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The widow smiled up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet, and Barclay was reminded of his quest. “Mrs. Gordon, have you perchance seen Tatiana anywhere in the house or grounds?”

She looked confused for a moment, frowning slightly. “Tatiana?”

“My daughter.”

Mrs. Gordon’s face lit up. “Of course, the little imp with the silver hair.”

Barclay suppressed a surge of irritation. He was certain this woman was contemplating taking her place as his wife, but she did not know his child’s name? “Yes. Have you seen her this morning?”

The widow’s expression did not change, but something about how she spoke next made her cheerful countenance seem feigned. “Is she not in the nursery with the other children?”

Barclay sighed. “Tatiana has not been staying in the nursery.”

There was no mistaking it—the widow was appalled. “Why ever not?”

“My daughter is not accustomed to being parted from her family, so she has been staying with her grandmother in her room.”

“Well … that is hardly the way to teach her independence.”

“She is nine years old, and she lost her mother only two years ago. We are allowing her to grieve at her own pace.”

“Two years is a long time. I would say it is high time the young lady attend a ladies’ seminary to master her accomplishments.”

It was Barclay’s turn to look appalled. “I thought you were telling me how you were sent to school too young?”

“I was seven. Tiana is nine years old. She should have been sent off when she was eight.”

“Eight! Her mother had just died.”

Mrs. Gordon thought about it for a moment. “You are correct. If one factors in some time for mourning, then she is the perfect age to be sent off to school. Perhaps I could contact the headmistress of my school in Surrey?”

“Surrey!”

“Yes. It is quite lovely. And the weather is mild like here in Somerset.”

As his mind tried to follow the shift of conversation, he became aware of the sound of birdcalls and the chattering of the guests behind them. He took it all in while he came to the realization that he had been wrong. Very, very wrong. And Tatiana had been right.

Barclay could not help himself. He raised his hands to rake them through his hair. If only he had listened to Tatiana. She had warned him that the widow did not like children, and now he knew his daughter’s instincts had been correct. Who would send such a young child away? A young child who suffered from night terrors and missed her mother like the devil?

He opened his mouth to argue these points, then shut it. He knew, without a doubt, that Mrs. Gordon would brush those issues aside as so much distraction from the main topic.

Composing his thoughts, he prepared to speak again. “Would you like to have children?”

The widow’s face was aghast. “Goodness, no! I hoped that you would be done with all that since you already have a child.”

“Tatiana.”

“Of course, Tiana.”

“Tatiana.”

“That is what I said. Tiana.”

Barclay accepted that he had made a grave error. Tatiana had said that Jane was the new mother she needed. The new wife he needed. He had brushed his daughter’s assertions aside and pursued a woman utterly unsuitable while the perfect wife and mother had been before him. Jane had lovingly read Aladdin to his daughter. They had partaken in activities together. She had even taught his daughter how to play cricket. With a smile on her face and tireless patience in her heart.

And Barclay had cruelly rejected her affections. Admonished her for her age, for her lack of experience. Effectively given her the cut direct.

Now his daughter was missing, and he knew it was because he would not heed her advice to pursue Jane.