Cassie’s heart further softened toward the man. “How horrible!”
No matter what her feelings toward Harbury and Vivianne, now was not the time to indulge them. Now was the time to act. And, to properly understand what she could do to help, she had to set aside her upset.
“He must be found,” she mused. “And quickly!”
“He has been,” Miss Clapham responded. “Soon after my father left Mrs. Grant, he came across Anderson in the church, talking to one of the monuments. I was in the back doing some dusting.”
“The most recent monument,” Mrs. Townsend added with a significant glance. “The one of the duke’s father. I went in after having heard the commotion from the street.”
“My father has been able to keep Mr. Anderson there at present, but Mr. Anderson is, well…not right.”
“I encouraged Miss Clapham to come to you.”
“Not to Mrs. Grant?”
“No matter what Mrs. Grant believes, we aren’t sure she has Mr. Anderson’s best interests in mind,” Miss Clapham explained.
“Or the duke’s,” Mrs. Townsend added.
“You see,” Miss Clapham continued, “he says he will burn down the church if my father does not produce the duke—the real duke. He has the tinderbox, but so far, my father has been able to keep him calm by telling him he must wait for word.”
A cold sense of premonition shivered over Cassie’s skin. Not only was she concerned for Anderson, but also for the rector, as well as St. Margaret’s, a jewel at the very heart of the Harbury estate. If she didnot see this through in careful, deliberate, and precise steps, the day could end in an even greater disaster.
“I feel absolutely certain Mr. Anderson would listen to the old duke.” Mrs. Townsend sadly shook her head. “If he were here.”
She raised her gaze to the portrait of Harbury’s father—high cheekbones, cleft chin, large dark eyes. She’d never noticed the stunning resemblance.
“Perhaps there is a way he can be,” she said to the ladies.
She would need everyone’s help, including—much as she wished things were otherwise—Lady Pennington.
“Might you two be willing to sit with Lady Pennington? She is quite upset, as you might imagine.”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Townsend answered.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back to the church?” asked Miss Clapham.
“Yes,” Cassie agreed. “And you will, but not alone. My hope is that, after Lady Pennington has had a chance to calm herself, she will permit you to accompany her back to the church. I also intend to send our carriage, along with four footmen and, of course, the duke. If everything goes well, Mr. Anderson will have the direction he seeks, from the man he seeks.”
Mrs. Townsend and Miss Clapham exchanged a confused glance. Then, Mrs. Townsend shifted in her seat. Just as Cassie had, she studied the prior duke’s portrait.
“An inspired idea, Your Grace.”
All three ladies rose.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I must make a few additional arrangements.”
She bid them farewell and went to find Mrs. Pratt.
Mrs. Townsend and Miss Clapham had come to her because she was duchess, because they knew she would do whatever she could to protect her own.
She was still furious with her husband, and equally exasperated by the things Lady Pennington had said, but she set aside her anger and disappointment—for now.
Something greater than her heart was at stake.
Chapter Sixteen
Harbury tilted hishead, unsure he had properly heard his housekeeper. “Are you certain the duchess said she wanted Lady Pennington to wait in the parlor?”
