"Someone has kidnapped Nora's son, and I cannot find Father."
Sarah looked around at Alec. "Who is Nora?"
"Miss Quinton," Alec answered, distractedly. "Father was not at the house?"
"He was not at the house or his club. I was hoping you might know where he is."
"I do not have a clue," Alec replied.
"Jane was to meet me here this afternoon," Sarah said, and Alec looked at her.
"You are inviting guests to a house in which you yourself fail to occupy on a regular basis?"
"Do not start, Alec Black. Of all the people-"
"Excuse me."
Alec's head shot around to the authoritative voice that spoke somewhere in the location of Nathan's shoulder. Eleanora Quinton stood just inside the doorway, her housekeeper's uniform obscured by a worn cloak, her hands held together firmly in front of her.
"I do not mean to interrupt but as it is my son who has gotten himself kidnapped, I would appreciate some agility in the anticipated events of getting my son back. Is that reasonable to assume?"
Alec looked at Sarah who stared at Miss Quinton before looking at Nathan.
"Kidnapped? Are you sure?" Alec asked Nathan, but it was Miss Quinton who replied with a question of her own.
"Do you think us incapable of deciphering a kidnapping when it occurs, my lord?"
He had only had the pleasure of spending one evening in Miss Quinon's company, but her sharp retort should have been expected by him. He would do well to keep her bold manners in mind the next time he thought to ask a ridiculous question.
"What are the circumstances?" this was from his wife, who appeared unfairly fetching with that curious mixture of intrigue and concern on her face.
"Have you been briefed on the result of the attempted Archer assassination?" Nathan said.
Sarah shook her head.
"Attempted? Was it not successful then?"
She looked at Alec for an answer, and her gaze was so intense he forgot she had asked a question.
"Yes, it was not successful," Nathan answered for him. "And I fear we may have brought Miss Quinton into a dangerous situation with our mistake."
"Miss Quinton?" Sarah said then.
Alec stepped forward.
"Sarah, this is Miss Eleanora Quinton, the housekeeper at Gregenden House. Miss Quinton, this is Sarah Black, the Countess of Stryden."
He never ceased to enjoy calling Sarah his countess. He just wished someday that he would mean it.
Sarah bowed her head in Miss Quinton's direction.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Quinton. I just wish it were under different circumstances."
"Likewise, my lady," Miss Quinton bowed in return.
"Did you set a time with Jane for your rendezvous?" Alec asked.
Sarah shook her head. "No, just sometime about noon. She has a meeting at the college this afternoon. Some lecture on phrenology."
Alec raised an eyebrow, but it was Nathan who spoke. "Phrenology?"
Sarah shrugged. "I have no idea what it is, but Jane seemed quite interested. Let us move to the drawing room to discuss this better. Unless you would like to remain standing in the foyer with the cold draft coming through the front door." She raised her own eyebrow in question.
Nathan nodded and took Miss Quinton by the arm, guiding her in the direction of the first floor drawing room.
Alec moved to escort Sarah, but she pulled her arm out of his way and marched off to the drawing room, moving so quickly she passed Miss Quinton and Nathan. Alec followed more slowly.
Nathan looked like he was trying hard not to laugh as Alec caught up to him.
"The thing I did with the door. Brilliant, was it not?"
Alec did not feel so close to laughing. He frowned instead.
"Yes. Bloody brilliant."
CHAPTER NINE
Nora tried not to touch anything. Such finery could be easily spoiled, and she was still wearing her uniform, the uniform she had been wearing to beat out the drapes. She gripped her hands tightly in front of her and prayed to any god she could think of not to ruin anything. She had chosen to stand not quite in and not quite near the first sitting arrangement she had come to as she walked in the door. The fabrics of the furniture were glistening with wealth. Nora could almost see the pounds that it had taken to purchase such finery. The drapes at the windows facing the street were equally as fine in hues of cream and peach, and it suddenly struck Nora that a man could not have chosen such decor. Her gaze traveled the length of the room to where the Countess of Stryden stood, ripping her gloves from her fingers one by one, muffled curses coming from under her breath.
Literally, the woman swore.
Nora knew such language was unbecoming of a lady, but she had sensed a rather strained relationship between the countess and the earl. Having been in the employ of a large household staff for ten years, such tension was visible to her, but such tension also went without comment. It wasn't Nora's place to judge the ones that would provide for her and Samuel.
A sharp pain coursed through her at the thought of her son. Where was he now? Was he safe? Was he warm, fed, anything? Nora thought of Nathan following her into the drawing room with the Earl of Stryden at his side, and an unnameable calm swept over her. Nathan promised her he would find Samuel. And she would hold him to that promise.
Nora was struck once more by the remarkable resemblance between the Earl of Stryden and Nathan. If she had not known they were half brothers, she would soon have been asking questions upon seeing the pair in such close proximity. They had the same chins and cheekbones and straight dark hair that sometimes fell into their faces. But the color of their eyes was markedly different. Nathan's so blue and the Earl of Stryden's a striking green. For the first time, Nora thought of Nathan's mother, wondered whom she might have been. This made her instantly think of the sadness she sometimes saw on Nathan's face, the fleeting awareness that something was not quite in his grasp, and she wondered if that momentary insecurity had something to do with his mother. But then she had recalled him saying something about his mother dying at his birth, about his father taking him in. Did he regret not having known his mother? Surely such a loss at an age when memory was so temporary could not still plague him in such an apparent way?
So what was it that made him restless and unsure?
"So what is the situation as it stands, Nathan?" Lady Stryden asked abruptly.
Nathan gestured to the sofa in the seating arrangement where Nora hovered as if she were to sit, but Nora hesitated. She saw the look of confusion on Nathan's face, but still she did not move. She looked at Lady Stryden.
"Oh, do sit down, please," she said then, making the same gesture toward the seating arrangement.
Nora thought about hesitating again, but a lady had requested that she sit. So she did, pulling in her muddled skirts as best she could in the hopes of not soiling the upholstery of the chair she had chosen.
"You have heard of the miscalculation of the recent assassination attempt?" Nathan asked, taking a seat opposite Nora on the sofa.
Lady Stryden paused as she took her own seat.
"Miscalculation?"
Nathan nodded.
"It appears we have assassinated the wrong man," he said plainly, and Nora wondered how they could speak of the death of a man without so much emotion.
"Oh dear," Lady Stryden said in a tone that left Nora wondering whether or not the countess was being facetious, "What are the next steps then?"
"The War Office wants to lie low for a bit. Let everyone settle back in. We do not want to act hastily and ruin all of the hard work that has been accomplished thus far." This was from Lord Stryden who joined them rather belatedly.
Nora noticed for the first time how his cravat was slightly askew and his collar was just a touch wrinkled. She wanted to call for his valet but soon realized it was not her place.
"I see," Lady Stryden said, "And then someone was kidnapped?"
"Yes," Nathan responded,
but just at that moment, a maid entered with the tea cart.
Without thinking Nora stood and accepted the tea cart from the maid. The young girl looked up startled, and Nora realized what she was doing. Her hands were already on the tea cart, and it stood between them, the object of their missed propriety. But Nora had been serving for ten years, and right then, it was all that she knew was still right with this world.
"May I?" she asked the young maid.
The maid looked over Nora's shoulder, presumably at the lord and lady of the house.
"Nora, you mustn't do that," this was from Nathan, but she ignored him.
"Right now, I must," she said and started to put pressure on the cart to take it from the maid.
"It is all right, Lily," Nora heard Lady Stryden say, and then the cart came free into Nora's hands.
With a task to accomplish, Nora set about serving the tea. She listened to Nathan explain the order of events at the Gregenden ball, poor Frederick being shot instead of his brother Franklin, and the subsequent attempted shooting of Nathan himself. But when circled around to the kidnapping of her son, Nora's focus narrowed. She set out the tea cups and saucers filled precisely with the steaming tea and with a precision the most astute of maids could never hope to muster, she laid out the cream and sugar. While the necessity of the task did not bring her peace, it brought order. And that was enough.
"Why would someone kidnap the son of a housekeeper?" This was from Lady Stryden. "I do beg your pardon, Nora- I may call you Nora?"
Nora had been nothing but Miss Quinton or Mama for ten years, but if a countess wished to call her Nora, Nora she would be.
"Yes, my lady," she said precisely coming to stand by the tea cart, hands folded in front of her.
"If I am to call you Nora, you are to call me Sarah. And do sit down. You are making me nervous with all of your energy. We shall find your son. It is only a matter of time. You mustn't worry so."
The countess finished this long sentence and immediately turned to the earl.
"I would assume Nora will be needing a place to stay. Is there a room available here at the house?" she asked.
Nora was in the process of sitting when she heard this question asked. Surely, she could not ask for residence in the home of an earl. But where else had she to go?
"I was thinking of finding a place for her at Father's," Nathan chimed in.
"A place for who?"
Nora's head along with everyone else's swiveled in the direction of the door as Jane came through it, peeling a ridiculously plumed hat from her head. Nora stood immediately. The countess may have asked her to sit, but when a duchess entered the room, one stood without question. The motion must have caught Jane's attention for the woman looked at her, a flash of concern moving across her features.
"What's happened?" she asked quickly, stopping in the middle of securing a pin in her hair.
Nathan stood as well.
"Samuel has been kidnapped," he said, and even though she had heard that word many times now, it still stung.
"Good Lord," Jane said and came over to Nora. When the duchess embraced her, Nora froze. Her gaze traveled over Jane's shoulder to Nathan's face, and she watched him watching her, a look of concern on his features unlike anything Nora had known before. And then Jane released her, taking only Nora's hands in her own. Nora looked down at the fine gloves Jane wore and wanted to pull her own hands back, but such a gesture would be simply rude. Nora looked at Nathan again, completely unsure as to how to function in this place where she found herself.
"Of course, you shall be staying with us," Jane said, "I'll send a note to the house immediately to have rooms made up. We should also send for Richard. He is meeting with his solicitor, but that can wait." Jane turned directly to Nathan. "Are you still assuming that shot was meant for you and not Nora?"
Nathan shrugged.
"I am not sure what to think any longer."
Jane nodded, squeezed Nora's hands once more and let go.
"Let us have tea and discuss this. Surely we are more intelligent than traitors and Frenchmen. We can figure this out over a cup of tea."
The duchess moved to the tea cart, but Nora reacted instinctively, moving to fill a cup for Jane.
"Goodness, Nora, do you ever stop serving?"
"I beg your pardon?" Nora asked, handing Jane the cup.
Jane simply shook her head.
"Never mind. And sit down. You mustn't be on your feet at a moment like this."
At a moment like that, Nora was getting weary of everyone telling her to sit down.
"Actually, perhaps not."
This came from the countess.
Nora stopped in mid-seat as the countess stood. Jane choked on her tea.
"Whatever for?" the duchess asked when she could breath again.
"We cannot have Nora dressed like that."
The countess pointed at Nora's worn cloak and the visible service gown underneath. For a moment, she wanted to sink entirely through the chair and the floor beneath it, but then the countess spoke.
"Whoever is doing this will be looking for a maid. Therefore, we cannot be seen with a maid. I can surely remedy that."
Never in her life had Nora felt her station more than at that moment and neither had she ever felt like it did not matter in the least. A countess was paying attention to her as if she were a real person and not just a servant.
Stryden asked, "What do you have in mind?"
The countess tilted her head. "What do you think, Jane? Between the two of us I am sure we can find something that will fit her."
Nora instantly looked down at herself. Fit her? Did they expect her to produce a new gown?
"I have no other gowns," she said quickly, "Well, at least not the kind that would convince people I was not a housekeeper."
"Oh, but I do," the countess said with a smirk and moved toward the door of the drawing room.
"Jane, will you be so kind as to assist me?"
Jane set down her cup.
"My darling Sarah, when have you ever had to ask for my assistance when it involves perusing a countess's collection of gowns?"
Jane took Nora's arm.
"Come, Nora. The tea will have to wait." The duchess turned to the men in the room. "Boys, see that a note is sent for your father. We will be busy for the foreseeable future."
And with that, Nora let herself be led from the room.
~
Nathan remained standing long after Sarah and Jane had swept Nora from the room.
"At what moment exactly did we lose control of that conversation?" Alec asked.
Nathan shook his head.
"I am not certain we ever did have control of that conversation."
Alec mumbled something and sat. Nathan felt his legs move but did not really understand that he was moving to sit until he was once again next to Alec. His mind was spinning, moving from one thought to the next before the first one had a chance to complete itself in his brain. He thought of the look on Nora's face when she had learned of Samuel. He thought of the way she had stood resolute when he had returned to remove her from Gregenden House. He thought of the quiet that had descended over her when they had climbed into the hack that had brought them here, to Stryden Place.
What was she thinking right then? What was she feeling? Did she really trust him to find her son?
What if he did not trust himself? What if he failed? Failed Nora? Failed Samuel? Failed all of them?
"I can see why she would keep you up at night," Alec said then, and Nathan's mind spun to a catastrophic halt at the sudden voice.
Nathan nodded, not sure he could articulate the words that were burning in his mind.
"She trusts you, you know?" Alec continued.
There was a glimmer of panic that he would continue on the subject that was most pressing in Nathan's mind, but Alec suddenly fell quiet again.
The pair listened to the ticking of a clock somewhere in the drawing room. The sound of traffic filte
red in from outside, the rattle of carriages and the clipped staccato of hooves.
"I shall have Reynolds send a lad to fetch Father," Alec said then, rising from the sofa.
Nathan still did not move as Alec went to the corner of the room and pulled the braided cord to summon the butler.
Reynolds arrived briskly and just as briskly accepted direction from Alec before retiring from the room. Nathan did not so much as blink as he sat on the sofa staring into the empty grate of the fireplace before him. Alec eventually returned as the sofa dipped with the new weight.
"So how about Webbly?" Alec finally asked.
The question startled Nathan so deeply, he forgot with whom he was speaking.
"Who the hell is Webbly?" Nathan asked.
"Duke of Worcester. Accidentally stabbed himself in a duel with John Langford."
"What was the duel over?"
"Langford insulted Webbly's mother."
"Who is Webbly's mother?" Nathan asked.
"She's now the Countess of Dendrigeshire."
"Dendrigeshire?" Nathan grimaced. "What did Langford say?"
"He said she was a big boned woman."
Nathan turned his head to Alec. "How is that cause for a duel?"
"Langford thought Webbly was his mother."
"Oh, I see."
The silence took over once more, surrounding them like an impenetrable enemy.
"I am sorry, brother, that is all I have at the moment," Alec said then.
Nathan nodded.
"It is all right. Father will be here soon, and he will speak enough for all of us."
The sound of the traffic outside once more flooded the room. Nathan listened to the sound of his brother's breathing as if the cadence would bring calm to his troubled thoughts. His mind kept racing, and Nathan looked about the room, at the forgotten tea, the heavily adorned windows, the intricate carvings in the wood around the fireplace.
"How is your lady wife?" Nathan suddenly asked, and Alec groaned in response.
"That is the subject of which you wish to speak? In this, your hour of most need?"
Nathan shifted on the sofa, so he could better see Alec.
"It is not my hour of need. We will find Samuel. I am just having trouble focusing. That is all."
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