of my sight for abarefew minutes.”
“What time did you first notice he was gone?” Hart asked.
Jephcott frowned in pained recollection. “I can’t be sure. It was late afternoon—before teatime certainly. He’d finished his Latin declensions, and I gave him an hour or two free time to play. But I was watching him from the terrace.”
Dozing on the terrace, more like, George thought.
“Where did you think he went?”
“To the lake—he likes to dangle a fishing line in. He never catches anything, of course.”
“Could he have fallen in?”
“It was thefirstthing I thought of, but we checked and there wasnosign that he’d been there. His fishing rods were undisturbed and the small rowing boat he occasionally takes out was moored as usual—of course he’s not allowed to fish or take the boat out alone, and he’s averyresponsible and obedient boy.”
George was feeling more and more sorry for the child. To be so responsible and obedient at not quite seven years old. It wasn’t natural. She wasn’t sure what Latin declensions were, but they sounded horrid. And with no proper garden, no horse and no dog, what was there for a small boy to do?
Hart dismissed the tutor and sent for drinks to be brought in, brandy for himself and a sherry for George.
“I’ll investigate that lake first thing in the morning.” Hart’s face was very grim. “That fellow is not the rightkind of tutor for a small boy. I should have interviewed him myself for the position. His references were excellent, but now I’ve met him, I can see he’s too old and fussy for a young boy.”
George was a little shocked that he’d appointed the tutor sight unseen, but she knew now that Hart’s first priority had been the reorganization of and restoration of the estate Phillip was to inherit, which at the time was a much bigger problem—and who was to say that was wrong? But Hart was clearly blaming himself for whatever had happened to Phillip.
“It’s not your fault,” she began.
Hart cut her off with a sharp gesture. “The boy ismyresponsibility.”
Dinner was served then, and a very quiet meal it was too. They went up to bed. George wore one of the lovely nightdresses from Miss Chance, but to her surprise, Hart barely seemed to notice. He pulled on a nightshirt and climbed into bed without a word.
She slipped in beside him. “We have to think positively,” she said softly.
He grunted and rolled over, his back to her. Obviously there was to be no lovemaking tonight. He was too worried about Phillip.
“Good night, Hart.” She lay down and closed her eyes, then turned and slipped her arms around him.
He rolled over to face her, his eyes somber in the shadows. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help thinking about that little boy.”
“I know. Me too.” She smoothed his forehead. “Just get some sleep and let us hope that things look better in the morning.”
He kissed her, and curved himself around her, holding her in his arms until at long last they both fell asleep.
***
The next morning the news was even worse. Mrs. Harris brought it in with the breakfast. She stood there,waiting in the doorway, looking worried until Hart beckoned her in. “What is it, Mrs. Harris?”
She bobbed an anxious curtsey. “Begging your pardon, your graces, but one of the daily girls says she heard that another little boy has gone missing, a local lad, Danny Glover.”
“What? Two small boys missing?”
Mrs. Harris grimaced. “It’s just gossip at this stage, your grace, but I thought you’d want to know.”
Hart nodded. He surely did.
Jephcott followed her into the breakfast room. “But it’s not the same thing, your grace, it can’t be. This Danny Glover is just a poor boy, rough and ignorant—there’s no question of a ransom for such as he.” He shook his head, perplexed. “Not that a ransom note has come for Phillip yet, but I’m sure it will. It must.”
