by Ava Rose
Pen was about to look for Anna to confirm his suggestion when a hand grasped his sleeve. He turned to find the very person he was seeking, worry etched on every fine contour of her face.
“What is the matter?” he quickly asked.
She pulled him aside, into an alcove. “Libby is not in her room. I have searched everywhere on the second floor to no avail.”
Something stirred in his chest, something quite like fear.
“We’ll find her,” he said firmly. “I trust you don’t mind, but I’ve sent the guests back to the ballroom to wait out the worst of this weather.”
“Not at all,” she confirmed. “I should have thought of that myself. I was so focused on looking for Libby…”
Anna appeared calm, but from the set of her mouth and the straightness of her back, he knew there must be worry stirring within her.
“Would you like me to arrange a small search party? I can liaise with your butler. Webb, isn’t it?”
“Yes, certainly Webb can assist. But, should we both attend the ballroom first, so as not to arouse curiosity?”
Anna’s suggestion was a sound one. He hadn’t thought to keep things hushed until she mentioned it. Now that she had, concern for his sister’s welfare grew. Where the devil had Libby disappeared to?
The ballroom was surprisingly calm. The duchess’s staff had managed to light the various sconces and there was a pleasant glow permeating the space. As though they could sense that something was amiss, the guests’ attention turned to Anna when she stepped up to address them.
“This storm certainly is playing with us this night, is it not?” Despite the situation, her joking manner did the trick, defusing tension. They all laughed.
“Prince Penforth is right to suggest you stay. It is not safe for the carriages and horses, and certainly not any of you out there. Please make yourselves comfortable. I have three drawing rooms and a salon at your disposal, and I will have tea and further refreshments brought in shortly.”
Some murmured their thanks while others complained. One could never please everyone, Pen mused, even though their host’s generosity could not be faulted.
Anna disappeared then, and he lingered in the ballroom for a short stint before following behind. He found her in the kitchen, speaking to the housekeeper and making arrangements for the guests.
Her efficiency was admirable. Within minutes, she had arrangements under control; the previously panicked guests were placated by the promise of food and comfort, and a quiet search for Libby was already underway.
Between Anna, Webb, and himself, they made a surreptitious but thorough sweep of the ground and upper floors. There was no sign of his sister. With every minute that passed, his fear grew. She couldn’t have left the house in a storm such as the one now raging outside…she was not that insensible. The only explanation he could think of was that she had been removed against her will.
Kidnapping. His stomach lurched at the thought.
They went back upstairs to her rooms. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the longer Pen stood in the middle of the bedchamber and observed, the more he realized that the space looked as if it had been left in haste. The dress Libby had been wearing at the ball was thrown haphazardly on the bed, her jewelry box open with a string of pearls dangling over the edge, and her silver hairbrush was on the floor by the foot of the vanity table.
Yes, she could very well have left the room in that state in her hurry to rejoin the party, but she was not at the party now. So where in the devil was she?
Her draped cloak on the chest at the foot of the large mahogany four-poster bed stood out. If Libby had indeed left the house voluntarily, she would have surely taken her cloak with her. There was always the possibility that she had taken a different cloak, perhaps one of Anna’s, although that seemed unlikely.
“How long ago did she retire to change?” he asked Anna.
“Just after ten.”
He cursed, mostly under his breath, disregarding Anna’s presence and sensibilities.
Pen moved to the window, his shoes making a squishy sound when he stepped on the carpet near the window. It was soaking wet. The windowsill was also wet, as was the nearby escritoire and the items atop it.
“Was this window closed when you first came in?”
“No, I closed it.” Anna moved to sit on the bed. “It was already windy when she came up. She wouldn’t leave the window open knowing it was about to rain.” The sound of thunder crashing made her wince. “This is all my fault, Pen. I should have been paying closer attention.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Anna. We are not sure yet what has happened, or why.”
She shook her head. “No, I disagree. I think we do know what has happened.” Her blue eyes met his. “Someone took her, and from my home, no less. There’s no other explanation that fits.”
Pen did not want to think. He only wanted to act, to find his sister and bring her back to safety.
“We’ll find her,” he vowed. “I’ll go and search my house. I am not sure it will be helpful, but I have to start somewhere and it is always possible she chose to leave early, prior to the storm, and head home to bed.”
Anna stood. “I’ll come with—”
His hands shot out to stop her. “It’s past midnight and there is a storm. You are not going anywhere.”
“But—”
“No.” His tone brokered no argument and she clamped her mouth shut. “Stay here and make sure no one finds out what is going on. Libby’s reputation is at stake already.”
“I know that,” she replied with an edge to her voice.
Pen turned and headed for the door. “Keep everything in this room as it is,” he called over his shoulder.
“And if she’s not at home?”
He paused on the way out. “If she is neither here, nor there, then I see no alternative but to contact the police department.”
CHAPTER THREE
When Anna awoke in the morning with a cramp in her neck from sleeping awkwardly in a chair, she wished last night’s events had all been a dream. The guests had finally left well after one and Anna had sat in the drawing room, feeling at a loss and trying to come to grips with what might have happened until five when sleep stole in.
She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. Seven o’clock. She scrambled to her feet and ran upstairs, calling for her lady’s maid as she went.
“Eva, help me get dressed, quickly,” she said when her maid entered. She tugged impatiently at the laces of her corset.
Once her clothing and undergarments were out of the way, she splashed some water on her face and cleaned herself before being cinched into a new corset and stepping into a midnight blue velvet dress. She then pulled on her sturdiest boots. It was cold outside and Anna had no intention of sitting around waiting for someone else to do something.
“You’re not going to eat anything, my lady?” Eva asked when Anna threw on her cloak and made for the massive oak front door.
“No, I have urgent business.”
The walk to the Armstrong-Leeds house seemed to take forever despite the short distance and Anna's quick steps. The streets were littered with leaves and debris from last night's winds, and a thick fog swirled all around her, clouding visibility. If one were in mourning, the gloom of the day would weigh heavily. Anna was no longer in mourning for her father, who had passed more than three years earlier, but the gloom still got to her, too.
Her friend was missing and there were no leads to follow.
I will find you, Libby. She was determined on that point. If the reverse were the case, she knew Libby would not rest until Anna was found and the perpetrators brought to justice.
She couldn't begin to fathom a life without her friend. In fact, Libby was not just a friend; not having any siblings of her own, Anna saw a sister in the other woman. They shared everything, from their world views about everyone’s right to vote, to a pact to remain spinsters for the rest of their lives u
nless the right man swept in to claim their heart with true love.
Sensible men were not thick on the ground these days and hardly any gentlemen of their acquaintance would willingly support a woman who advocated for truth and equality. The two friends had decided they would rather die as unmarried curmudgeons than live with men who would stifle them.
No, Anna would not let go of this. She would fight to find her friend.
As she reached the marble steps of the Armstrong-Leeds home, a Boston Police Department carriage rolled to a halt in front. Her heart jumped. That meant Pen had not yet found his sister.
An officer alighted. She didn't know him, but he seemed to recognize her, for he addressed her correctly. It was little surprise, since she was famous for her radical politics and her face had graced many a newspaper—not always favorably. The officer gave his name as Adam Graves.
"Are you here at Prince Penforth's request, Mr. Graves?"
He lifted the brass knocker on the enormous mahogany portal and released it.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Antoine, the family’s silver-haired butler, showed them inside and Anna immediately asked whether Libby's mother, Christiana, and her sister Mary, were up to receiving visitors.
"They have not yet emerged from their chambers, Your Grace," Antoine replied, eyeing Mr. Graves who was inspecting the scrollwork on the foyer ceiling. Was he admiring it? Anna was unsure.
"Where is Penforth?"
"In his study." He turned to Mr. Graves. "His Royal Highness is expecting you. Please wait here." He turned back to Anna and bowed. "Please follow me, my lady."
She followed him to Pen's study, one of the few parts of the house she'd never seen. Pen sat behind a large oak desk surrounded by piles of paper and unopened missives.
"Duchess Wrexford is here for you, sir," Antoine announced, unnecessarily given Anna was right on his heels. “As is the police officer you requested. He waits in the entry.”
Pen rose slowly from his chair and gave the butler a nod of dismissal. He looked like he'd not slept a wink, but was dressed impeccably in gray trousers, a black morning coat, and a matching vest. His hair, however, was in great contrast to the rest of him; disheveled, as though he'd raked his fingers through the dark silken locks too many times.
His mouth was set in a grim line and his dark eyes assessed her from the top of her upswept hair down to the hem of her dress.
Anna felt a shiver run through her, accompanied by the sense of being trapped, with the study's dark setting further pricking her nerves. The deep brown curtains were drawn together so that only a sliver of the already gloomy light filtered into the room.
"This lighting can’t be good for your eyes," she jested, to gain some fortitude against his effect on her.
"Good morning to you, too." He moved toward the study door and pushed it mostly shut, leaving it open just a crack, for propriety she guessed. "What are you doing here?"
Anna rolled her eyes. This man's sense of humor traveled the path of non-existence.
"Are you seriously asking me that?" she said, swallowing hard as he came to stand before her. He towered over her.
"Yes."
Resisting the urge to take a retreating step, she met his gaze. "I am here to help with the investigation."
Pen did not respond at first. He only pierced her soul with his shadowy gaze, and the effects were paralyzing, for Anna found herself unable to move; unable to break the magnetic aura that gripped her. Finally, he spoke. "No."
She blinked, unsure what he'd just said.
"What?"
"I said no. Meaning you will not be involved in any investigation." He inched closer.
Anna took a step back. "If you're trying to intimidate me, it's not working."
A mocking smile tilted one corner of his mouth. "Yes? Then why are you retreating?"
"I am not." She jutted her chin in an attempt at defiance. "In case you haven't noticed, I like my personal space boundaries respected."
"Go home, Anna."
He turned swiftly and strode back to his desk. There was a hitch in his step. His limp was hardly noticeable on most days, but it appeared as though his injured leg was not being kind to him today. She wanted to ask if there was anything she could do to ease his pain but restrained herself. Pen was cynical enough to misinterpret her concern as either pity or mockery, with the latter being more probable.
She placed her hands on her hips. "I am not going anywhere." She held up her hand and silenced him when he began to speak. "And spare me your nonsense about an investigation being no place for a woman, Penforth."
He quirked a sardonic brow. "Then I shall simply carry you, stuff you in a carriage, and have it take you home. And if you try to come back, I will do it all over again."
A small laugh of outrage escaped her throat. "You wouldn't dare."
He stepped forward, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "Oh, I will."
Would he? Pen was not a man to be trifled with. If he said he would do something, likely he would do it.
"This is not fair. Libby is my friend." Her voice reflected her exasperation.
"Anna," he said on a sigh. "Mr. Graves is waiting. I do not like to keep people waiting."
"Go see him. I will stay here," she insisted, folding her arms across her chest.
Ostensibly realizing the futility of arguing further with her, Pen left the room. Anna smiled. There was still some hope of convincing him to allow her to help.
She took advantage of her time alone in his study to have a good look at where he spent a substantial part of his day. Darker shades of brown dominated the room, from the wood paneling to the parquet floor. And the olive-green upholstery of the twin wingback chairs facing the dark marble fireplace set just the right tone, declaring the place a man's territory.
Anna fingered the sails of the miniature ship on the desk, wondering if he missed the sea. She rather thought he did.
Moving to the enormous bookcase that occupied most of the wall on the left side of the study, she traced the leather-bound volumes before picking out one with no name on the spine. She was about to open it when the door swung open and Pen walked in.
Anna dropped the book. He gave her a bemused look before picking up a paper from the desk.
“You’re still here?”
"I-I was just examining your shelf," she said self-consciously.
"Well, you're not going to find any of my dark secrets there. Come." He waved for her to follow him.
"You have dark secrets?" Her boots clicked rapidly on the floor as she tried to keep pace with him.
"Everyone has dark secrets, Anna."
She frowned. "I don't."
He glanced askance at her. "Of course not. I don't suppose you do."
Anna blinked in surprise. Was that an attempt at humor?
He led her up the stairs and down the hallway before stopping in front of Christiana's chambers.
She looked up at him, confused. "What are we doing here? I thought you were going to allow me to speak with Mr. Graves."
Pen's hand stilled on the door handle and he turned his impenetrable eyes at her. "Mr. Graves has already left. He has all the information he needs to begin a proper investigation." He paused. "Mother could use your company," he added after a moment.
"Oh, so you've decided on my usefulness, hmm?"
"Must you turn everything into an argument, Anna?"
"Yes. Yes, I must." She folded her arms.
He sighed. "Anna, my mother is rather distraught."
"And you've decided I am the best person to console her? Libby disappeared in my house, under my watch. I am only going to add to her distress.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I can’t do this, Pen. I care about your mother and would love to give her some comfort, but I can’t under these circumstances.”
“All right,” Pen said, running his fingers through his hair. “You may be correct. Come, I’ll arrange a carriage to get you home.”
Anna closed her eyes, feeling conflicted. This was hard. On one hand, she wanted to be there for Christiana; on the other, she could very well make matters worse. There was only one way to find out.
“No, I’ll do it,” she said quietly.
He opened the door and Anna tentatively walked in ahead of him. Christiana was in the sitting area adjoining the bedroom, still in her night clothes. She gave Anna a wan smile.
Anna didn’t quite know what to say as she sat beside the older woman. She looked to Pen for help but he gave her nothing.
“Christiana…I…I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s all right, Anna. We’re all shaken up by this.”
“We’ll find her, I promise.” She gave the older woman’s hand a small reassuring squeeze.
“Her reputation is ruined.” Christiana’s mouth twisted in a grimace.
Anna was again lost for words. How did one console a mother whose unwed daughter had possibly been kidnapped?
“Have you spoken to the police?” she asked Pen.
“Yes, Mother, and an investigation has begun. A thorough search of both houses will be carried out.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “What good will that do? They should be searching the city.”
“They will do that, too. And there may be clues at Wrexford House, or here, that lead us to Libby.”
Christiana dabbed at her eyes with an embroidered lace handkerchief and sniffed. “You’ll stay a bit longer?” She directed the question to Anna.
Anna’s heart twisted in her chest. “Of course, I will.” At least there was something she could do right now.
***
Mr. Graves returned with his deputy to search the house an hour later and Pen refused to allow Anna to even be in the same room as the search party, claiming she might get in the way. The search yielded nothing, just as Anna had suspected it might. If anything were to be found, it would likely be at her own home, where Libby had been staying.
She refused Pen’s offer of a carriage, preferring to travel the short distance on foot. He insisted on accompanying her. “You can’t keep me from the search in my house,” she challenged as they walked back to Wrexford House.
