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His lips twitched, then he sobered. “I dearly wish to see you gain a measure of contentment. Even Mother wishes you would remarry. You are only twenty-six, my dear, and more beautiful than half of the women of the ton.”
“Only half?”
He scowled. “Be serious.”
She met his eyes, alerted to the discomfort in his tone. “And that is all, a wish to see me happy?”
“Yes.”
“I thank you for your sentiments, but I do not require my older brother to meddle in my life and advise me when I must take a lover,” she said with some amusement. “That I can do when I am ready.”
“You sequester yourself in the country and hardly attend the coveted events of the season, despite your numerous invitations.”
“I have rejoined society,” she stubbornly insisted, distaste of their topic of discourse stirring in her blood. “I’ve attended three balls and a musicale, and reopened our box at the theater this week.”
“You spend most of your time in Kent.”
“With my son.” Another pang pierced her at the thought of being away from her precious boy.
“Georgiana—”
“No, Simon, this is not what I wanted to speak with you of. I assumed you were dragged from your club to tonight’s ball to discuss my letters.”
He sighed. “I feel your concern is unwarranted. Servants disappear from their households all the time without a writ of notice. This is quite beneath your attention.”
She waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Rubbish.” She cleared her throat. “You did see in my letter that it is Jane who is missing?” Georgiana had made sure to inform him beforehand the identity of the missing worker, hoping to elicit his compassion.
“Nicolas’s young nursemaid,” he said flatly.
“Yes.” And the woman she had once come upon trembling and moaning with his head buried between her thighs. Her brother had been demeaning himself to dally with a servant in her household, a young girl who had clearly believed herself to love him. The scoundrel. Despite Jane’s fears, Georgiana had not dismissed her, understanding full well how easily she could have fallen for Simon’s ruthless charm. The ton did not refer to him as a rakehell in jest, though she also knew it was a carefully cultivated persona.
“The last time she was seen by anyone in our household was as she played by the lake with Nicolas. I will never forget the terror that tore through my heart when I spied him paddling in the water alone. Jane should have been with him. I simmered in my anger for hours and prepared to dismiss her, but she did not join the other servants for luncheon or dinner that evening. Our butler and housekeeper assure me Jane would not run away. She has a family who relies on the income provided to her.”
“And she is not with her family?”
She dealt him a look of affront. “I was thorough in my investigations. I paid a visit to her family in Lambeth. The last time they saw or heard from her was three weeks before her disappearance.”
“You visited them directly?”
“Yes.”
He seemed to draw patience from a well of forbearance. “Devil take it, Georgie, you are a duchess. You had no cause to…to…”
She touched his hands gently, halting the diatribe she could see coming. “Jane has been missing for weeks and no one cares. That is all the reason I need.”
Simon heaved a frustrated sigh and thrust his hands through his hair. “The report you sent me from Bow Street and the magistrate seemed conclusive. The girl ran away.”
The girl. She wanted to smack him for his indifference. “I saw you with that girl…in a very compromising position, might I remind you. I would believe you would have some sympathy for her plight.”
Georgiana stood and started to pace. A few seconds later she tipped her head to the night sky, gazing up at its vast beauty. “I cannot simply ignore the fact no one has heard from her.”
“Have you considered her family may have hidden her away because she is with child? That is not so uncommon.”
There was an odd note in his voice, and she leveled a stern gaze at him. “Did she tell you she was with your child?”
“No,” he gritted out. “I haven’t spoken to her since that day, four months past, and if you recall, I have not visited Meadowbrook Park since. But it is entirely possible she had other lovers. I…I was not her first.”
Was she overthinking the matter? She bit into the soft of her lip, fighting the tide of doubt pressing against her. “I’ve hired men to find her. Men who have scoured the countryside and even London, and do you know what I found? Silence. One so deep I am profoundly disturbed. Shouldn’t there be at least a rumor of some sort? Instead, there is nothing. I must do something. I cannot in good conscience ignore the warnings stirring in me,” Georgiana said softly.
He sighed in evident resignation and said, “I have reached out to my connections for help.”
Relief crashed into her. “Thank you, Simon. Though I do not appreciate you not saying so from the beginning of the conversation. I worried for naught.”
“Do not thank me yet,” he muttered, tugging at his cravat. “You believe something sinister is underf
oot, and I should be urging you away from any possible danger, not committing you to examining the mystery deeper.”
“What possible danger could I be in?”
“There is a man…” A myriad of emotions flashed across her brother’s face—uncertainty, determination…and was that fear? “What the hell am I thinking?” he muttered.
She frowned. “Simon—”
“My work for the crown has seen me dealing with a few men of…undesirable character and dubious connections.”
“Yes?”
“Dangerous men, Georgie. Men I shouldn’t even be thinking of bringing to your attention.”
“Are these dangerous men needed in finding Jane?”
“Only one’s expertise is needed, and I must be afflicted to involve him in this business.”
“Is Jane not worth it?” she whispered. Though she doubted the veracity of the danger these men might present. Simon had always been her protector and had thought everything his dear sisters encountered over the years to be a grave and terrible danger.
“There is a man… He is called The Broker.”
The Broker? “Yes?”
Simon grimaced and stood. “His real name is Rhys Tremayne, and even in that regard, there is doubt. But he is the man to ask for help.”
Doubt lurked deep in her brother’s tone.
“I sense hesitation.”
“His currency is not one you are familiar with. He does nothing for money.”
She folded her arms across her middle and tapped one of her feet, disliking the slight unease wafting through her. “Every man can be bought.” That had been her experience. Even she had been purchased at the age of sixteen for marriage. It had been Hardcastle who had settled an unmatched sum on her parents, who had been well pleased she had fetched such a worthy price. She had abandoned her foolish and romantic dreams of marrying for love and had become a duchess to a man three times her age.
“Not with money.”
“What would he want if not coins?”
“I don’t know,” Simon growled. “That is why I am so damned hesitant for you to bargain with him. I cannot pretend I need his services, for he does not deal with third parties, and that man is like the devil himself—he always knows when the truth is not forthcoming. He has a reputation for always knowing.”
