After he bathed, ate, and dressed, he felt like himself again. Today, he had a meeting with his solicitors to discuss the purchase of the country estate he wanted to live in with Phoebe and, hopefully, their children. Even if, God forbid, she was never found and they never married, he still wanted the estate as a retreat where he could spend his old age alone with his thoughts. Melancholy wasn’t something he needed today, so he tried his best to push it away. Yesterday, Burns had uncovered encouraging information. So why the melancholy? He hadn’t a clue.
Nothing went as planned that day, so he found himself reaching out to Lady Emma. He needed someone else who cared for and loved Miss Windham.
A footman announced him into the drawing room, “Your Grace, the Duke of Weston.”
“Your Grace,” Lady Greenwich rose from her seat and curtsied. “What a lovely surprise. Please have a seat. Would you like some tea?”
“No.” He sat on one of the settees next to Lady Emma. “I’ve come to call on Lady Emma.”
The countess beamed. He didn’t bother to correct her mistaken belief that he was interested in courting her daughter, as it worked better if she believed it.
“How splendid.” She stood and shooed her other daughters out of the room. I’ll give you a few moments to visit. I’ll be right outside the open doors.”
When she left, Oliver glanced at the doors and saw, true to her word, Lady Greenwich standing there but looking at the floor. He spoke softly and told Lady Emma what he learned from Burns.
“It’s so strange that we believe we know our parents, yet we really don’t.”
“I’ll send word or return when I know more,” he said as he stood and bowed. Making a show of kissing her hand and saying loudly so it would carry, “Until next time, Lady Emma.”
“Yes. Until next time,” Lady Emma said, playing along and blushing.
As he left the drawing room, he bowed to Lady Greenwich and hurried out the door. He kept thinking he would never set foot in Greenwich House again, yet there he was... again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Oliver was in his study on the fifth day of Miss Winham’s disappearance when Edwards entered, carrying the tray with the daily mail. “The post has arrived, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Edwards. Put it on the sideboard.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The surface of Oliver’s desk was covered with estate business. For days, he had been staring at it. That was when he wasn’t wallowing in self-pity. His mind constantly drifted to Miss Windham. Ever since she went missing, he thought of her nonstop and fell more and more in love with her. His feelings were partly based on memories and his imagination about her. But whenever he thought of her, his whole being ached for her. He missed her terribly. He’d never experienced such emotions before.
Leaving the estate papers cluttered and in disarray on his desk, he turned around and picked up the day’s correspondence. The social invitations he recognized he set aside for another time. Not until Miss Windham was safe would he venture out into society. He flipped one letter over and over in his hand. He didn’t recognize the seal, but when he raised it to his nose and sniffed, his body froze. Her scent. Miss Windham’s scent filled his nostrils. He snapped the wax seal and, with trembling hands, unfolded the cheap foolscap.
Your Grace,
I’m safe. The mail coach only stops here once every fortnight, so this is the first time I’ve been able to contact you. My aunt had me kidnapped and taken to her aunt in the countryside. I have a long story to tell you, which Hennie (Lady Greenwich’s aunt) shared with me. It involves my parents and Lord and Lady Greenwich.Hennie told me she didn’t know I was arriving and she worries that Lady Greenwich could send her ruffians and move me at any time.
On the second page of this letter is a map that Hennie drew. If it’s not too much to ask, can you come get me? I will be anxiously awaiting your arrival. Before you leave, could you please reach out to Lady Emma and secure some clothing for me? I would be very appreciative to wear some of my own.
Yours truly,
Miss Phoebe Windham
Oliver couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart or his elated smile upon realizing Miss Windham... Phoebe was safe. With trembling hands, he wrote two notes—one to Burns and another to Mrs. Dove-Lyon—explaining the note he’d received and asking Mr. Burns to join him in rescuing Phoebe at dawn tomorrow. He didn’t expect any trouble, but he wouldn’t put anything past the countess. For all he knew, the thugs who took her could be watching the cabin. Going alone would be foolish.
He would bring a chaperone if he believed he could guarantee their safety. But he couldn’t promise anything.
When he finished the missives, he hurried to Edwards and said, “These need to be delivered now. Have the footman wait for a reply to both.”
One hour later, after Oliver had worn a path in the rug in his study, Edwards entered. “Your Grace, the footman just returned,” he said as he handed him two notes.
“Thank you, Edwards. That will be all.”
He bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He left and shut the door. Oliver broke the seal on Mr. Burns’s correspondence first.
