After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(48)

What an excellent question. If only she knew the answer.

Benedict considered. “A new hat?”

“No,” Theresa said, realizing the answer as she spoke. Judith had stopped speaking of the matter six months ago; that didn’t mean she didn’t care.

Years ago, their family had been separated. Her eldest brother had been transported as punishment for doing things that really ought not to have been crimes, but which were technically treasonous. Her father had been…could you call it separation, if he was separated from his life? And Camilla, their middle sister, had gone to live with an uncle.

Judith had tried to find her, but their uncle had passed her on to someone else, and so on and so on. Letters had not been forwarded. The whole matter was something of a disaster.

They hadn’t found her yet, and Judith was in mourning. She hadn’t said anything; she was much too Judith to do so. But after more than a year of searching with no response, Theresa knew precisely what her sister thought about the matter of Camilla.

Judith had started wearing black ribbons, the only outward show of grief that she allowed herself.

“Judith wants to find Camilla. That is what we are going to accomplish for her birthday, you and I. We are going to find Camilla.”

Benedict glanced over at Theresa. His lips pressed together. “Uh. Well. Um.” He fell silent after this proclamation, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

Theresa tilted her head. “Permission to speak more precisely is granted, Corporal Benedict.”

“I mean to say…we have less than a month. And perhaps investigations should be left to professionals? And also…this is precisely how you always get me in trouble.”

Ha. Benedict never got in trouble, not the way she did. Not even when he was deeply at fault. It wasn’t fair that only men were put to studying law; men were never held accountable for practically anything they did. It was always Theresa, why did you and Theresa, what is going on?

“Think on it, Benedict,” Theresa said. “You would enjoy being an investigator. Very little sitting around in an office reading boring pages. A great deal of talking to people and walking about and looking at clues and such.”

Benedict’s nose wrinkled.

“Besides, who better to find Camilla than family? Nobody knows her the way we do.”

“I was five when she left,” Benedict offered. “I don’t remember her at all.”

Theresa had been six, and she scarcely remembered Camilla, either, but there was no point in admitting to a weakness.

“Dream large or don’t dream at all,” Theresa said with a toss of her head. “Besides, think of what it would mean to Judith. Nothing means more to her than family. Finding Anthony is…not an option.” She wasn’t going to think of Anthony. “Neither of us remember Camilla the way Judith does. We were both too young. But I can understand the pain of losing a well-loved sister. I lost a sister I loved once.”

“Your sister was not real,” Benedict put in. “You invented her when you were three. She did not exist.”

“Insubordination,” Theresa snapped. “What is experience and memory, if not a product of the mind? The fact that my sister may have been imaginary does not make her loss any less painful.”

Benedict just stared at her.

“In fact, it makes it a hundred times worse for me than Judith,” Theresa tossed off. “At least her sister might someday be recovered. Mine is lost forever.”

Benedict let out a sigh and sat on the divan. “I’m guessing you have a plan.”

“However did you know?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached his hand under the cushion where she’d stashed her misadventure in embroidery. He withdrew it and squinted at her scene.

“Let’s assume Camilla is alive,” Theresa said. “It may not be true, but it would be a horrid present if she’s dead. If she still lives, then the following must be true. First, she is not reading the newspapers. If she were, she would have seen one of the advertisements Judith and Christian have taken out.”

Benedict nodded. “Also, she cannot be using her maiden name—or someone else would have seen the advertisements and sent word in. Perhaps she is married?”

“Good!” Theresa grinned at her brother. “You are good at this.”

He flushed in pleasure. “That would make her difficult to find. How do you reach the unreachable, General Worth?”

Theresa couldn’t remember precisely when she’d made her younger brother into her personal, private army, or how she’d become general of it. But it helped to have someone relying on her, someone who didn’t judge her for her terrible embroidery.

If she’d been left to her own devices, she wouldn’t have felt any need to deliver. But the sheer pressure of being called General Worth made her think that she had something to offer. She was going to… She was going to…

Yes! She had it. Or at least, she knew where to start.

Theresa met her brother’s eyes. “As it turns out,” she said, “I have an idea about that.”



* * *



“Well,” Adrian said, as the barouche pulled up in front of a two-story building. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, lighting the windows in orange. “We’re here. The family country cottage.”