Page 47

“Please come in and have a seat. I shall request some tea to soothe your nerves.”

Miss Dubois nodded, brushing past him to sink into an armchair at the window where she covered her face and sobbed quietly. His brow furrowed in consternation. Perhaps Miss Dubois and Molly’s tense relationship had deteriorated still further. Was she here to tender her resignation?

Marco walked over to ring the bell, then pulling out a handkerchief, he crossed to the sobbing servant to thrust it in her hand. She took it, wiping at her face, but her misery did not diminish. He looked about, trying to think what to do and feeling torn. He did not care for the shrewish companion, sympathizing with Molly for the position she was in because of his and his companions’ presence in the household, but a weeping woman must be handled with care.

“Miss Dubois, please, I will assist you. What is it?”

“I do not know ’oo to speak to … I thought perhaps you should know … Duncan said you ’ad met with a Runner, so I thought …” Her words were garbled as she cried into his pristine linen square.

“Runner?” Marco echoed in perplexment.

“It ees Miss Carter. I cannot find ’er anywhere.”

Marco suppressed a smile. Her mistress had managed to escape again. Her weeping seemed a bit of an overreaction, but the Frenchwoman had not impressed him with her composure before, so it did not seem all that surprising.

“Come, Miss Dubois, there is no reason to cry. I shall help you look for her, then.”

The chaperon shook her head. “Non, I ’ave searched for ’er. For hours! She ees simply not ’ere. I think you must call the Runner back, non?”

He frowned, walking over to take a seat. “How long has she been missing?”

“Since your meeting zis morning, yes?”

Marco tensed. Confusion and fear were just two of the emotions that surged through his body.

“That was some hours ago.”

“Oui.” Her voice was muffled and lashes flickered up as if to assess how irate he might be. Anger started to prickle as comprehension trickled in, and Marco realized what the tears had been about. Miss Dubois was not crying out of concern for Molly, but rather, she was afraid of how it affected her position. It would appear the diminutive chaperon might harbor some anxieties about finding a new position in the wake of Lady Blackwood’s death and had delayed informing him of Molly’s disappearance in the hopes she would reappear without the necessity of taking responsibility. He had been right. She was a dreadful companion!

“Maledizione!”

He sprang to his feet. What if the butler had somehow gotten hold of her? Molly could be lying dead somewhere. Had MacNaby concluded Molly had taken Lady Blackwood’s journal? Would he attempt to reclaim it from her or harm her out of vindictive rage? Marco should have taken steps to protect her, but they had believed that it was he, Angelo, and the baron who were at risk. “Where did you last see her?”

Miss Dubois flinched at his curse, but he did not have the patience to deal with her.

“I went to fetch ’er gloves, so she might visit ze garden.”

Without an acknowledgment, he ran from the study. They needed to mount a search immediately. Duncan approached down the hall, en route to answer his earlier summons with the bell, and Marco quickly dispatched the head footman to gather the other servants and set them to search for Miss Carter.

Then, striding into the library, Marco found Angelo reading a book and sipping a cup of coffee, the aroma rich in the cold air. To Marco’s nose, Angelo must have brought some coffee with him from Florence.

“Molly is missing.”

Angelo snapped his book shut, getting to his feet. “What is this?”

“Miss Dubois lost track of her after our meeting this morning and has not seen her since.”

“Then we must search for her.”

“I have sent Duncan to gather the servants. They will search the house, but Miss Dubois informs me that Molly was on her way to the garden when she last saw her.”

“Do you think MacNaby might have returned?”

“Molly only disappears from Miss Dubois for short periods.”

Angelo arched an eyebrow, his curiosity evident about how Marco was aware of Molly’s habits, but he did not comment as they headed out through the terrace doors into the cold without pausing to fetch their overcoats. Marco was not quite ready to discuss his numerous clandestine encounters with the young lady, which would reveal too much. Angelo would know this was unusual behavior for his older brother.

They searched through the gardens but found no sign of Molly until Marco entered the walled garden and saw that a small square of lacy linen had been dropped beneath the stone bench. Hurrying over, he knelt down to retrieve it. It was embroidered with “M” and “C,” and his blood ran cold as he realized Molly might have left it here as a signal.