She searched the room as she moved, but Alexander was not hiding in any of the shadows of the space and he was not on the chaise lounge placed on the other side of the room. She moved back to the bed as her stomach tightened in worry.
Why did he leave?
As she turned round to climb into the bed, the loose pleats of her nightgown brushed something off the bedside table. She rushed to pick it up off the floor; it was a note folded over in two.
‘You deserve more apologies than I am able to give you.’
She stared at the note for many minutes, re-reading the words as she tried to make sense of their meaning, yet many interpretations came to her.
Is he apologizing for our evening together? No, it cannot be that. Does he regret it?
Waves of embarrassment threatened to take hold of her chest, but she fought them off. Their evening together had been too special; she could not assume anything without speaking to him first. Yet her doubts plagued her mind.
What if it meant nothing to him? Nothing at all. He said I could trust him in this room. I have to trust that.
She pushed away her doubts, breathing heavily, determined to try to ignore her disappointment. She had wanted to wake at his side, to stay with him a little longer.
She tossed the note onto the dressing table and returned to the bed, trying to clamp down on the feelings that overwhelmed her. She hid under the blankets, hiding her head from the world as she tried to block out thoughts of him.
She had gone to sleep earlier that night, debating the warmth of her affection for him. She had argued with herself that he was not the man she had first thought him to be. He was kinder than that. Yet here she was being challenged again.
Cleopatra was determined not to think of Alexander when she woke but telling herself not to think of him and actually following through with her promise were two very different things.
As a lady’s maid helped her to change, she compared the touch of the satin dress on her skin to the touch of his hand. As the maid attended to her hair, preparing it in a chignon, she compared the feel of it to Alexander’s fingers, running through her locks.
Each time she caught sight of the note on her dressing table, it caused new frustration. In the end, she tossed the note onto the floor, determined not to think of him anymore.
“I apologize,” she shook her head for the maid to see. “Your Master and I have had a little disagreement.” She was determined to lead her day without him, she would not spend every minute thinking of him.
“No need to apologize, My Lady. I understand there are many who argue with the Earl.” The maid, Sophie, allowed a small smirk of amusement.
“So, I understand. He is an argumentative man.” Cleopatra laughed slightly. “Do you know where the Earl is?”
“I believe he left the Manor early this morning, My Lady. I am afraid I do not know where.”
“That’s all right. Today shall be a good day.” She spoke mostly to herself as Sophie attended her. “There is much to do. I must learn my new home.”
Sophie turned to collect some shoes, leaving Cleopatra to stare out of the window at the grounds around the Manor. It was a formal garden, lined with white pebble paths and borders of green hedges. “Would My Lady like to explore the garden? I understand you have not yet had a tour of the estate. It is a very beautiful place.”
“That is a pleasant idea,” she nodded as she turned away, excited by thoughts of exploring such a beautiful place. “I will take John with me.”
“Of course.”
“Tell me, Sophie, and pray, tell me the truth.” She held the young maid’s gaze with sincerity. “Has John caused any trouble through the night and this morning? He is not a bad child in his heart, he just causes mischief for attention.”
The maid appeared distinctly uncomfortable and turned her attention to the shoes in her hand.
“After he broke the vase, Mrs. Webb delivered him to his new room as the Earl instructed. He caused some disturbance in the night.”
“What kind of disturbance?”
“Hitting the door and begging to be free, My Lady, but he must have grown tired.” Sophie offered a gentle smile as she knelt down to help Cleopatra into the heeled pumps that were fastened with a buckle. “He has slept through the night and has not yet risen this morning.”
“I shall take him some breakfast. I apologize for any trouble he has caused. It may take him some time to adjust to his new home.”
“It is to be expected, My Lady. He is still so young.”
Cleopatra nodded; he was very young indeed. If she were to make the most of this marriage for John’s sake then she would take all the advantages Alexander’s wealth had to offer, including finding a governess for John.
There was much to do. She had to meet Mrs. Webb to discuss the running of the household and she had to learn how Larson Manor’s staff worked. If she was to accomplish it all, she had to get moving.
She deemed that her first task of the day would be to seek out a governess. After a walk in the garden with John, she would begin the search for an accomplished governess who could handle John’s mischief.
“This way, My Lady.” Mrs. Webb was carrying the breakfast tray for Cleopatra, despite her wish to be helpful and carry it herself. “We have given him one of the smaller rooms as he is still so young, but I hope you will agree it is a very fine room indeed.”
“I think every room in this Manor is a fine one, Mrs. Webb. I have no concerns on the matter.” She and John were accustomed to a smaller house, after all. She expected John was as amazed by his room as she was by hers.
“Master John?” Mrs. Webb knocked firmly on the door. Her stern manner was still present. When there was no reply, she knocked again. Her brown eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Master John?”
“He is a heavy sleeper,” Cleopatra explained as she went for the door handle. “I once had to tickle him to wake him. We will rouse him for the day, or he will sleep for several more hours.”
She swung the door open and her eyes scanned the space to see an exceptionally fine room dressed in navy and silver. There was a large window that dominated the wall, drawing in the sunlight.
“Come on, Dearest, the sun is up so we must be too.” She turned her attention to the bed and felt her feet fall still beneath her. The bed had not been slept in. The pillows laid plumped and the blankets were still folded perfectly. John would never leave a bed in such a perfect state.
She turned to see Mrs. Webb standing beside her with the same look of wonder in her features.
“You are certain this is the right room, Mrs. Webb?”
“Undoubtedly.” Mrs. Webb looked almost offended at the question, but her confusion took over.
“He has not slept in that bed; I can assure you.” Cleopatra’s head flicked from side to side as she looked for the boy.
“But I left him in here last night. The door has been locked.”
“Could someone else have let him out?”
“I doubt it, My Lady.” Mrs. Webb adjusted her hold on the tray; her discomfort was radiating from her. “Does the boy like to hide?”
“He is one for mischief, certainly.” Cleopatra pulled back the blankets on the bed, despite the evidence he was clearly not there. “Yet I have never known him to do this before.”
“Let us look.”
“John?” Cleopatra snapped her head around, searching the small space. Mrs. Webb placed the breakfast tray on a table and began to look under the bed and in the wardrobes. Cleopatra checked the privy and behind the curtains, but the boy was nowhere to be found. “You have not seen him this morning?”
“No, My Lady.”
“He has not been seen anywhere throughout the Manor?”
“No.”
“What of the garden?” Cleopatra moved back to the window, but she could see no one in the garden, nor any sign of a miscreant having run through and caused destruction in his wake. After the vase event, it would not have surprised her t
o see the flowers pulled out from the beds had he been there.
“No, My Lady. The gardener, Thomas, would have surely told me if he had been outside.”
“Then, where is he?”
Mrs. Webb joined her at the window; her brows still pinned together.
“I think we must perform a search of the whole Manor and grounds.”
Alexander was not in the Manor either. Yet the footman informed Cleopatra and Mrs. Webb that he had seen him leave in the early hours of the morning, certainly not with the boy in tow, so he certainly had nothing to do with John’s disappearance.
The whole staff gathered for the search, but there was not a space that Cleopatra did not check herself. It occurred to her that in such a cavernous Manor, John might find any number of hiding spaces to spend the night, just to cause mischief.
She spent many minutes in each room. Checking under furniture, in cupboards, beneath desks and behind curtains, but he was not there. She checked the two parlors, the drawing room, the dining room, the great hall, then each bedchamber, including all the guest rooms and any other privy she could find.
When she came to the west wing, Mrs. Webb urged her feet outside.
“I have not yet checked the west wing.”
“I have, My Lady, he is not there.” Mrs. Webb directed her steps back down the stairs, yet Cleopatra’s gaze lingered behind.
She had felt most certainly steered away from the west wing. As though there was something there Mrs. Webb had not wanted her to find.
Cleopatra spent over an hour in the formal garden. She wandered the pebble paths three times each. She searched every tall tree for signs of having been climbed and delved into hedges to see if the boy had hidden beneath them, but there was no sign.
Despite being accompanied by the gardener, Thomas, Mrs. Webb and a footman, she still checked every spot she could find herself in the garden. Including the summer house and an orangery, yet it was fruitless.
“My Lady, you are positively exhausted.” Mrs. Webb had gently taken her arm and was steering her back toward the Manor. Cleopatra had sprinted up and down the garden so many times that she was struggling to breathe in her corset and her cheeks were bright red.
“Where is he? He cannot be gone! This cannot be happening.” Her first instinct that morning had been one of suspicion and anger, certain that the boy was up to mischief. Now, all she felt was fear.
How can he be gone? This is not possible!
“Please, My Lady. You must rest or you will make yourself ill. Come into the Manor for some refreshment. That will make you feel better.”
Cleopatra was barely listening, but she allowed Mrs. Webb to lead her inside where maids were gathered having searched the guest chambers again.
“Any sign?”
“No, My Lady.” Sophie shook her head, her face a picture of sorrow.
“Sophie, please be so kind as to organize tea for Lady Larson in the drawing room.”
“Of course.” As Sophie disappeared with other maids following, Cleopatra’s eyes turned up the stairs again, drawing toward the west wing.
Why would Mrs. Webb not let me search that wing myself?
“This way, My Lady. We shall go to the drawing room for some rest.” Mrs. Webb walked away from her, but Cleopatra did not follow. She kept her eyes up the stairs. “My Lady?”
Cleopatra flicked her head back toward her.
“I wish to search the west wing.”
“We have already searched it, My Lady.” Mrs. Webb shrugged, apparently attempting a nonchalant tone that did not suit her.
“I do believe you are hiding something from me.”
“What nonsense, please come and rest My Lady, I am nervous you will make yourself unwell.” Mrs. Webb tried to walk away again, yet Cleopatra directed her steps to the stairs.
“No! My Lady?” Mrs. Webb’s suddenly stern tone took her by her surprise, what was even more alarming was the way Mrs. Webb ran a few steps ahead of her and blocked her path. “You cannot go to the west wing.”
“Why ever not, Mrs. Webb? Am I not the Lady of this Manor? If it is my Manor, then I can go wherever I please. I have searched every part of this Manor looking for my brother. The west wing is the one place I have not gone. I will not let you stop me.”
“It is the Earl’s orders, My Lady. You cannot go to the west wing.”
“What rubbish. I am going to the west wing and you cannot stop me.”
“What on earth is happening here?” A dark voice broke through their argument from the doorway.
Both Cleopatra and Mrs. Webb turned to see Alexander standing in the doorway. He removed his top hat and passed it to the footman as he returned from wherever he had spent his morning.
“I am going to the west wing. That is what is happening.” To Cleopatra’s sharp voice, Alexander’s face changed to austerity.
“No, you are not.”
Chapter Eighteen
“I am.” Cleopatra reaffirmed and walked past Mrs. Webb, hurrying up the stairs to the west wing. Behind her, she heard the rushing steps of Alexander.
“What is happening?”
“John has gone missing, My Lord,” Mrs. Webb explained. Her steps joined Alexander’s behind Cleopatra as she marched up the stairs.
“He is not in the Manor?”
“The last place to search is the west wing.” Cleopatra directed her feet toward the door she had been barred from entering. When the door came within sight, Alexander stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop walking. “Alexander, it is the last place to search. You cannot expect me to abandon my search for my own brother just because you do not wish me to see a room in this Manor.”
“Mrs. Webb, have you searched the west wing?” Alexander did not reply directly to Cleopatra, urging her to raise her chin a little higher as her anger grew.
“Yes, My Lord. He is not there.”
“See, Cleopatra? You have your answer. He is not there.” Alexander’s voice was pleading, almost begging her to believe him.
“I wish to see for myself,” Cleopatra folded her arms, determined not to relent. She looked away from Alexander’s gray-blue eyes and trained her gaze back on the door. She was trying to persuade her mind not to consider the evening they had spent together, but the sight of his eyes was reminding her of what they had shared.
“That I cannot allow.” Alexander took her elbow, forcing her to release her folded arms. It was gentle, as he delicately steered her away from the west wing.
“Why on earth not?” Cleopatra was bewildered. She kept trying to look around him, to look back past his shoulder to the doorway leading to the west wing chambers.
“That I cannot tell you. I give you my word, I will go and search the west wing myself to be sure. This very moment I will go.” Alexander quickly drew her back toward her own room, only releasing her elbow once the door to the west wing had vanished from sight. “Please, stay here while I check.” He turned to leave her.
“Why can I not look myself?” she pleaded, urging him to turn back to her, finding his gray-blue gaze again. “Why must you keep telling me lies?”
“It is not a lie. It is a secret. One that I have to keep. Respect that,” he turned away again, hurrying back to the west wing.
Cleopatra waited until he had disappeared down the corridor with Mrs. Webb on his tail, then she followed, and hovered by the curve in the corridor just before the door to the west wing. She peered around the wall to see Alexander unlocking the door. He slipped inside with Mrs. Webb following behind.
As the door closed, Cleopatra crept down the hallway on her tiptoes, lifting her petticoats around her ankles as she tried to avoid making a sound. When she reached the door, she pressed her ear to the gap between the door and the frame but could only hear muffled whispers and murmurs.
She backed away from the door, but before she could escape down the corridor, it opened again, and Alexander stepped out. Seeing her before him, his eyes widened.
“You never do fo
llow orders.”
“I never will,” Cleopatra defied as she raised her chin again. “You are not my master.”
“Just your husband,” Alexander acknowledged with a nod. The use of the word made Cleopatra’s stomach coil in tension as she considered again what they had shared the evening before. The thought of the two of them entwined above the bed was tormenting. “He is not there, Cleopatra.”
The confirmation that John was truly gone tore a hole in her chest. She turned away from Alexander and placed a hand to her stomach.
In Temptation and Damnation with the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 14
