Page 37 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

There was a brief moment when Caspian thought about being worried, but that was quickly dismissed because this was just like Timothy.

“I have the staff looking for him,” she hurried. “But you know how he is. When he gets into one of his moods, he likes nothing more than to vanish for a couple of hours. He will turn up soon.”

“One of his moods…” Caspian grimaced. “Brought on by my return, no doubt.”

“No, Your Grace!” Mrs. Roberston said. “That is not it at all.”

“There is no need to placate me, Mrs. Robertson,” Caspian said with a sigh. “I know that Timothy and I are not exactly close. Likely, he hoped that I would stay away for longer.”

“That is not true,” she said, albeit with little conviction. “He loves you, Your Grace.”

Caspian scoffed but said nothing.

It was a startling revelation, and a confirmation of what Caspian had always known. While he was never mean or cruel to Timothy, he was not exactly loving. But that was only because he did not know how to be. He had never been shown what love like that might look like, so he was lost at sea when it came to showcases of warmth and affection.

Timothy might have seen Caspian as a father figure. He might have understood that Caspian meant the best for him. But did he love him? Did he care about Caspian at all?

I am more like my father than I even realized…

It was a chilling thought, but that made it no less true.

The next thirty minutes stretched out as Caspian patiently waited for Timothy to be found. He did not touch his plate of food or sip his glass of wine. He simply sat and waited, his temper turning worse by the second.

“Where is that boy?” he snapped, more to himself than Mrs. Robertson.

“We are searching, Your Grace!” she assured him. “He must be somewhere.”

“Well, obviously, he is somewhere,” Caspian said sharply. “But where?”

It was another ten minutes later when the last person Caspian wanted to see that night appeared in the dining room.

She swept into the room with a level of confidence that Caspian did not expect. Her auburn hair was worn up. Her dress was a simple, comfortable garment, rather than elegant. Yet she walked proudly, a look about her as if she were right at home.

Stranger still, when she saw Caspian seated at the head of the table, she hardly paid him a glance. A quick look, no emotion on her face, save for the smile that grew when she found Mrs. Roberston.

“Mrs. Robertson,” she said brightly, speaking as if Caspian was not there. “You sent for me?”

Caspian frowned in surprise and a hint of annoyance. While he did not want his wife to be scared of him, he might have preferred if she paid him a little more attention. This was his home, after all, so it felt wrong that she acted as if he did not exist.

Really, it called his authority into question, and that hurt most of all.

“I did, Your Grace,” Mrs. Robertson said to Arabella. She went to her, and Arabella took the elderly maid by the hands. Caspian balked at the gesture, noticing immediately a sense of comfort between the two that he could not have possibly expected. “I am so sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Not at all,” Arabella said with a friendly smile. “As you have done so much for me, the least I can do is return the gesture.”

Mrs. Roberston laughed. “You are too kind.”

“Oh, you just bring out that side of me.”

Again, Caspian looked between the two women as if he did not understand what he was seeing. Mrs. Roberston had worked for Caspian for years; few knew him better than her, but even they did not have the level of companionship shown between the two women.

What is going on?

“It is Master Timothy,” Mrs. Roberston said. “It seems that he is missing.”

Arabella laughed. “Missing? Or in hiding?”

“Likely the latter,” Mrs. Roberston laughed along and shook her head. “You know how that child is.”