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Barclay bit his lip, visibly uncomfortable at the question.
“Tell me, Mr. Thompson, when you were my age—what were you doing?”
His gaze dropped to his boots, which he studied carefully. After a moment, he mumbled a reply. “I was training to be an architect.”
“And what did that involve? In that specific year?”
He cocked his head to think. “That would have been the final year of designing and drawing plans.”
“You were designing buildings?”
“Elevations, mostly.”
“But you were so young. How could you possibly have known your own mind? How could you know you would be an architect? How could you design elevations for buildings? Surely you were too young?”
“It is more complicated than that! There is my social status and …”
“And?”
“I cannot debate with you. My daughter is missing. Do you know where she might be?”
“Tatiana frequently wanders off on her own. Why are you so anxious?”
“She was gone before Aurora awoke. To our knowledge, she has not had her breakfast.”
Jane paused, apprehension washing over her despite her physical discomfort. “How long has she been missing?”
“Since sometime between last night and this morning. Do you know of places she might go?”
Jane rubbed her aching temple. “I cannot think.” She reached a trembling hand out to grasp the coffeepot. Aurora’s advice to drink a small quantity was now an urgent matter.
“Miss Davis!”
Her heart sank, as did her hand back to her side before the newest arrival could see what she was about. “Mr. Dunsford.”
She saw a grimace flash across Barclay’s face as he politely turned toward the gentleman standing in the doorway. Mr. Dunsford was prepared for the outdoors, a beaver tucked under his arm. “I was hoping to talk to you, Miss Davis. Could we have a word alone?” He glanced at her companion, who was glowering at her side.
“That is hardly appropriate,” growled Barclay.
Mr. Dunsford frowned slightly at the accusation. “Yet you are alone with Miss Davis?”
“We are related. Miss Davis is my sister-in-law, as you are well aware. I must insist I remain to chaperon if you wish to talk with the young lady.”
Jane quelled her irritation. Sister-in-law? Chaperon? She could cheerfully punch Barclay in the face. Drawing a deep breath, she feigned a calm voice. “I shall think about your question and get back to you. Mr. Dunsford wishes to speak with me, and I am sure it will be acceptable if we keep the door ajar, so please allow me to have my conversation with the gentleman.”
Barclay turned his narrowed eyes on her, and in their depths, she observed concern. What was he concerned about? Mr. Dunsford hardly presented a danger—he was a guest of the earl!
“I shall wait outside.”
Jane shook her head. “That is hardly necessary. You should find Tatiana.”
Barclay bit his lip, clearly torn. Lowering his voice, he spoke to her privately. “Just do not agree to anything. Tell him you will think about it.”
Jane wrinkled her nose, a question hovering on her lips as the architect left her side.
* * *
As Barclay left the library, he could not deny his fears on her behalf. Jane was sensible, and he hoped his warning was enough to delay her acceptance of Dunsford’s proposal.
