My Brown-Eyed Earl (12 page)

“It is smaller and not as fancy, true. But it has much to recommend it. Especially the company.” Meg covered the chip in the rim of her cup with her finger, sipped her tea, and sighed from sheer pleasure. “Now tell me, what has been happening here?”

“Here? Oh nothing of any interest,” Beth said breezily, but she exchanged a look with Julie. “It's been dreadfully dull. I've started a new sewing project, and—”

“No.” Meg set down her cup with a
clunk
. “Surely you don't intend to regale me with tales of your
sewing
projects. Please tell me something more significant than hem-letting has transpired in the past week.” The skin on the back of her neck prickled. “Why do I feel as though you're hiding something?”

Julie squirmed. “We should tell her, Beth.”

Beth rolled her eyes at her younger sister. “I suppose that now we
must
.” Exasperated, she turned to Meg. “It's Uncle Alistair. He has a preposterous notion.”

Meg relaxed a bit and rolled her shoulders. Uncle Alistair's notions were hardly new. “What is it?”

“It's an absurd idea,” Beth said, frowning. “But he's quite determined.”

“Let me guess,” said Meg. “He wants to buy an outrageously expensive telescope … or adopt some exotic animal—a hedgehog perhaps?”

“No…”

“He's decided to host a ball,” Julie blurted.

“
What
? That's impossible.”

Beth bit her lip. “Of course it is. Only, you know how he is when he resolves to do something.”

“He wants to do it for
us
,” said Julie. “He thinks that if we host the social event of the season, we shall soon be collecting suitors like buttons. That's the irony—instead of improving our reputation, we'd be laughingstocks. More than we already are,” she added glumly.

Meg slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I can't imagine anyone would deign to come. At least there won't be more than a handful of witnesses to our humiliation.”

“Are you sure about that?” Julie asked. “I rather think guests would line up outside our door to see the Wilting Wallflowers achieve the very pinnacle of disgrace.”

“Do not fret. We will simply dissuade Uncle Alistair with a clear recitation of facts. We haven't the money, space, or staff to accommodate any gathering approximating a ball. I'll speak to him.”

“I've already tried,” Beth said. “He's adamant. Oh dear, here he comes.”

“Can that be my darling Meg?” Uncle Alistair shuffled into the parlor, his tufts of white hair standing on end and his wizened face split into a grin. “Here she is, returned to us at long last.”

“It's barely been a week,” she said gently, “but it's wonderful to see you, Uncle.” She embraced him, then pulled up his favorite armchair. “You're looking very well.”

“As fit as a person can be at my age.” He sank onto the pitifully thin chair cushion with a cheerful sigh. “And perfectly culpable of hosting a ball in honor of my three lovely nieces.”

Meg cast him a wary smile. “Beth and Julie just informed me of your intentions. I must say, while it's wonderfully generous of you to offer, we wouldn't dream of putting you to the trouble or expense.”

“But I want to do it!” Uncle Alistair said, clearly offended. “Of all people, I thought you'd understand.”

“You've already done so much for us. More than we'll ever be able to repay.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” he scoffed. “We're family. You don't repay family. You simply love them and gracefully accept the gifts they offer.”

Meg's eyes stung at the sweet sentiment, but she blinked away her tears. “What a lovely thing to say. You know we adore you and always will. But unfortunately, a ball takes a considerable amount of planning and effort. It also takes … well, it takes more money than we have.”

He gripped the arms of his chair. “Then I'll sell some of my artifacts or, or … books!”

“Uncle!” cried Beth. “We couldn't allow you to do that.”

“It's not just the lack of funds,” Meg continued. “We don't have a ballroom or the servants to help us prepare.” They didn't even have anything appropriate to
wear
, for heaven's sake.

“Why is it that young people look for all the reasons that an idea will fail instead of all the ways to ensure it succeeds?” In spite of the lines on his face, he looked like a toddler denied his favorite sweet, and it nearly broke Meg's heart.

She patted the back of his hand, willing him to understand. “We're just trying to be practical.”
And keep you out of debtor's prison.

He snorted. “Practicality is too often used as an excuse for complacence. You must have faith in me, my dears. What I lack in means and standing, I make up for in ingenuity and optimism. Our ball shall be the talk of the ton—a spectacle beyond repair.”

Oh no. It
would
be a spectacle. And Meg had to stop it—or, at the very least, delay it.

“Your enthusiasm is inspiring, Uncle. However, I'm afraid that it will be several weeks at least before I'm able to attend a ball. You see, my governess duties require my full attention at the moment. Do you suppose we could postpone the festivities for a month or two?”

“A month?” He scratched the bald spot on top of his head.

“Or two?”

“Three weeks,” he said firmly. “No longer. In fact, I'm off to make a list of eligible young gentlemen to invite.” He hoisted himself from his armchair and headed toward the door like a man on a mission for the king.

Julie and Beth shot Meg a look of utter desperation—as though they were all in the back of a runaway wagon headed for a cliff. Meg had to do something, for her own sake as well as theirs.

“Will you allow me to help with the planning?” she blurted. Uncle Alistair turned to face her, his expression quizzical. “I've never hosted a ball,” she continued, “and I've always wanted to.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Of course you may help me, my dear. Beth, Julie, and Charlotte are welcome to offer their suggestions as well. As long as you understand that I intend to entertain on a grand fail. You are by far the loveliest young ladies in London—nay, the Empire—and you deserve to be honored with the ball to end all balls.”

For a few moments after he left the parlor, the women sat in stunned silence.

Julie dropped her head into her hands. “This is sure to be a disaster.”

“Of monumental proportions,” said Beth.

“At least we've stalled him for a bit. We'll try to reason with him over the coming weeks.” But Meg suspected it was futile.

She felt as though she was now fighting battles on two fronts—one against a rakish earl in Mayfair and another against an eccentric uncle at home.

And she wasn't faring particularly well in either.

*   *   *

“What do you mean, Diana
's gone
?”

Mrs. Lundy fingered the tie on her lace collar. “She's not in the nursery or the kitchen or anywhere else I might expect to find her.”

“Then I suggest you look in the places you
don't
expect to find her.” Will strode past the housekeeper and out of his study. “Where is Miss Lacey?”

“She had the afternoon off.” Mrs. Lundy followed in his wake.

Will consulted his pocket watch. “It's past seven. Shouldn't she have returned by now?”

“Why, I expect her shortly. After the week that young lady's had, she's entitled to enjoy a few peaceful hours with her family.”

Will whirled on her. “It's not as though Miss Lacey has been laboring in the mines. Do
not
make me out to be some sort of beast.”

Mrs. Lundy's face went white and she blinked rapidly, clearly on the verge of tears. “Your lordship, I would never suggest such a thing.”

Will paused in the foyer, drew a deep breath, and reined in his temper. “I know you wouldn't. Forgive me. Where is Harry? It's his duty to escort the twins whenever they leave the house.”

“I believe he's cleaning and trimming the lamps, my lord. He didn't know Miss Diana was planning an outing.”

“Summon him and Gibson to the drawing room. Then search the house again.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Lundy bobbed her capped head and hurried off.

Will paced the length of the foyer, his boot heels thudding ominously on the marble floor. Where in the devil would a six-year-old girl run off to? Perhaps she'd missed her mother—and home. But he didn't think so.

Maybe she'd missed Meg and had gone looking for her.

That
he could believe. The damned truth was … he missed her, too.

 

Chapter
TWELVE

 

Meg hurried up the brick path to Castleton House. Leaving her sisters and Charlotte had been more difficult than she'd thought. At home, she knew who she was. The eldest of the Lacey sisters. The practical, resourceful one who'd kept their little family together. The one who protected Uncle Alistair as much as possible and struggled to make ends meet. And of the three Wilting Wallflowers, she was … well, the most wilted.

But at least at home, she'd been surrounded by people who loved and understood her. At Castleton House, she wasn't at all sure who she was. Governess, yes. But who was she to the earl? Employee, friend … or something altogether different?

More important, who did she
wish
to be to him?

She paused on the front step, swung the gleaming brass knocker, and waited for Gibson to admit her. Except that when the door swung open a mere second later, it was not the portly butler who faced her on the other side of the threshold.

It was Will.

“Meg.” His deep voice betrayed a strange mix of relief and desperation. Looking over his shoulder, he called out, “It's Miss Lacey.”

“Thank the Lord above.” Mrs. Lundy rushed toward Meg and pulled her inside.

Her stomach sank. “What's wrong?”

“It's Diana,” said the earl. “We can't find her.”

“Did you check under her bed? In the armoire? How about the kitchen? Or in the garden?”

“Yes to all of those.” Mrs. Lundy's hand fluttered about her throat. “I've looked in every nook of every room in the house. She's nowhere to be found.”

“I've got Harry searching the entire block,” Will added. “Where else could she have gone?”

Meg shook her head helplessly. “I don't know. What did Valerie have to say?”

Will shrugged. “I haven't spoken with her.”

“Why not?”

“I assumed Mrs. Lundy had already done so.” He turned expectantly toward the housekeeper.

“Of course I asked if she knew where her sister was—forceful-like, so she knew I wasn't about to tolerate any nonsense. She claims that they laid down for a nap and that when she awoke, Diana was gone. More than that, I could not persuade her to say. She's a quiet wee one.”

Oh dear. Mrs. Lundy may have meant well, but she'd probably scared Valerie half out of her wits. “She says little,” Meg agreed, “but you can be sure it is the truth. I'll go speak with her.”

“I'm coming too,” the earl said.

Meg tossed her satchel on the side table and headed for the staircase. “Suit yourself—but do try not to frighten her.”

“I shall endeavor to contain my ogre tendencies.” He followed as she dashed up the stairs.

She shot him a too sweet smile. “Excellent, my lord.”

Short of breath upon reaching the nursery, Meg opened the door to find Valerie sitting by a window that overlooked the street and the square beyond. Outside, dusk had begun to fall. Meg knelt beside her charge, eager to see the view from her perspective. Will remained behind, uncharacteristically quiet for now.

Valerie looked up at her, freckled face forlorn, and unfurled her fist to reveal the locket. “I kept it safe. Did you have a nice time with your family?”

“Indeed. But now I'm worried about Diana.”

“I am too,” the girl admitted.

Meg nodded past the window. “Do you think she's out there?”

“I don't know. Perhaps.” Her thin voice quavered.

Slipping an arm around Valerie's shoulders, Meg said, “I'll find her. You may count on it.”

“Will she be in trouble?”

“You needn't worry that she'll be punished harshly.” Behind them, Will snorted; Meg ignored him and tried to reassure the girl. “We just want to bring her back here, where she's safe.”

“I want that too.”

Meg pulled up a chair beside Valerie. “What happened after I left today?”

She swallowed. “We took a nap. I did, at least.”

“Did you and Diana talk before you fell asleep?”

She frowned as though trying to remember. “A little. She was still cross about not knowing her sums. I told her not to worry and to remember that you had a plan to help her.”

“And what did she say to that?”

“She said she wished she didn't have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Wait for
what
?” Will demanded, startling both Valerie and Meg. “What, precisely, does this plan of yours entail?”

“Nothing terribly sinister, my lord,” Meg said dryly. “We'd simply discussed gathering a few pebbles to use as counting stones for tomorrow's lesson.”

Will stepped closer, leaning over the pair of them as he gazed out the window. “Was Diana so eager that she might have tried to gather them on her own?”

“Maybe,” Valerie said. “She's not very patient.”

“Are her boots gone?” the earl asked.

Meg went to the armoire and checked. “Yes.” She turned to Will. “Collecting pebbles wouldn't take more than a half hour. She's been gone for at least three.” Heart pounding, she tried not to contemplate all the horrid things that could happen to a six-year old girl wandering the streets of London on her own.