“Je ne peux travailler avec si peu d’égard! Je suis un artiste! Je—”
Kendra’s head was ready to explode. “?a suffit ! Taisez-vous!” she shouted. “Cher Dieu, une femme est disparue! Elle peut être morte! Ayez un peu de compassion!”
Monsieur Anton swung around, gaping at her. “Vous parlez très bien fran?ais!”
She was aware everyone was staring at her with the same shocked expression. She massaged her aching temples. “Goddamnit. I don’t have time for this.”
Alec put his hand on her shoulder. Kendra wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort or restrain.
It was obvious that Monsieur Anton hadn’t recognized Alec until that moment. His dark eyes rounded and he blanched. “Pardonnez-moi, Monseigneur! Je ne vous ai pas vu!”
“Je comprends, Monsieur Anton. Ne vous inquiétez pas.” In fluent French, Alec dismissed the apology and turned back to the footmen, ordering them to gather the volunteers and meet him in the stable yard.
Alec glanced at Kendra. “You continue to surprise, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra said nothing. Alec shook his head, then followed the departing footmen out the back door. Several maids surged forward.
“W’ot can we do ter ’elp, miss?” one of them asked Kendra.
“Miss Donovan!” Mrs. Danbury’s voice sliced across the noise of the kitchen. “Please come here.”
Kendra hesitated, glancing at the anxious faces around her. “Keep thinking about the last time you saw Rose—if you saw her with anyone, or if you noticed any strangers around the castle,” she told them, and then broke away to join the housekeeper at the door.
“The carriage is ready,” Mrs. Danbury said quietly.
Kendra nodded, but when she tried to move past her, the housekeeper caught her arm.
“You will find the girl, won’t you?” For once there was no suspicion or contempt or dislike in the other woman’s gaze. There was only fear, and a terrible need. Like the others, Mrs. Danbury seemed to think she could actually do something.
“I’m . . . I’m going to try.”
Mrs. Danbury nodded. “Then, go. Please, go find her before it’s too late.”
Kendra managed a nod, but there was an icy lump in her throat. The last time anyone had seen Rose was eleven that morning.
It might already be too late.
49
Time was the enemy in every missing person case, every kidnapping, every homicide. There was always a phantom clock ticking in the background, counting every second.
Darkness had fallen, and Kendra was reminded again of how much she took for granted in her era. Something as simple as street lighting would be a blessing. Here, they relied on the moon—and thank God there was a moon that night—and the carriage’s brass lanterns, which were, she supposed, a precursor to headlights.
As the carriage made its now familiar lurch forward, she clenched her hands on her lap in an attempt to alleviate the unbearable tension twisting in her gut.
“’Tis hazardous to travel at night,” Aldridge said mildly, recognizing her anxiety. “London recently acquired gas lighting on its streets, but the countryside is a far different matter. We must proceed more cautiously.”
She’d already figured that out, but she nodded anyway. They lapsed into a grim silence that was only broken by the clatter of horses’ hooves, the rhythmic turn of the carriage’s wheels and the crunch of gravel, the occasional squeak of leather. Kendra tried to clear her mind, to compartmentalize her thoughts, but horrifying images of Rose kept intruding, expanding the icy ball of terror that had become permanently lodged in the pit of her stomach.
Is Rose alive? Or were they racing around like rats in a maze for a hopeless cause?
The ride felt like hours, but it was actually only fifteen minutes before the vehicle swayed to a stop outside the vicarage. The Duke dispensed with the calling card ritual, opening the carriage door himself and jumping down. He waited only to assist Kendra, then hurried up the flagstone path to bang on the door.
“We need to speak with your master, my good man!” he said when the butler opened it.
The servant gaped at him, completely taken aback by someone as important as the Duke of Aldridge appearing on the doorstep with no announcement. “S-sir? Your Grace. Mr. Harris and Mrs. Harris only sat down to dine. I shall inform them of your presence at once!”
“No need.” Aldridge shouldered his way past the man, moving down the long, skinny hall to the stairs. “I know where the dining room is.”
Kendra followed.