“Hot irons? Tea and biscuits?” Henrietta crossed her arms. “You are rewarding negative behavior. This simply will not do.”
His head tilted, then his gaze shifted past her. “Mrs. Braxton, call the servants. We must find Louise.”
At that moment, a crack of thunder shook the house. Rain tapped the roof, picking up speed and then turning into wild dance of sound.
“This weather is not good for her lungs.”
“We will find her,” he said, his features strained.
Servants filed into the hallway, lining up by rank.
St. Raven crossed his arms behind his back, posture ramrod-straight and mouth firm. “Please welcome Miss Gordon. She is Louise’s new governess.”
She did not miss the exhalations of relief many of the servants tried to hide. Was Louise so terrible? Perhaps these people just did not know how to contain an excitable child. Not that Henrietta had much experience with child-rearing, but common sense told her that consistency and a gentle attitude went far toward taming mischief and being spoiled.
“We will be looking for my niece, and she is not to run off like this anymore. Does anyone have an idea of where she might’ve gone?”
“She likes the horses,” a young footman volunteered.
“Or the pond,” said Mrs. Braxton. A portly woman with a severe set to her chin, she nevertheless carried a twinkle in her eye. “Always catching the minnows, though I tell the young miss it isn’t sightly.”
“Excuse me?” A maid at the back stepped forward. “I’ve seen her at the folly...a few times, my lord.” She bowed, looking apprehensive as she did so.
“The folly?” St. Raven stroked his chin. “That does sound like a good place to hide and it would appeal to a twelve-year-old’s imagination. Very good, thank you. Stay here and set out tea and sandwiches for when the others return. Check the stables and the pond. Look through the house. I will search the folly.”
“I will ready the horses.” A whiskered man bowed and left quickly.
Henrietta lifted her skirts, prepared to follow the man.
St. Raven put out a hand to stop her. “Not so fast, Miss Gordon. You’ve just overcome a lung disease. You’ll stay here.”
“It was an infection.” She narrowed her eyes, dodging out of reach of his imperious touch. “I certainly will not stay. I am going with you. I’ll wear an extra layer. You might need me. Louise could be hurt.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” His voice was harsh, his eyes glints of green. Another shock of thunder resonated.
She took the thick shawl a footman handed her. The butler opened the door and rain sluiced into the house, pelting the floor in huge, splattering drops.
St. Raven gestured her out and, summoning fortitude, and aware of a simmering panic for Louise’s safety gaining ground within, she stepped into the storm.
* * *
Dominic didn’t think he’d ever felt such intense fear in his life. His jaw ached from clenching, and his neck kinked. The ride to the folly had been arduous and bumpy, the carriage traversing the rain-slicked path and mud holes with ferocious dexterity.
The folly loomed behind the flickering lightning and sheets of rain. It was as though someone had shattered the sky. And Louise was out in this.
The carriage came to a stop and he exited, then turned to help Henrietta out. Her bones were as light as a bird’s, and he felt her shiver when he put his arm around her waist. Mouth tight, he set her gently on the ground. A maid stayed in the carriage with warm blankets and hot tea, for when they returned.
He turned, trying to see past the torrential waterfall drenching the landscape. The folly’s artfully constructed columns rose like pale sentries against the smeared horizon. His brother had constructed the thing at his wife’s request. Many in the ton created ornamental buildings in their gardens. This was located a bit farther from the main house and had been designed to look like a Greek pavilion. With this wind-driven rain, however, the odds of the pavilion’s interior remaining dry were low.
He swiped his hand across his face, seeking relief from the stinging nettles of precipitation. “We shall look within,” he shouted.
Henrietta replied, her words lost in the noise. The downpour slammed against the ground, making hearing anything impossible. They trudged toward the folly, picking through debris strewn across the path.
Jacks held a lamp, but the flickering light did little to ease the way. Henrietta moved ahead of him, her steps nimble and quick. She dodged up the steps of the folly, disappearing into the cavernous blackness that was its entrance.
Dominic muttered under his breath and picked up his pace. Infuriating woman. He’d have two to worry about if she wasn’t careful. He eased into the darkness, taking the lamp from Jacks and holding it up to see inside the oval-shaped orifice. Henrietta stood in the middle, eyes wide. She shook her head when the light fell upon her face. She was speaking but the words were silently whipped away into the night.
Leaning close, he put his ear to her mouth to hear her better.
“She’s not here.” Worry crowded her syllables, and his chest tightened.
“We’ll find her.”
He straightened, pushing back the urge to hug Henrietta and tell her everything would be fine.
Before he knew what she was doing, she grabbed his hand and Jacks’s. He glanced down, and realized she was praying. Holding up the lamp, he saw that her eyes were closed and her lips were moving softly and though he could not hear her words, he felt them.
The pattering of rain and the growling of thunder all coalesced into one strange moment of peace in which he wondered if God would hear this unconventional woman. Would He answer in the way they wanted him to? He closed his eyes, her small hand enfolded in his, her fingers tiny
