Page 44 of The Widow Wore Plaid

Her hasty words earlier had come back to haunt her. She didn’t wish Lord Harold to think her a silly girl who read too many romance novels, so she could scarcely confess the plot of one of her favorites had included a kidnapping. “I think the unexpected news that they were missing caused me to put forward a rather rash speculation, my lord. No, I doubt seriously they have been kidnapped.” She peered around them, then lowered her voice. “I suspect they have taken the opportunity of being alone for the day and have eloped.”

“Eloped?” He frowned. “But they were to have been married here in just four days’ time. Why do something so impetuous?”

“Because it would be so romantic, my lord.” Just the word “elopement” sent shivers down Bella’s spine. “To love someone so desperately that you would run away to Gretna Green so you could marry them is the most romantic gesture imaginable.”

“Well, as we’re in Scotland they needn’t journey all the way to Gretna. If they wanted to marry immediately, they could visit the smith in Fodderty, or the clergyman for that matter.” Lord Harold shook his head. “They had no need to elope that I can see and if they did, no reason to go farther than the village where they apparently haven’t been seen either.” His normally jovial face went grim. “I suspect it may be something more serious. An injury out in the woods, perhaps. Unexpected things do happen, Miss Granger. And if Kinellan were able, he’d have been back here by now. I fear they are in some trouble and not on a quest for romance.”

“I pray you are mistaken, Lord Harold.” Bella put her spoon down, her appetite suddenly vanished. If something untoward had happened to either Lord Kinellan or Jane, her sister-in-law would be absolutely distraught. The pair had played a huge part in aiding Maria’s marriage to Hugh and Jane was in fact Maria’s kinsman. The cruel blow, should something have happened to either one, would devastate Bella’s sister-in-law. At such a delicate time in Maria’s pregnancy, Bella feared for the woman’s life.

“As do I, Miss Granger.” Lord Harold picked up his wineglass and drained it. “But I very much fear I am not.”

* * *

After dinner, the ladies had retired for their tea as usual and Matthew had immediately poured a sizeable tumbler of brandy for himself. The tension at dinner had been disturbing, mostly because he’d always been a man of action. Having to wait for the information he needed regarding Kinellan’s movements earlier in the day made him edgy. He’d tried to dismiss his unease and talk normally to his dinner partners, but the uncertainty of the situation had made him distant at best and rude at worst. He’d kept running scenario after scenario through his mind, attempting to discover a plausible explanation for Kinellan’s absence. Unfortunately, he’d only succeeded in tormenting himself with images of his friend injured and bleeding in a ditch somewhere in the Scottish countryside.

Then there was the possibility that Jane had been injured. Without a doubt, had something untoward happened to her, Kinellan would not have left her side. Not even to seek assistance. In such a case, had it been him, Matthew couldn’t fathom leaving Fanny alone and injured. The agonies the man might be going through should this be the case were unbearable.

Only a swallow of cognac was left in Matthew’s glass when the door opened admitting Grant. Unobtrusively, the butler slipped over to Matthew. “A word, my lord, in private?”

Setting his glass down with a dull thud, Matthew nodded and followed the man out. “What news, Grant?”

“I first checked with Cook, who admitted that Lord Kinellan requested a picnic lunch from the kitchen this morning.”

“But he gave no indication where he was going?” Could they discover no clue to his friend’s whereabouts?

“She said he specifically requested that everything be wrapped so that it would not get wet.” Grant looked at him hopefully. “Does that suggest anything to you, my lord?”

“Only the loch that sits half a mile away.” A gleam of hope shot through Matthew. Could Kinellan and Jane have picnicked near the lake and met with misfortune? If so, there was plenty of time and daylight to mount a rescue this instant. “Did anyone else see or hear anything?”

“One of the grooms who brought his lordship’s and Lady John’s horses around this morning lingered after they rode out. He said they turned toward the right once they’d crossed the bridge.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Definitely not toward Fodderty?”

“No, m’lord. Quite the opposite direction.”

“Is that the way to Loch Kinellan?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Before the words were quite out of the butler’s mouth, Matthew whirled around and strode back into the dining room. There was no time to lose. The men chatting there ceased their talk and as if one, turned toward him.

“I have information that Lord Kinellan and Lady John may be somewhere near Loch Kinellan.” The hum of lowered voices rose immediately. “At least that is the direction they seemed to have headed this morning. I propose a search party to scour the shores for them.”

“Now?” Lord Brack glanced toward the window, which showed the deep twilight of the Scottish night. “We’d be walking through unfamiliar territory in the dark.” He looked from face to face around him. “It would complicate the matter greatly were any of us to go missing as well.”

“We’ve lanterns, my lord,” Grant volunteered. “And I can fetch the grooms, coachman, and footmen to help. They do know the land better.”

“Good man. Gather them together at the front of the castle. Gentlemen, I suggest we change into riding kit and meet them as soon as possible. Thank you, Grant.” Lathbury nodded to the butler, who hurried out.

“Why do you think they have gone toward the loch, Lathbury?” Lord Wrotham fell into step with Matthew as they left the room.

“Something Kinellan told the cook this morning. I may be completely wrong, but I have an inkling that I’m not.” At least, for Kinellan’s and Jane’s sakes, he hoped he was correct in his assumption.

“I’ll be as quick as I can then.” The earl sped into his chamber calling for his valet.

Matthew headed down the corridor to his and Fanny’s room. Doing something was always better than doing nothing or just talking about a problem. Action was the ticket every time. He opened the door and bellowed, “Tidwell!”

His valet popped out of the dressing room, eyes wide. “My lord?” The man’s gaze took in Matthew’s appearance from top to toe. “Is something amiss?”