Page 93 of An Inconvenient Vow

The door pushed open, and Sabina gave a low moan of distress. She could not so much as retreat a single step, for her back was pressed flat to the wall. Jeffree’s only concession to decency was to slide his hand from her bosom to her waist. He turned to look back irritably over his shoulder.

“Osborn, is that you? Go to the devil, you plaguey nuisance! Can’t you see your master is otherwise occupied?”

“Osborn told me where to find you, it is true,” came back the clipped reply that was certainly not Osborn. “If my business here could be avoided, I assure you I would do so assiduously.”

Sabina gasped. It was Sir Charles Ellis. She tried to wrench herself out of Jeffree’s embrace but he was having none of it. Instead, he practically dragged her to a chair beside the fireplace and thrust her into it. “Do not move,” he growled at her before lifting his voice to invite his godfather to come in. “Charles, you are welcome here; come take a seat.”

Sir Charles advanced into the room, distaste clear upon on his pale, shaken face. Sabina could see a hot flush climbing up his neck, even from where she was sat. He seemed incapable of even looking in her direction.

“You have not greeted my wife,” Jeffree pointed out.

Sir Charles turned her way and swallowed. Sabina took pity on him. After all, he did believe her to be the worst kind of trollop, ensnaring his godson and forcing him into marriage. “It is good to see you again, Sir Charles,” she lied. He made some murmured reply and Jeffree bade him take a seat.

“Well and how fares it with you, Charles?” Jeffree asked. “Can I send for some refreshment?”

Sir Charles made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Never mind with that. Have you heard from my son?” he asked hoarsely.

“Leland?” Jeffree’s tone was surprised. “Never tell me he is still missing!”

Sir Charles closed his eyes briefly. “I have not discovered hide nor hair of him for nearly three weeks.”

Jeffree seemed taken aback by this news. He walked to the chair opposite his godfather and sat down. “You wrote to Mallenby as I suggested?” he asked slowly.

“Mallenby, Spencer, the whole pack of his friends, past and present. None of them will own to having heard so much as a peep from the boy.” Sir Charles opened and closed one bony fist convulsively. “I fear the worst.” He covered his eyes abruptly, his words ending with something approaching a sob.

“Charles…” Jeffree darted a panicked look in Sabina’s direction. She rose reluctantly to her feet.

“I will fetch some brandy-wine,” she suggested and, when Jeffree looked as though to argue, added quickly, “I think Sir Charles will speak easier without me here.”

The older man said nothing, though she thought his shoulders relaxed slightly. She darted her eyes at Jeffree, but he seemed entirely clueless of how to proceed.

Quickly, Sabina crossed the room and hurried out to the kitchen. She was not the right person to console Sir Charles. She had no sympathy for his missing son. Leland Ellis was a villain as far as she was concerned, and whatever fate had befallen him, he likely deserved.

She tarried in the kitchen as long as she dared, resecuring her headdress before fetching a flagon of brandy-wine from the buttery along with two of Jeffree’s own fancy goblets from his stores. On the threshold, she paused to steel herself to withstand the older man’s blast of dislike.

“And you believed her?” she heard Sir Charles hiss.

“I did. I do,” Jeffree answered. “She has given me her word that she was no part of the plot. Any action she took that day was purely to mitigate her sister’s plight.”

“I cannot believe you would simply accept the word of a woman like that—” Sir Charles began hotly, then broke off his incensed words when Sabina took a step through the doorway.

“Here we are,” she said loudly and walked to the table plunking her tray down noisily.

“Sabina,” Jeffree beckoned to her. “Come here.” She obeyed though she dragged her feet. Jeffree pulled up a chair beside his own and patted the leather-lined seat. “I would consult with you on this matter.”

Sir Charles made a choked sound, which Jeffree ignored.

“Yes?” Sabina asked warily, sitting herself down.

“My godfather’s son is still not found, despite the enquiries that have been made hereabouts.” He paused heavily; his eyes boring into hers. “I ask you plainly, can you think of any avenue we have left unexplored when it comes to recovering him?”

The hairs on the back of Sabina’s neck started to rise. What was this? She darted a glance at Sir Charles Ellis, and what she saw there gave her small comfort, for his eyes were full of unspoken accusation. Did they think her family had some hand in Leland Ellis’ disappearance? Sabina’s throat turned suddenly dry.

“How should I?” she asked. “I am barely acquainted with Sir Leland and his habits.” She could not forbear a curl of her lip at the mention of the last.

Jeffree paused, but when Sir Charles started to angry speech, he shot him a quelling glance. “As you have said before, we inhabitants of Ganford Chase do not mix much with the local populace. It could be that you have some ideas that have not occurred to those there.”

Sabina stared back at him, her fingers curling until her nails bit into her palms. She took several deep breaths before making a reply. “Perhaps they should make enquiries at The Blue Boar,” she suggested bitterly. “That is an old haunt of his and where he met with his co-conspirator, Alfred Hendry, is it not?”