What A Gentleman Wants (32 page)

Molly nodded, eyes glowing, and Hannah hugged her close. Turning toward the doorway, she paused. Lily still stood where she had been, head bowed and hands clenched. Hannah stepped closer and lowered her voice.

“Don’t worry, Lily; all is well.” On impulse, she added, “You may have the rest of the day free, to do as you like.”

The maid raised her red-rimmed eyes. “Yes, madam,” she whispered. “Thank you, madam.”

Hannah smiled encouragingly at her, then hurried out the door to ward off the creeping discomfort. Heavens, it would take her a long time not to be self-conscious around Lily! But it wouldn’t be fair to sack the girl for innocently walking into the room, so Hannah supposed she would just have to get over it.

“Molly,” Hannah began, after they had eaten their picnic, fed the crumbs to the ducks, and petted four passing dogs. “Would you like to stay here in London?”

“Oh, yes, Mama.” Molly didn’t look up from where she was tracking a trail of ants through the grass. “I like it here.”

“Well, I believe we shall,” Hannah said. “Indefinitely.”

Molly looked up. “What’s indebitately?”

Hannah smiled. “Indefinitely means forever.”

“Hurray!” said Molly with a sunny smile. “And now that David is back, will he be my papa again?”

Hannah’s mouth opened, then closed without a word. Why hadn’t she expected that question? “No,” she said carefully. “Not David. He was never going to be your new papa. But what do you think about his brother, the duke? Do you like him?”

“Oh, I like Extera,” said Molly at once. “Will he let me dig in the garden, if we stay?”

Hannah cleared her throat. “Well, perhaps. We may ask him.”

“All right.” Molly had found a stick and started poking at the ants. “Look, Mama!” she squealed. “I can make them go around it!”

Hannah stared at her daughter, bemused. So much for the questions she’d feared. And the thought of Molly asking Marcus if she could dig in his garden was just too funny. She dutifully leaned over to see what Molly was inflicting on the hapless ants of Hyde Park.

The rest of the day sped by. Marcus returned home with a satisfied look in his eyes, and murmured to her that he had something to share with her over dinner— in their suite. Hannah blushed, agreed, and went to say good night early to Molly. Her daughter had been tired out by the day in the park, and could stand an early night. Humming under her breath, Hannah hurried up the stairs to the nursery.

The room was empty. All the toys were neatly put away, the table cleared of dinner. Hannah went across the room to the little bedroom where Molly slept. She had resisted moving Molly up here at first, but her little girl loved it, with the big sunny room filled with toys, her own little bed rather than the trundle under Hannah’s bed at the vicarage, and of course a staircase of her very own, opening into the duchess’s suite. Hannah made a mental note to make sure that door was closed, so she and Marcus would have a moment’s warning in case Molly came down in the night.

She opened Molly’s door. This room was also empty. Hannah frowned, looking around. Had Celia taken Molly out? Then she saw the paper on the pillow.

Her steps weighted with dread, Hannah crossed the room. There was something wrong about that scrap of paper, lying where her child should be. She lifted the paper as if it might bite her, and read. Her breath stopped in her throat at the words it held.

Blindly she groped her way to the door, unable to look away from those terrible words. Her heart had stopped beating and was now wedged in her throat— she couldn’t breathe—she felt faint.

The door opened before her hand and Marcus stepped into the breach. “There you are,” he said with a hint of smile that quickly disappeared. “What’s the matter?”

Mute, Hannah held out her trembling hand. Shooting her a concerned look, he took the paper and read it

“My baby,” she choked out, before he seized her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. Hannah clutched at his arms as a sob of terror burst from her throat

“Shh,” Marcus said, pressing her face into his shoulder as he scanned the room over her head. The nursery was clean and tidy, with the last sunlight of the afternoon illuminating the shelves of books and dolls. Through the open doorway, he could see a little bed, neady made. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet…

His eyes dropped to the coarse scrap of paper in his hand.
We have the brat
, said the fairly undistinguished handwriting. Why would someone take Molly?

Hannah shuddered in his arms again, and he forced the thought away. Why didn’t matter—it was who, and how to get her back, that mattered. And he couldn’t deal with that until he got Hannah settled.

Keeping her tight in his arm, he guided her down the stairs to her room. He rang for the housekeeper, instructing her to send for a doctor and to send a maid for tea. Hannah, blank-faced with shock, let him tuck her into a chair with a blanket around her legs. He knelt beside her, his stomach seized with fear at the horrible look in her eyes.

“Hannah,” he said softly, taking her hand. “I promise I will find her, darling.”

She looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, and Marcus felt his own throat tighten. He clasped her hand between his, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “As God is my witness, you shall have her back soon,” he vowed in a silent whisper.

At that moment, Rosalind rushed dirough the door. “What is wrong? Marcus, has something happened?”

He laid Hannah’s hand back on her knee and got to his feet. “Yes. Stay with her, Rosalind.” Ignoring his stepmother’s starded exclamations, he went into his suite and closed the door. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he took out the note and read it again.

He summoned the butler, but Harper knew nothing. Marcus dispatched several servants to search the grounds, but he didn’t expect them to find much. The ticking of the clock seemed loud and strident; he couldn’t sit around and wait for the servants to search. The grounds of Exeter House were too expansive. He couldn’t waste the time, and he had a good idea who was behind it anyway. Moments later, he stepped into his brother’s room. David, cushioned on a heap of pillows, looked up from a book, eyebrows raised in question.

Tell me where to find Rourke and his rabble,“ said Marcus.

Hannah was barely aware of Rosalind’s presence. Her mind seemed to be stuck revolving around two words: Molly’s missing, Molly’s missing, Molly’s missing…

Rosalind left after a while, saying something about a tisane. Hannah hardly noticed. Lily came in with a pot of tea, but Hannah ignored it Tea wasn’t going to help anything.

“Your Grace?” Hannah forced her eyes up at Lily’s hesitant voice. Her maid was holding out Missy, Molly’s battered doll.

Tears pooled in her eyes. She took the doll, smooth-ing the worn cotton dress she’d made for Missy out of scraps from the vicarage curtains. Molly would be terrified without Missy. The tears ran down her face. Who had stolen her baby? And why?

“Please, Your Grace, don’t weep,” pleaded Lily, on her knees at Hannah’s feet. She clutched Hannah’s arm. “She’s fine, I’m sure of it. You mustn’t make yourself ill.” Clutching Missy to her breast, Hannah wept, barely listening.

But this was indulgent. For once in her life her father’s words rang thing her mind helpfully. Why cry about it, girl, she could almost hear him say; do something. Yes, Hannah thought hazily, she must do something. Molly needed her. She couldn’t sit here and weep; she must try to find her daughter. But how? Her mind felt thick and muddled as she prodded it to work.

“Please, Your Grace,” said Lily again, growing more distraught as she made no response. “Please! Listen to me. Your daughter is well. She is unharmed. I know it!”

Something about that broke through Hannah’s daze. “What? How do you know?”

“I know it, I do,” declared the maid passionately. “You’ll have her returned to you soon, I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know?” repeated Hannah, less stunned and more confused. “Why would you say that, Lily?”

The girl opened her mouth, then hesitated. She took a closer look at Hannah’s expression and gave a tiny shake of her head. “I—I am sure she will be found soon. You must believe that…”

“Why, Lily?” She lurched to her feet, setting Lily off balance. The maid tumbled over backward, then scrambled awkwardly to her knees. “Why are you so sure?”

“I… I… Ooh!” Hannah grabbed hold of Lily’s arm and gave her a terrific shake. “Please, madam!” cried the girl.

“Where is my daughter?” Hannah demanded with another shake. “What do you know, Lily? Why are you so sure she’ll be returned soon and is unharmed? You were watching her, Lily. Where is my baby?”

Tears sprang up in Lily’s eyes as Hannah’s voice rose. She twisted under Hannah’s hand, still gripping her shoulder. “I can’t say, Your Grace! I can’t tell you!”

Hannah seized the closest thing at hand on the dressing table, the engraved silver hairbrush, and raised it over Lily’s head in threat. Only a very small part of her was really aware of what she was doing; the other part was ready to beat Lily until she got her daughter back. If Lily had been responsible—if she had put Molly in harm’s way… “Where is she, Lily? Did you have anything to do with her going missing?”‘

Lily let out a terrified squeak. “No! I mean, I only kept her safe! I would never let anyone harm Miss Molly—”

“Where is my child?” shrieked Hannah. Lily also shrieked, and ducked a little.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, cowering. I’m sorry. She’s not hurt, I promise!“

Hannah dragged her to her feet. “Take me to her,
now
.” She kept the hairbrush in her hand. Clutching her apron to her face, Lily led the way, up the servants’ stair into a part of the house Hannah had never seen. At the end of a long corridor, Lily opened the door of a small room. Several irons sat on the hearth, and a large sewing basket sat near a straight-backed chair next to a narrow window. As Hannah watched in amazement, the maid pressed hard against a carved rose on a wall panel, and lowered the panel to a horizontal position as it came out of the wall. There was a cavity behind it, dark but warm. Hannah could feel the warmth. She stepped closer and peered in.

“Molly?” she called. Silence. She turned a dangerous glare on Lily. The maid moistened her lips and leaned forward, into the space.

“Miss Molly!” she called softly. “The game is over. You’ve won.”

There was a clunk, and a scramble, and then Molly’s blond head popped out, her face wreathed in smiles. “I won, Mama!” she crowed.

Hannah dropped the hairbrush and reached for Molly, pulling her out of the wall and into her arms. “You did, darling, you won.” Her arms shook as she held her daughter close. When her voice was steady enough to speak aloud, she smoothed back Molly’s tangled curls and searched her face. Molly was already in her nightclothes; how long had she been here?

“How did you think to hide here? I never would have found you.”

Molly beamed, not at all hurt or scared. Thank heavens for that. “Lily showed me the best hiding place, Mama. Even Celia doesn’t know about this one! Only now it’s no good, because you found me and now you’ll know where to look when I hide.”

“Oh, Molly.” Words failed her again, and Hannah hugged her, too relieved to scold her. Lily, on the other hand…

Setting Molly down, but holding her hand tightly, Hannah turned to the maid, who now stood against the wall, her fists clenched in her apron. She looked terrified and belligerent and remorseful, all at once. “Come with us, Lily,” she said as calmly as she could. Lily’s chin dropped, but she nodded, and trailed qui-edy after them back to the family quarters.

At Celia’s door, Hannah knocked, and a moment later Celia’s face appeared. She had started getting ready for bed. “Yes?”

“Celia, may Molly sleep in your room tonight?”

Celia’s eyes widened as Molly gave a little cry of joy. “Of course,” she said, her eyes flickering past Hannah to Lily. “Come in, Molly.” Molly bounded through the door, leaping into the middle of Celia’s bed. Celia leaned forward. “Is something wrong, Hannah?”

Hannah gave her a tight smile. “I shall tell you in the morning. But if you would keep Molly with you, it would be a great help.”

A moment of disappointment crossed Celia’s face, but she masked it well. “Of course. You will tell me, won’t you? Marcus always promises to tell me in the morning, and by then he’s come up with a reason why he should not tell me after all.”

On impulse Hannah gave her a quick hug. “I do promise. But keep Molly with you at all times. And ring for help if there is anything troubling or alarming, anything at all.”

Celia nodded, solemn-faced. Hannah bid Molly good night, which her daughter returned with a cheery wave, and turned to Lily as Celia closed, and locked, her door.

“Now, you come with me.”

“Where, madam?” Lily’s voice quavered.

“To see the duke.” Hannah ignored the girl’s frightened gasp and marched off to the duke’s study.

“Oh, madam, please,” begged Lily as Hannah rapped on Marcus’s door. “He’ll send me to prison. I brought her back to you, I would never have let anyone hurt her…”

“Lily, you hid my child from me and left a note saying she had been kidnapped.” Hannah knocked again. “I don’t trust myself to decide what to do with you.”

Lily swallowed, her eyes huge.

“Is everything all right, Hannah?” At Rosalind’s concerned voice behind her, Lily screamed and jumped as if she’d been shot. Hannah whirled around and grabbed the maid by the arm, to keep her from falling or running away. Rosalind’s eyebrows shot up.

“Where is Marcus?” Hannah asked before Rosalind could say anything. “I must see him at once.”

“I saw him at David’s door not half an hour past. Why, Hannah, what is the matter? Are you feeling better?”

Hannah gave a distracted nod. Still holding Lily, she turned around and went toward David’s room, Rosalind staring after them in amazement

When she peered into the room, David was alone, dozing propped up by several pillows. Someone, probably Telman, had already shaved him and even trimmed his hair, which was still damp. Already he looked much better.