Page 100 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

The house was ablaze with far too many lights. Ravenhill should have been shrouded in darkness save for the hall, yet lamps were glowing in every downstairs window and figures were moving frantically near the steps.

Ronan saw it too, and his entire demeanor shifted. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I cannot say,” she replied, her heart beginning to race.

Before another word could be spoken, the door was wrenched open.

A servant stood there, breathless and disheveled.

“Your Grace.”

Ronan was already reaching for his cane, his voice low and dangerous.

“What has happened?”

The man faltered, his eyes darting away. “Your Grace, we have been scouring the entire estate.”

Ronan went deathly still. “Searching for what?”

The man looked at Augusta, his expression full of pity, then back to the Duke.

“For Lady Sarah, sir.”

The blood drained from Augusta’s face in an instant, and Ronan’s knuckles were white against the silver head of his cane.

“Explain yourself. What do you mean, searching for Sarah?”

“She was tucked in as usual, Your Grace. The governess checked her earlier, but upon her return, the nursery was empty. We thought she might be hiding or had wandered down to the kitchens, so we searched the house before sending for you.”

“How long has she been gone?”

The servant swallowed hard. “Nearly two hours, sir.”

CHAPTER 17

The letter was waiting for Ronan by the time they came inside, though Augusta did not notice it immediately.

Her attention was fixed upon her husband, who had gone so terribly quiet after hearing that Sarah could not be found that she almost wished he would shout, demand answers, or do anything instead of standing in the entrance hall like a statue.

A member of the staff approached before either of them could move farther into the house, holding out a folded sheet of paper with such reluctance that Augusta’s stomach tightened before he had spoken a word.

“Your Grace, this was left behind for you.”

Ronan looked at the letter, then at the man. “Left by whom?”

“We do not know, Your Grace,” the servant seemed confused themselves.

For the first time since they had stepped from the carriage, something openly dangerous entered Ronan’s expression. It disappeared almost at once, but Augusta saw it; so, she suspected, did the servant, who lowered his gaze as Ronan took the paper from him. She watched his face as his eyes moved over the page.

“Ronan?” she asked. “What does it say?”

His fingers tightened around the paper. “Whoever has Sarah wants me to meet him tomorrow.”

Augusta stared at him. “Tomorrow? Where?”

“The place that he has given is rather secluded,” he admitted. “But I recognize it, and it shouldn’t be too difficult to get there.”

“And what does he want?” Augusta felt worry flood her veins.