Victoria bit down on her bottom lip. She was normally up for most things, but there was a definite sense of hesitancy about her. “I think you need to talk to Gideon. Have an honest conversation about you and Flynn. If you don’t want to mention that the two of you have shared a romance, then perhaps just let him know that you and the viscount had a disagreement. You are old friends, so it makes sense that you would wish to make amends.”
“But I don’t—”
Augusta’s reply was cut short by the unexpected arrival of their mother into the breakfast room. She and Victoria exchanged a questioning glance as the Duchess of Mowbray took a seat and beckoned a footman over, requesting fresh tea and two boiled eggs.
What is going on with her and Papa?
The duke and duchess had always shared breakfast in their private suite. Even on the mornings when they were at war with one another, they declared a ceasefire over food. Their mother being at the family breakfast table was an unsettling sight.
The duchess greeted her daughters with a cheerful grin. “Good morning, Augusta. Good morning, Victoria. Where is Coco? Don’t tell me she is still abed at this hour.”
As far as Augusta and Victoria were concerned, it went without saying that Lady Coco Kembal wasn’t in her room. If she stayed true to form, she was still out with her wild friends roughing it in a crowded tavern somewhere in the mean streets of east London. And she had been there all night. Not that they were going to tell any of that to their mother.
Coco might be the youngest of the Kembal offspring, not long out of the schoolroom, but she was also the most headstrong. And out of control. Her sisters were forever having to cover her tracks and hide her close scrapes with scandal.
“When I saw Coco last night, she was leaving the library with a heavy book and said she planned to sit up and read until the early hours. It makes sense that she would probably be trying to catch up on sleep this morning,” said Victoria.
Augusta gave a mere nod to her sister’s lie and added, “I shall go and check on her after breakfast.”
A cup of tea was placed in front of Lady Anne, and she took a sip. When an uncomfortable silence descended, Augusta went back to her eggs and salmon. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but if she kept stuffing food into her mouth, her mother would find it difficult to undertake any serious interrogation of her daughters and their plans for the day.
Victoria finished up her coffee, then rose from the table with a polite, “Please excuse me. I have some matters which need my attention.”
Lady Victoria had recently declared that the usual offerings at the Mowbray House breakfast table were a waste of her finely tuned palate. She made a point of avoiding the plain fare of toast and eggs.
Augusta suspected that her sister would be shortly stealing out the front door and making her way over to the local German bakery, where she would avail herself of some freshly baked sourdough bread, topped with lashings of salted butter.
I wonder which footman will win the prize of accompanying her today.
Her maid had shared the gossip from below stairs that being able to shadow Lady Victoria when she visited the bakery was a task fiercely contested by the young footmen of Mowbray House. A generous serving of butter on a slice of thick, hot bread was a strong lure for any young man, especially when it was paid for by a duke’s daughter.
But Augusta had more pressing concerns this morning. She had to get Victoria to speak to Gideon. Dabbing at her lips with her napkin, she also excused herself, then hurried after her sister.
To her relief, Victoria was not only still outside in the hallway, but she was also talking to their brother. As Augusta approached, Gideon turned to her. The expression of deep concern on his face had her slowing her steps.
“I was just saying to Victoria that I am beginning to have serious concerns about Flynn. I’m not sure if you have noticed, but he hasn’t been at any social functions over the past few weeks. He appears to have gone missing. I am worried about him,” said Gideon.
His words sent a spear of dread coursing down Augusta’s spine. If Gideon was concerned about Flynn, then she had good cause to be afraid.
“When did you last see him?” asked Victoria.
Thank you, Victoria.
Gideon frowned. “To be honest, not for a little while. The last time was the week we went to the theatre with him. I’ve been busy working with Papa on the estate accounts and deciding what to do about that patch of land near the top field at Mowbray Park. What with various appointments and letters to the ducal bankers, I simply haven’t had the time to be out in the evening and socializing.”
“How do you know he has gone missing then?” asked Augusta.
While it was a logical question, and one that hopefully wouldn’t raise any suspicions in her brother’s mind, she was determined to get some answers. Her concern was growing stronger by the day.
“Well, Richard was meant to meet him for their regular monthly roast pork supper earlier in the week, but Flynn didn’t show. According to Richard, over the past three years Flynn has never once missed that night. And, of course, we all know that when it comes to food, Viscount Cadnam is always at the head of the line. That was the first inkling I had that something might be amiss.”
Augusta hated it when people spoke about Flynn like that, as if he was some hungry beast who was never satisfied. Gideon might well have meant it as a mere comment, but it still had her clenching her fingers into balls.
“Then, when I was at White’s club late yesterday, I happened to mention Flynn, and one of the footmen noted that he hadn’t been in at all over the past few weeks.”
A chill of dread gripped her. Had Flynn gone somewhere outside of London to get married? It would be the perfect explanation for his sudden disappearance. And why news of it may not have been printed in the London newspapers.
What if his father sent him away to stop him from marrying me? I wouldn’t put it past Earl Bramshaw to do such a thing. Anything to control his son’s life.
