Geoffrey’s name echoed between the trees, and lights drifted in the darkness like fireflies.
“Geoffrey!” Alice shouted, her clear voice a bell among the deeper tones of the men. “Oh, Rupert, I hope he has not gone far, or hurt himself. What if he tried to climb another tree?”
“We will find him, Alice.” Rupert held the lamp aloft and shouted the boy’s name into the night.
It felt like they searched for hours, walking through the woods in a straight line, until someone nearby whistled and shouted.
“We found him! Your Grace, we found him!”
“Thank heavens,” Alice cried, releasing Rupert’s hand in order to lift her skirts. She jumped over woodland debris, with Rupert close behind her. A gardener and footman stood together beneath a tree, lantern held high, looking up into the branches.
Alice stepped between them, looking up as well. “Geoffrey. Oh, sweet boy, you’re safe.”
Rupert came up behind her. The boy clung to a branch nine feet from the ground, his face white and streaked with dirt and tears.
“I-I-I was hiding, and I got-got lost.” Then his voice grew softer. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, dear.” Alice looked to Rupert. “Can you catch him?”
He handed her the lantern. “I can. You men, call off the search. We will fetch him down and go back to the castle. Be certain the duke is informed.”
The footman nodded and the gardener tipped his cap, then they went in opposite directions, shouting that the boy was safe.
“Geoffrey, do you remember me? Mr. Gardiner?”
The boy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I am going to stand beneath you. I want you to try climbing down, but if you fall, I will catch you. I promise.”
The boy sniffled and nodded, his little face adopting a brave expression. Slowly, the boy stretched his foot to a lower branch. He uncurled one arm most reluctantly from where it clung. Then he moved down a little more, and he managed to lower himself two feet before he slipped.
Rupert caught him easily, then held the child close a moment. The poor mite shook all over with fear and exhaustion. Alice relieved Rupert of Geoffrey to hug him tightly to her chest.
“I was so worried,” she said quietly. “When you didn’t come back to the schoolroom, Lord James told me you were missing.”
“I didn’t mean to get lost.” The boy held her tight, then he started to cry. “I’m sorry. Is Miss Felton angry?”
Rupert’s heart broke in two. The horrid, frosty governess ought not be allowed to look after anyone’s children if the boy’s greatest concern was raising her ire.
“The duke is not angry at you,” he said stoutly. “And his opinion matters most. He organized this entire search party for you, after Miss Sharpe told him you were in the woods.”
“The duke?” The boy fairly squeaked the title.
Alice nodded somberly, then took a handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe at the child’s cheeks and beneath his nose. “Come. I know he will want to see you safe for himself.”
She took one hand, Rupert took the other, and they brought Geoffrey out of the woods.
A memory came to Rupert, of Alice shuddering at the very sight of the trees, and in broad daylight. “Do you know, Geoffrey, that Miss Sharpe is quite afraid of the woods?”
She gave him a quick glance.
“She is?” the boy whispered.
“Yes. She came into them anyway, because she cares about you.” Rupert met her eyes in the dim light of the lantern. “And I love that she would do such a thing. I hope, someday, she might care for me that way.”
The boy actually sounded amused. “Lady Isabelle says she thinks Miss Sharpe is going to marry you.”
Rupert laughed. “Only if I am very, very fortunate.”
“It sounds as though I ought to have a word with Lady Isabelle about gossip.” Though she tried to sound unamused, Rupert could hear her smile in her voice.
“And Lord James says you’d better not marry her,” Geoffrey continued, between sniffles.
Alice sucked in a deep breath.
“Why would Lord James say that?” he asked quietly, meeting Alice’s gaze above the boy’s head.
“Because he doesn’t want her to go away. I don’t blame him. Miss Sharpe is too nice to get married.”
Rupert gave the boy’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t you know, lad? The nicest ladies make the very best of friends. And wives. Now, why don’t you tell me about your tree climbing? You seem to enjoy the sport.”
Alice remained silent during the rest of their walk.
When they arrived at the castle stables, most of the search party had returned, with more streaming in. Geoffrey’s eyes widened again at the crowd of men gathered, and several of them either nodded or winked in his direction.
“All these people were looking for me?” he asked, voice soft amid the many footsteps on the gravel and stone.
Before Rupert or Alice could answer, the duke’s voice rang through the stable yard. “Here is our adventurer. Master Geoffrey.”
The crowd parted and bowed as His Grace approached the boy, Lord Farleigh at his side. Alice sunk into a curtsy, Rupert bowed, and Geoffrey hastily followed suit.
“Are you well, Master Geoffrey?”
“Y-yes, sir,” the child whispered.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Alice corrected gently.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The duke went down on his knee before the boy. “I am glad to hear it. All of us must happen upon misadventure occasionally. The important thing is that we learn from it and try not to repeat our mistake. Do you understand?” His tone was gentle, precisely the sort a man ought to use with a child.
Geoffrey, overwhelmed and exhausted, nodded mutely.
“Simon.” The duke stood and motioned his son forward. “Why don’t you take Master Geoffrey to the kitchens and let them spoil him a bit. Every adventure ought to end with warm milk and a biscuit.”
The earl chuckled. “Nearly all of mine did at his age.” Then he held his hand out to Geoffrey. “Come along, Master Geoffrey. Cook will know just what you need.” With a trust born of exhaustion, Geoffrey put his hand in the much larger one of the duke’s son, then the two of them walked to the house.
The rest of the men began returning to their duties.
Why put off for another moment the thing which weighed most upon Rupert’s mind? Rupert put his arm around Alice’s waist and tucked her close to his side. “Your Grace, I realize this might be odd timing, but might we speak with you a moment?”
Alice did not argue and instead tipped her head back enough to smile up at him.
The duke chuckled and folded his hands behind him. He raised one dark eyebrow and looked from Rupert to Alice with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Of course. I should very much like to know why my entomologist and governess appear to be on such close terms.”
For a moment, Rupert felt Alice tense at his side. As brave as she had become, he did not blame her one whit for her nervousness in that moment.
“Through our work on the catalog, Your Grace,” Alice answered the question, her tone conveying respect and the slightest hesitancy to speak. “But things have advanced, you might say.”
Rupert hurried to add, “To the point that I should like to court Miss Sharpe, with Your Grace’s permission.”