Eloise hesitated, then gave her supposition voice. “You have had contact with them before?”
His right hand tightened on her waist, but he said nothing. Eloise shut her eyes but refused to pry any further—nor react with any broader gesture. “Will this contact not turn your reputation in an unwarranted and dangerous direction?”
He continued to stare up and away. Finally, he faced her again. “Yes. But if we can locate Timothy, it will not matter. Restitution can be made later.”
Eloise cupped his face in both hands. “Then perhaps we should, indeed, get a great deal of sleep.” She kissed him, a quick press of her lips to his, but Robert did not release her. Instead, he held her closer, his mouth on hers, his tongue drawing a sweet line along her lower lip, which made her shiver. She arched against him as she opened her mouth, and they settled into a long, exploratory kiss. Eloise adored the scent, the taste of him, and she relished each brush, each nip of his teeth. As the kiss ended, she buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply, wanting to carry that aroma with her through the next hours.
“I do not want to leave you,” she whispered.
Robert remained silent a few moments. When he spoke, his words held a tense hoarseness. “Eloise, once we find Timothy—”
Eloise pushed away from him and placed a finger over his lips. “Shh. I know. I know all too well. But I do not want to think about that in this moment. Let me cherish this while I can.”
After a short hesitation, he nodded, but Eloise knew the time had come. She would not bed this man tonight, as much as she wished to. They had reached a point where their mutual goal had become more consuming.As it should be, she thought, clambering to her feet and searching the stacks on the desk for her cap.
A half hour later, Eloise eased the servant’s door closed and headed up the back stairs. When she reached the third floor, she noticed a light coming from under her father’s door. Changing quickly into her night rail and dressing gown, Eloise knocked softly on the door. After a moment, a surprisingly alert voice spoke.
“Enter.”
Eloise opened the door, pushing it wide. Her father, also dressed for bed, with his banyan tied firmly around his waist, looked up from the escritoire positioned near the fireplace. His eyes widened when he saw his daughter and he stood.
“Eloise! I thought you were asleep.”
She ran to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “I am so glad you are back safely.”
He gave her a quick hug, then cleared his throat. “Here, now, girl. I was only gone two days.”
Eloise gave her father a kiss on the cheek and stepped back, resuming proper posture. “It feels much longer. Did you find out anything that might help?”
Percival scowled but motioned for her to sit in an armchair near the fireplace. He resumed his seat at the escritoire. “Perhaps. I have sent a message for Constable Lewis to call in the morning. I hope the information I have provides some missing pieces for his investigation. I know that’s feeble hope, but—”
“You never know what might help.”
“Indeed.”
“Please tell me what you discovered.”
He leaned back in the chair. “I cannot. Eloise, there are some things about a man’s life which a young woman, no matter how bold, should not be made privy to.”
They watched each other a moment, Eloise’s thoughts warring in her head. If she told him what she had been up to, he would be horrified—and disappointed. Of all the things she had survived, Eloise had never wanted to feel the sting of her father’s disapproval.
But they had to find Timothy, and she had no confidence that Constable Lewis would be able to do that without the information she and her father had discovered.
“Papa, I know about the White Stallion.”
Percival Surrey sat as still as Eloise had ever observed her father sit, and Percival Surrey could remain unmoving for hours. Even his peers knew him for a placid nature not easily ruffled. Within their family, he made for the perfect counterbalance to her mother. Now, however, with not even his eyes moving as he focused on her face, his complacence slightly unnerved Eloise. Finally, after several excruciating moments, he said one word. “How?”
She swallowed hard. “I have been pursuing some information that came to me as a result of those letters I wrote.”
“What information?”
“About possible avenues for Timothy’s disappearance.”
“And you did not trust Constable Lewis to ferret out this information?”
“Not considering the source. No.”
“And that source would be?”
