It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(97)

“My lord,” Daisy murmured, “I am relieved that you have returned. There is a…a private matter that is causing us some concern…”

“How may I be of service?” Marcus asked immediately. A light breeze ruffled through his hair as he bent his head over hers.

Daisy hardly seemed to know how to explain. “It’s my sister,” she told him tensely. “She can’t be found anywhere. The last I saw her was about five hours ago. She left on some errand and wouldn’t explain what it was. When she did not return, I took it upon myself to look for her. And the other wallflowers—that is, Evie and Annabelle—they have been searching, too. Lillian is nowhere to be found in the manor, nor in the gardens. I even walked as far as the wishing well, to see if she’d gone there on some whim. It’s not like her to disappear like this. Not without me, at any rate. Perhaps it is too soon to worry, but…” She paused and frowned, as if she were trying to reason herself out of her concern but found herself unable. “Something is very wrong, my lord. I can feel it.”

Marcus kept his face expressionless, though inside he felt a violent stab of worry. His mind busily riffled through the possible explanations for her absence, from the frivolous to the extreme, and yet nothing seemed to make sense. Lillian was not a silly fool who might have wandered away from the house and become lost, nor, despite her love of pranks, would she play this kind of game. Neither did it seem likely that she had gone visiting somewhere, as she knew no one in the village, and she would not have left the estate on her own. Was she injured in some way? Had some illness overtaken her?

His heart thundering anxiously, he kept his voice calm as he glanced from Daisy’s small face to Evie Jenner’s. “Is it possible that she went to the stables and—”

“N-no, my lord,” Evie Jenner said. “I’ve already gone there to ask, and all of the horses are there, and none of the stable hands have s-seen Lillian today.”

Marcus nodded briefly. “I’ll organize a thorough search of the house and grounds,” he said. “She’ll be found within the hour.”

Seeming comforted by his brusque manner, Daisy let out an unsteady sigh. “What can I do?”

“Tell me more about the errand she went on.” Marcus stared intently into her round, gingerbread-colored eyes. “What was your conversation prior to her leaving?”

“One of the housemaids came to deliver a message to her this morning, and—”

“At what time?” Marcus interrupted tersely.

“Approximately eight o’clock.”

“Which housemaid?”

“I don’t know, my lord. I could hardly see a thing, as the door was scarcely opened as they spoke. And the maid wore a mobcap, so I can’t even tell you the color of her hair.”

During the conversation, they were joined by Hunt and Annabelle.

“I’ll question the housekeeper and the housemaids,” Hunt said.

“Good.” Filled with an explosive need for action, Marcus muttered, “I’ll start the grounds search.” He would gather a group of servants and a few male guests, including Lillian’s father, to help. Rapidly he calculated the length of time that Lillian had been absent, and the distance she could have traveled on foot across relatively rugged terrain. “We’ll begin with the gardens, and broaden it to a ten-mile radius around the manor.” Catching Hunt’s gaze, he jerked his head toward the doors, and they both made to depart.

“My lord,” came Daisy’s anxious voice, delaying him briefly. “You will find her, won’t you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “And then I’m going to strangle her.”

That drew a tense smile from Daisy, and she watched him as he strode away.

Marcus’s mood progressed from biting frustration to unendurable worry during the lengthening afternoon. Thomas Bowman, grimly convinced that his daughter was up to some bit of mischief making, joined a party of riders who searched the nearby woodland and surrounding meadows, while another group of volunteers went down the bluff to the river. The bachelors’ house, the gatehouse, the caretaker’s house, the icehouse, the chapel, conservatory, wine cellar, stable and stable yard were all meticulously inspected. It seemed that every inch of Stony Cross Park had been covered, with nothing, not so much as a footprint or discarded glove, to indicate what might have happened to Lillian.

While Marcus rode through the wood and fields until Brutus’s sides were wet and his mouth flecked with foam, Simon Hunt remained inside the manor to methodically question the servants. He was the only man Marcus trusted to perform the task with the same ruthless efficiency that he himself would have used. Marcus, for his part, didn’t want to speak patiently with anyone. He wanted to knock heads together and choke the information he wanted from someone’s helpless throat. Knowing that Lillian was somewhere out there, lost or perhaps hurt, filled him with an unfamiliar emotion, hot as lightning, cold as ice …a feeling he gradually identified as fear. Lillian’s safety was too important to him. He could not tolerate the thought that she was in a situation in which he was unable to help her. Unable, even, to find her.

“Will you order the ponds and lake to be dragged, milord?” asked the head footman, William, after a rapid account of the search so far. Marcus looked at him blankly, while a buzzing in his ears grew sharper, more piercing, and the hammer of his own pulse caused his veins to hurt. “Not yet,” he heard himself say in a surprisingly even voice. “I’m going to my study to confer with Mr. Hunt. You will find me there if anything occurs in the next few minutes.”