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Daphne studied him thoughtfully. "No apology is necessary, Lord Farrington. But if you'll forgive my boldness, is something troubling you? You seem somewhat distraught."
"Do I?" Eric drew a slow breath. "I suppose that's because I am."
"Eric." Brigitte's fingers tightened on his forearm—a warning and a plea. "We needn't burden the duke and duchess with our concerns."
"Please don't feel that way," Daphne countered with a gentle shake of her head. "You're in our home. If there's anything we can do to put you at ease…"
"Can you tell me where your son is?" Eric blurted.
Brigitte made a soft sound of dismay and averted her eyes.
"Our son?" It was Pierce who spoke, his dark brows drawing together in surprise. "Which son? And why would any of their whereabouts concern you? I don't understand."
"I think I do." Daphne's opal gaze swept the room, affirming what she already suspected. "You're wondering where Ashford went." A pause. "And if he went alone."
"Precisely." Eric's jaw was clenched. "I'm not a rude man, Your Grace. Nor am I ungrateful for your hospitality. But…"
"You needn't explain," Daphne interrupted with that gentle air of authority she possessed. "We have five children of our own, Lord Farrington; two of whom happen to be daughters. Your sentiments are not unfamiliar to me."
Comprehension registered on Pierce's face, and his head shot up, his steely gaze assessing the ballroom. "Ashford is with Noelle. Is that what this is about?"
"Yes," Eric replied. "It is." He dragged an uncomfortable hand through his hair. "This situation is very awkward, as you can see by my wife's mortified expression. I didn't mean to be rude, nor even to broach this subject. Your son is a grown man, and you're not responsible for his actions. I just didn't expect… I mean, I knew they were drawn to each other from the start, despite my attempts to stall things until Noelle had been properly brought out, but…"
"What attempts to stall things?" Pierce demanded. "I know only that they met on the railroad—and that Ashford was unusually eager for Noelle to attend this party."
"I suspected as much," Eric muttered. "To answer your question, yes, they met on the railroad, at which time Ashford expressed his interest in calling on Noelle. When she told me about it, I insisted she write to him, tell him to wait until after the Season was under way. She did so—reluctantly." Eric scanned the room again, his uneasiness intensifying by the minute. "In all fairness, Noelle is as captivated by your son as he is by her. But she's far younger and less experienced. And now they've vanished into the night. Frankly, I'm worried sick."
Pierce's shoulders squared, paternal defensiveness surging to life. "I know my son, Farrington. He would never take advantage of a young, innocent woman. Never."
"Of course not." Brigitte responded swiftly to abate the tension. "They've probably just gone out for some air."
"In January?" Eric countered. "Brigitte, there's frost on the ground. The conditions are hardly conducive to taking a late night stroll."
"I intend to find out, if only to put your mind at rest." Pierce scrutinized the room one last time, as if certain he'd spy Ashford and Noelle deep in conversation in some proper but as-of-yet unchecked location.
Seeing that wasn't the case, he frowned and veered toward the doorway, then halted as he saw his elderly butler enter the room, walking stiffly toward them. "Why is Langley awake?" he murmured. "I told him to retire for the night."
"Pardon me, Your Grace." Langley supplied the answer himself, reaching Pierce's side and immediately launching into an explanation for his appearance. "You have a visitor."
"A visitor? At this hour?"
"Yes, sir." A discreet pause. "It's Mr. Blackstreet. He claims it's a matter of some urgency. I showed him to your study."
"I see." Pierce displayed no visible reaction to this peculiar occurrence, other than to offer Brigitte and Eric a brief, apologetic look. "Please excuse me," he requested courteously.
"Of course," Eric replied.
Hearing the tension in Eric's tone, noting the grim lines still surrounding his mouth, Pierce turned back to his butler. "Langley, you didn't happen to see Ashford anywhere, did you?"
"Why, yes, sir. Master Ashford is in the hall chatting with Lady Noelle."
Eric sagged with relief.
"Evidently, they've found a common interest to discuss," Pierce remarked offhandedly. "Thank you, Langley," he added to his butler.
"Not at all, sir. Will there be anything else?"
"Only that you get some rest."
