“He was most kind,” Phoebe said.
Gaylon nodded understanding, then stepped past her out the door. Phoebe hurried toward the stairs to the right. Gaylon would keep silent about her present state of dress. If she could avoid the other servants, she might yet circumvent any gossip. Her foot touched the third step when a woman behind her shrieked. Phoebe jumped, then cursed, and slowly turned to face Molly, the downstairs maid. Linens lay strewn about her feet.
With a sigh, Phoebe stepped back down onto the hallway carpet. “It's all right, Molly.”
A quick, heavy tread of feet echoed down the corridor that led to the kitchen and Phoebe groaned. An instant later, the housekeeper appeared in the foyer. Phoebe started at sight of the large butcher knife Mrs. Harkin held even as the housekeeper’s eyes widened and she halted.
“Hello, Mrs. Harkin,” Phoebe said.
“Lord,” Mrs. Harkin said, circling Phoebe, eyeing her, “you look terrible.”
“Mrs. Harkin,” Phoebe said mildly.
“Huh?” Mrs. Harkin’s head jerked up and she met Phoebe’s gaze.
Phoebe nodded toward the knife. “Do you mind?”
The housekeeper gave her a blank look, then glanced at the raised knife. “Oh.” She laughed. “I was cutting ham.” She lowered the knife. “Where have you been, Miss? There’s been something of a stir this past two weeks, what with you missing and all.”
“A stir?” Phoebe asked in a light voice.
“Oh, yes, Miss,” Molly broke in. “Calders returned home hoping to find you here.”
“I thought he was in Scotland,” Phoebe said with a laugh.
“Said he’d been poisoned,” the maid said. “Said, when he woke up, you were gone.”
“Poisoned?”
Mrs. Harkin snorted. “He wasn’t poisoned. Got a hold of bad brandy, is all. If he hadn’t been drinking to begin with, he wouldn’t have lost you.”
“He didn’t lose me,” Phoebe replied. The beginnings of a headache pressed against her skull.
“Who was it made off with you?” Molly asked, wide eyed.
“No one made off—”
“Miss!”
Phoebe whirled at the sound of Calder’s voice. He stared at her as if she were a ghost. By heavens, all the thought she had given to keeping quiet her abduction, and not once had she considered Calders.
“Calders—”
“I nearly got you killed,” he said with such anguish that Phoebe stood dumbstruck. “Your uncle will never forgive me.”
“It wasn't your fault,” she said. “As you can see, I am well.” She prayed no one would notice she looked more worn than she should.
“Calders,” Gaylon’s low voice drew everyone’s attention to him. He stood behind the group. “I believe you have work in the stables.”
Calders nodded, shoulders slumped, and turned.
“Calders,” Phoebe called.
He halted, but didn't face her.
“Calders,” she repeated firmly, and he turned.
“It wasn't your fault,” she said. “If it hadn’t been the brandy, it would have been something else. I'm thankful you weren't a casualty. The jest was in very bad taste.”
“Jest?”
“Exactly.”
His brow furrowed, then his eyes narrowed shrewdly. He started to say something, but Phoebe raised a brow. His expression melted into his usual placid look.
“As you say, Miss.”
“One more thing, Calders.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“What did my uncle say when you told him I was, er, lost?”
“He hasn't said anything,” Calders replied.
“Lord and Lady Albery left for their estate in Carlisle before Calders returned," Gaylon interjected.
Hope surged through Phoebe. “You didn't tell them I was missing?”
“I did, indeed. I sent them a message.”
“And?” Phoebe prodded impatiently.
“Lady Albery wrote back that they were dealing with the situation.”
Dealing with the situation? What did that mean? Had the duke's letter reached her uncle? Or had Uncle been wise enough not to make a ruckus about her disappearance until he could find out what happened?
“Has there been any further communication?” Phoebe asked.
“No,” Gaylon said.
She turned. “Calders, why didn’t you stay in Scotland?”
“Your cousin sent me home.”
“Ty? What has he to do with this?”
“We assumed he was assisting in the search for you,” Gaylon said.
“Quite right,” Phoebe quickly put in. She smiled at Calders. “You did the right thing.”
“I don't think so, Miss.” He hung his head again. “I should have been watching you closer.”
“What were you to do? Follow me about in the ballroom?”
He gave her a sharp look. “If need be.”
She laughed despite herself. “A fine sight, indeed. No, I think we can do without the drama. Don't forget, I am unharmed.”
He surprised her by running an assessing eye over her. “If you’ll excuse me for saying so, Miss, you don't look as well as you usually do.”
“No, I suppose not. But all in all, none the worse for wear.”