Page 55 of Finding Hope
After he had directed the grooms to be ready for a search of the grounds, he returned to the house, frustrated, to see if she had been found there. Instead, he found her sisters distressed and fretting.
“No one has seen her since this morning, Max,” Diana said. “We are still searching the other wing, but there is no reason to believe she would have ventured there.”
“I watched her round the corner from the study,” he said, thinking and walking towards where he had last seen her at the same time. “Could someone have been lying in wait?”
“There is a door to the garden down the steps. Do you think she would have gone outside?” Diana asked.
“Despite knowing someone has been threatening her? Why would she do such a thing?” The thought made him incredulous.
“Hope can be stubborn. She might have gone somewhere she felt safe,” Patience said.
“She barely knows the estate,” Diana said in a panic.
“We rode over a great deal of it during the hunt,” Patience reasoned. “Perhaps she went for a walk and is sheltering somewhere until the rain stops.”
Max turned to Westwood, about to call for all available men to begin a search, when Patience had an idea.
“Has anyone looked in the bath house? If I wanted to rest, that is where I would go. Perhaps she fell asleep and was caught unawares by the storm.”
“It is worth a try. I am going to look for her. If she is not there, we will gather everyone to search.”
“I will go with you,” Westwood said.
“No, there is no need to send you out unless necessary. It is not far. I will return soon.”
A loud crack of thunder shook the house just as he readied a lantern to go out, and he and Westwood exchanged ominous glances as he set forth to find Hope.
Max could not shake the fear that whoever wished her ill was responsible for this. He had to find her before it was too late.
CHAPTER 14
As Hope realized no one would come out in the storm looking for her, she tried not to become panic-stricken. Yet her mind could not but wonder if the person who had locked her in was lying in wait to further harm her. It could have been an accident, she tried to tell herself, but it certainly felt deliberate considering the circumstances.
Venus looked mockingly down at her as she debated what to do. “I do not suppose you know an alternative way out, do you?” she asked the large statue. “If ever I needed an act of God, it is now.” All she received was a blank stare from the marble face. “You, oh fair goddess, are a fraud.”
Instead of standing there talking to carved stone, she decided to see if there was another door. One more try on the door she had entered through confirmed it was still locked.
The palpable air, heavy with the scent of citrus and moist earth would usually have been welcome, but the damp air only made her soaked clothing chill her more. The arrangement of the bath house was such that she could not simply feel her way along the walls. The cool, uneven stone beneath her fingertips contrasted starkly with the occasional brush against a leaf as she made her way around to the opposite wall, where she prayedfor a window that would open. Sporadic lightning cast ghostly silhouettes of the trees, creating an eerie tapestry against the walls but not enough light for her to find a window with a latch.
Now shivering, Hope shrank to the floor and crawled her way to the alcove where she’d been so happy just two days before. It was their secret place, where she could feel slightly more safe within its confines and a little closer to Rotham. She needed to stop thinking that way about him, but for the moment, she needed anything to keep her mind from who was tormenting her.
“It is just a storm. Soon, Faith will realize you are gone and come looking for you,” she reasoned with herself.
Thunder continued to rattle through the valley, shaking the portals of the marble and glass edifice. Occasional streaks and flashes of lightning would provide respite from the darkness, but mostly she was alone with her morbid thoughts. It was impossible to keep them away. There would be no peace for her as long as someone was determined on this course of destroying—or doing away with—her.
A peal of thunder reverberated through her very bones as rain lashed against the windows, its rhythm a relentless, percussive accompaniment to the storm’s fury outside. How long could a storm last?
Curling into a tight ball, she closed her eyes to block out the imagined faces in the shadows. Who would want to do this to her? Hope could not give credibility to someone like Lady Matilda. Smaller tricks, yes, but there was too much cunning involved. She’d seen all of the young ladies playing pall mall as she’d left for her walk. Perhaps they could have made their excuses, but with suspicions heightened, it would have been quite obvious. Something told Hope that the plot against her was more sophisticated, and that it had to be someone with anintimate knowledge of Davenmere. Who else could have shot at them and then made their escape?
The thought was too awful to allow her mind to continue down that path. The storm would be over soon, and someone would realize she was missing by dinnertime, surely. She closed her eyes and drifted into a light dream of when Rotham had still been attainable.
“Hope? Hope?” A voice called to her distant state of awareness.
She stirred and sat up; warm hands gathered her into a pair of firm arms and a cape encircled her for warmth.
“Hope, my love. I am here. You are chilled!”
“Rotham? Thank God,” she said through chattering teeth, which was as much from nerves as the cold.
