by Ava Rose
“Granted, I can’t, but it doesn’t change my decision.”
If he would not allow her to take part in his investigation, she would start one herself. Whoever found Libby first…
She pulled herself up in her thoughts. It didn’t matter who found her friend first. This was not a competition.
When they reached home and entered the guest suite Libby had occupied, everything was as they’d left it the night before. Everything, except the window.
The window was wide open.
CHAPTER FOUR
Pen heard Anna's sharp intake of breath. "Oh, no."
"What is it?" he asked. "Why is the window open?"
"The staff must have opened it to air the room."
"Good Lord, Anna!" He swore, almost under his breath. "Why would you allow them to do that?"
"I didn't," she returned. "I left instructions before leaving home this morning."
He clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would shatter from the force. This was one of the reasons he'd wanted her to remain here; so that nothing was tampered with.
"I asked you to stay home, Anna."
Her blue eyes flashed with something like anger. "Are you blaming me for this, Penforth?"
"Yes."
Someone cleared their throat from down the hall. Pen turned to see Anna’s butler Webb leading Mr. Graves and his deputy toward them. He would have to deal with Anna at a later time.
As though she could guess what he was thinking, she brushed past him and the detectives, and disappeared downstairs.
"Shall we, Your Highness?" Mr. Graves asked, pulling a small notebook and a pencil from his coat pocket.
Pen gave him a nod and the police officers entered and looked around. The result was much like that of his own house. Nothing was found to point in any direction whatsoever.
"We've got nothing, sir. No signs of anyone breaking in, no signs of a struggle either." Mr. Graves shrugged. "It looks like the room was left in a hurry. We don't have anything to go on, here. Are you sure the young lady in question didn’t simply…"
“I’m sure,” Pen said through gritted teeth. “My sister would never disappear like this without explanation.”
The policeman nodded. “Quite right, sir. Quite right.”
“You need to search the city. I have given you a portrait for reference. That should be enough for you to start.” Pen towered over Graves, deliberately using his height and large frame to intimidate.
The police officer swallowed nervously. "Yes. Yes, of course. We will get started on that immediately, sir."
Pen stood in the room long after they'd left, taking deep even breaths to tamp down his rising choler. He was angry with the police, angry with Anna, but most of all, he was angry with himself. He'd failed in many things, but he did not want to fail in protecting his sister.
Yet, it would appear that he had.
"Webb was the one who opened the window," Anna said softly behind him.
He didn't turn. Neither did he show any indication of hearing her.
"The room was starting to smell from the drenched carpet. He didn't think opening the window would affect the investigation.”
Her pause could only mean that she was waiting for him to respond.
When he did not, she said, "Blame me all you want, but leave Webb out of it."
He had no intention of confronting her butler for tampering with the room.
"Did they find anything of note?" she asked.
"No," he finally answered.
"So, what is the next step?"
He turned to face her then, taking slow predatory steps toward her. "The next step for you is to stay out of this."
She jutted her chin out. "You've said as much. Many times. The thing is, no one knows Libby as I do. You're going to need me."
"I don't think so."
He knew he was not being fair, but he didn't know how to behave any other way. Without meeting her gaze or saying anything more, he walked past her and out of the house.
***
Anna was no fool. If Penforth wanted to carry out his investigation alone, that was his problem. But she couldn't sit at home and do nothing.
Tears heated the back of her eyes and she tried, furiously, to blink them away.
She'd failed Libby.
Yes, her friend was a woman grown, but she still needed protection.
Anna lowered herself onto the bed, her heart leaden with loss, guilt, regret, and self-derision. She wished her mother was home. She would know what to do.
What would her mother do?
"Sitting here, hating yourself and hating Penforth won't get you anywhere," she would say.
Anna sat up and looked about. She'd been kept out when the room was being searched but she could tell the police had not been thorough because it looked as though nothing had been disturbed. They obviously didn’t really believe Libby was taken and must have only conducted a cursory search of the space.
Starting with the drawer by the side of the bed, Anna began to go through every item. She found a stack of letters tied together with a pink velvet ribbon.
Forgive me, Libby, but I have to read these to find you.
After more than an hour of reading, Anna realized most of them seemed to be nothing more than correspondences with distant relatives, friends, and pen friends; giving no clue. She put the letters away and began to look through clothing, dress pockets, the chest at the foot of the bed, and even under the bed. Still nothing.
She was tumbling the pillows when she found a small brown leather book beneath the pile; a journal of some sort. She sat on the bed and began to read, noting nothing of consequence until she reached the last entry which included a date and a location.
Tomorrow’s date.
“Eureka!” Anna jumped up in triumph.
She had to find the place indicated in the journal, and she had to find it on the morrow.
This was their first real clue, and she hoped it would lead to something tangible. She might even manage to find her friend and bring her home before anyone outside the family realized she’d been gone.
***
The following day
Pen was going to need Anna’s help. It would take a lot to put aside his pride and go to her, but there was no other way. He had spent most of the night stalking the fog-covered streets, speaking to anyone he came across; even looking at posters of crimes on the notice boards in the hopes of finding something that would lead him to Libby. He found nothing.
This incident had made him realize how little he knew his sister. But Anna had been right. She knew her better than anyone.
He tossed back the last of his brandy and set the snifter down, then picked up his greatcoat from the back of the wingback chair by the hearth and his hat from the nearby side table. He moved quietly through the still-dark house. His mother had remained in her room yesterday, and although it was almost seven in the morning, he did not expect she would come out today either. Mary had no inkling of what was happening. She presumed their mother was merely unwell.
When Antoine opened the front door for him, he wondered briefly what the man thought. He was uncertain whether the rest of the servants were aware of his sister’s absence, but Antoine knew, and Pen was grateful the butler wasn’t one to talk. Gossip traveled faster than trains, and if word got out, the scandal they would be facing could crush their family. Not only would Libby’s reputation be ruined, but Mary could kiss goodbye any hopes of a successful debut season. Pen would do everything in his power to secure as much discretion as he could.
The Wrexford butler showed him to the same salon he’d retreated to on the night of the soirée. That night now felt like many moons ago. A portrait of Anna and her parents called out to him and he walked forward to take a closer look. She was much younger, a teen. And while her mother sat primly, focusing on the painter, Anna's attention appeared to be somewhere else; as if she was impatient, ready to take flight and head off on some grand adventure.
<
br /> He wondered what it was like for her to grow up without any siblings; wondered if she had been lonely and sought Libby to fill the emptiness. He could relate to that loneliness. It had become his constant friend. Where her loneliness was likely a companion dressed in pretty colors and sophistication, his was a dark, cold shadow that had covered him and stayed his mind from letting in even the tiniest finger of light. It had become so much a part of his psyche that its presence had even kept him sane at sea when a storm would sporadically wash in and claim some of his men. It was the secret voice that heartened him to fire the cannon at the enemy ship.
Anna wanted to replace her loneliness with his sister. He was disinclined to let go of his. There was a strange solace in its embrace.
He knew when Anna arrived and lingered at the door before entering. He felt her presence keenly.
When he turned to greet her, he was arrested by a sight he'd not quite been prepared for. The blue of her eyes was as magnetic as the sea and her apparent lack of sleep did not dull the color at all.
They were just eyes, he told himself. But his regard moved from her eyes to the rest of her; while her deep red dress accentuated her artless sensuality, it was her poise that moved him the most.
He could understand why society courted her attention despite her notoriety. Her very presence was commanding. She was magnificent.
"Good morning." He bowed stiffly.
"Good morning, Your Highness," she returned coldly.
Your Highness? What had he been expecting? He'd been a cad the previous day.
She moved to a powder-blue damask chair and lowered her frame into it, her expectant gaze leveling with his.
"Are you going to tell me why you’re here or are you going to continue staring?"
Anna appeared to be expecting an apology. Should he apologize? He supposed he should if he wanted her cooperation.
"I want to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. It was most unfair of me."
She released a breath and slightly looked away. "You apologize now because you seek my help." She turned back and speared him with a pointed stare. "You would never stoop, otherwise."
It was true.
A small sly smile curved her pretty mouth. "I told you."
"Please, don't gloat."
"I don't see why I shouldn't."
"Anna, I didn't come here to argue. I've not slept in two days—"
"Neither have I—" she began to interrupt and he held up a hand.
"Will you just help me?"
She pursed her lips and allowed the moment to draw out. A part of him knew she would do this, milk her moment of triumph for all it was worth. Finally, she said, "I would rather not."
Jesus Christ!
"You're punishing me, aren't you?" he accused.
An insouciant shrug moved her shoulder. “No, I am not. I simply think you will be rather difficult to work with. I would rather not work with you. But I will.”
He combed a hand through his hair in aggravation. He was already exhausted, and she was further draining him.
She released a sigh. "I made a discovery last night." She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a small brown leather book. "There's a date and an address written here."
She showed him, and sure enough, there was an entry made the day before Libby disappeared, but he was lost as to its significance.
“I think Libby was planning to meet someone at this location today. I found something else, too.” She flipped the pages to the very back of the book before handing it to him.
October 16th, 1891
I don’t get flutters and I am most certainly not in possession of the proclivity to succumb to the male charm, but Sir Anthony’s letters are beginning to stir feelings inside of me. Perhaps I should respond to see where this could lead us.
Pen looked sharply at Anna after reading. “She was in correspondence with an admirer? That seems…out of character.”
Libby did not respond to admirers. If anything, she was positively annoyed by them. He’d long given up trying to marry her off. There was something far greater happening here. He frowned.
“Yes,” Anna replied. “I did find a stack of letters last night and went through about half of them, but found nothing from any admirer. If we go back and check the rest, we might find the alluded correspondence.”
Pen chuckled darkly. Anna had found the clues when everyone else had missed them. He’d all but underestimated her.
“Lead the way,” he said.
A fine eyebrow shot up but she did not say anything. He followed her to Libby’s room, the sway of her body undoing his concentrated effort to not be affected by her. The relief that engulfed him when she divided the letters into two and gave him half to go through brought about the realization of how tightly wound he’d been; this was a welcome distraction.
“Here,” she announced after what seemed like hours.
Pen looked up at Anna’s glittering eyes. She’d found the right letter by the look of it, earning yet another point. Not that this was a competition or anything. He collected the letter and read it.
September 4th, 1891
My dear Lady Elizabeth,
My journey through the West has been most educating, but at the same time, it has awakened a yearning to share such outstanding experiences with a kindred spirit. Someone with equal inclinations to explore the world and see it for its true possibilities.
My dearest, Libby, forgive my directness, but you have set a fire I cannot seem to quench. I want to journey the world with you and advocate by your side if you will have me.
I am returning to Boston soon and although I would love more than anything to call upon you at home, I fear the sort of welcome I may receive from your brother. It would mean the world to me if you could meet me at The Blue Hunter in Cambridge on October 18th.
I shall wait for you there all day.
Yours truly,
Sir Anthony Hart
They found several other letters and read them. Libby and this Sir Anthony Hart had begun their correspondence as pen-friends and advanced beyond that. She was meant to meet him today.
Until they could prove otherwise, he was their prime suspect.
“I need to send a messenger to fetch Mr. Graves now,” Pen stated.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mr. Graves arrived at Wrexford House quicker than Anna had anticipated and this time he came alone. Pen had him sit down and read all the letters Sir Anthony had sent Libby. Anna trusted her intuition and it had never failed her; it convinced her now that Sir Anthony was responsible for Libby’s disappearance. Pen seemed to believe the same.
After reading those missives, however, Mr. Graves’ reaction was not what Anna was expecting. “Sir,” he began, “We appear to have an elopement on our hands.”
Pen’s expression quickly turned stormy. “What?”
“These letters are from a lover and he has asked to meet with her ladyship—”
“Yes, but she disappeared before the set meeting date.”
Mr. Graves shook his head. “I am sorry, sir, but this looks very much like an elopement. I am afraid there is nothing more we can do.”
Pen took a step toward Mr. Graves and Anna watched as the officer jumped up and retreated, his eyes widening. Anyone would cower if they had a man like Pen advancing on them like that.
“There is nothing you can do?” He spoke slowly, each word an obvious threat.
The officer’s eyes darted around the room as though he was looking for an escape route. Unfortunately, Pen had backed him into a wall, flanked by two enormous bookcases.
“I know it is very hard to receive such news, but it is the truth. Your sister has eloped.” The officer’s voice almost squeaked.
Oh, that was the wrong thing to say, Anna thought as she braced herself for Pen’s reaction. Before her next thought had any chance to materialize, Pen had grabbed Mr. Graves by the collar.
“You are useless,” he snarled, then dragged him across the
room and threw him out the door. “Get out!”
Anna almost felt sorry for the man…almost. How dare he insinuate an elopement? Her friend would never agree to such a thing. Never.
She unclenched her teeth and let out a breath. Since the police did not believe Libby to be abducted, there was only one thing to do.
“I am going to Cambridge to find this person,” she said.
“And I am coming with you.”
She couldn’t argue with him now, and as much as she believed herself to be a brave woman, she had to admit the thought of being accompanied by Pen created a level of comfort and security. Besides, he had a right to be there for his sister.
“My lady.” Anna turned her head toward the salon doors to find Webb. He bowed and said, “Miss Harper is here for you.”
"Now? What on earth is she doing here?" she asked. "It is early for visitors."
"Shall I tell her you are unavailable? Indisposed, perhaps?" Webb asked.
"That would be goo—"
"We will see her," Penforth interjected, his tone and his eyes deterring any dissent that might have come from Anna.
A confused Webb looked from his employer to the powerful man dominating the room, uncertain whose orders to follow. Anna simplified the choice for him, not out of concession, but out of propriety. She would not be seen arguing with Penforth by the servants. Not even one who had known her since childhood.
She inclined her head toward Webb. “See that she’s settled in the drawing room,” she instructed calmly, despite the ire rising within. “I’ll be with her shortly.”
No sooner had the butler departed than she turned her displeasure toward Pen. “You can’t come to my house and act like it’s yours.”
His eyes narrowed. “Miss Harper is your friend, is she not?”
“I wouldn’t call her my friend, but we are acquainted.”
“Then you know of a certain flaw of hers that often disallows her to keep things to herself.”
