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“I do,” she said, feeling less panicky already as her nerves started to settle with the resolution of a plan that worked for her.
“There’s food here,” Cora said. “You should eat, use the water closet once the train starts moving, and get some rest. It won’t be long before we arrive in Paris, about six hours with stops.”
“Good.” She glanced at her loyal maid, who was preparing her a small plate of food from the basket on the table. “Thank you for doing this, Cora.”
She shook her head. “I’ll say one thing for you, my lady. You do keep life interesting.”
***
“What do you mean, she’s not here?”
Attempting unsuccessfully to curb his mounting temper, Valentine scowled at the hapless servant hovering in the doorway.
He’d spent a restless night, tossing and turning and unable to sleep, a deeply unsettling sensation crawling under his skin that something wasn’t quite right. Lord Daley had brayed all evening about the love of his life’s being so dreadfully ill, and when Valentine had gone to check, unlocking the door to the darkened room with a special set of instruments that opened any lock, he’d been satisfied.
Yes, he knew it was untoward to let himself into a lady’s room without her permission, but it’d been for his own peace of mind. Besides, she was his prisoner. He’d caught a whiff of her sweet, distinctive scent, seen the provocative bright yellow dress she’d worn draped untidily over the edge of the chair as if she’d undressed in a hurry.
He had frowned, wondering why her lady’s maid hadn’t done her job and put away the obviously expensive gown, but maybe she’d been more concerned with her sick mistress. To that end, the Bronwyn-shaped lump in the middle of the mattress had satisfied him enough to creep back outside and take himself off to his own quarters.
Now, however, he frowned, rubbing his gritty, sleep-deprived eyes.
“Begging your pardon, milord. I came to clean this morning as I always do, and no one was here. I thought milady was still asleep, but there were only pillows beneath the sheets.” She shook her head with rounded eyes. “Very strange.”
Valentine went preternaturally still at her pronouncement before nearly shoving past the maid and letting out a roar of fury when he yanked the counterpane all the way off. She wasn’t there because she was never in bed at all.Damn it!He wanted to tear into the pillows that he had foolishly assumed had beenher. He’d fallen for an old childhood trick foisted upon unsuspecting parents. It was already hours later. She could be anywhere. He knew for a fact she wasn’t hiding on the ship—why would she be? No, she was gone.
Still, he had to be sure.
He ran out of the room and down the corridor. His first stop was the captain’s quarters. Attempting to draw his rage under control, he breathed in through his nose, striving for calm when the man’s eyes rounded with surprise and fear. “I need all of the crew supervisors on duty immediately.”
Seeing his expression, the captain made no bones about giving the directive to a nearby crewman, and within short order, a small crowd had gathered, including Lisbeth and Rawley. He met the man’s concerned stare.
“What’s the matter?” Rawley asked, drawing him aside.
“She’s bloody gone,” Valentine bit out, searching the other man’s eyes for any possible sign that he’d known about the bird’s overnight flight. “Lady Bronwyn.”
Lisbeth let out a small gasp from where she stood. Rawley’s gaze narrowed when he shook his head. “No, she was ill and in bed. I checked last night and again earlier this morning when I brought her a tincture for her headache. She was still asleep.”
Valentine exhaled. “It’s not her. Pillows, not a body. She’s gone. Fooled us all.” God, he could barely form the words through his clenched jaw, but at least, he knew that Rawley looked as surprised as he’d been by the news.
“Where would she go?” Rawley muttered. “Why would she leave in the first place?”
Because she’s under arrest, Valentine nearly shouted. And she’s the Kestrel, a notorious operative I’ve been tracking for weeks.Not that Rawley, or anyone beyond Lisbeth, would know that. He was likely sent here by Ashvale to keep an eye on his sister, without having any clue of her secret, illicit identity.
Valentine stared at the gathered men. “Did anyone leave the ship last night?”
“The footbridge was up, Your Grace,” one of the men said. “Captain’s orders. No one but workers checking on the boiler can leave. The checks were completed and we were due to leave port this morning.”
“I need every room on this ship searched,” he commanded.
“Your Grace!” the captain spluttered, but Valentine’s glare shushed him.
“I am the highest-ranking peer on this ship, and a lady is missing. If you don’t intend to have her disappearance on your conscience, you will do as I say. Every nook and cranny must be searched. Get your men on it, now.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Rawley cleared his throat. “Where do you want me?”
“Was her maid with you?” Valentine asked. “The small blond-haired chit. I did not see her in the room this morning. You two are courting, are you not?”
