Sebastian snatched the letter from the man’s hand.
The thick paper was from his own stationery. He broke the seal and tore the envelope open with his fingers. Two lines, in Peregrin’s loopy handwriting.
Sir,
In regards to the Royal Navy, I have given it due consideration, and I simply cannot do it.
Respectfully,
P.
I simply cannot do it.
Very likely not abducted, then.
Sebastian briefly closed his eyes. His heart began to beat again, a hard tattoo against the wall of his chest. Not abducted. Not hurt. But the truth was that the little runt had bailed on him.
He very carefully placed the letter onto the desk. “Any indication where he is now?”
Fergusson shook his head. “No one’s seen him. Several trains and plenty of coaches are leaving from the train station from six o’clock in the morning. I brought every schedule.”
Sebastian ignored the papers Fergusson laid out on his desk; he already knew that there were several routes to coastal towns, and at least one train stopped at Plymouth. Ferries were leaving from there. His brother could well be on his way to France. And his protection officer was presently here at Claremont.
An emotion moved through him, almost too strong to be contained.
He went behind his desk, whipped out a sheet of paper, and began jotting down instructions.
“Get the coach ready,” he said to Ramsey as he was writing, “and send a cable to Edward Bryson that I will see him this evening.”
“The h-head of Scotland Yard, Your Grace?”
Sebastian looked up sharply. “Is there another Edward Bryson who could be relevant to this situation?”
Ramsey turned crimson. “No, Your Grace.”
“After you have wired him, inform the town house. Fergusson, be ready to leave in twenty minutes. We are going to London.”
Ramsey and Fergusson bowed and hastily headed for the door.
Annabelle made to follow them, and Sebastian put down the pen. “You stay, miss,” he said. “If you please,” he added in a softer tone when he saw her stiffen.
She turned. Her eyes were wary. Did he look as crazed as he felt?
“Stay,” he repeated.
She nodded, her expression still reserved. He didn’t want her reserved. He rounded the desk, his impulse to go to her, but then he veered toward the row of windows. He could not put into words what he wanted or needed from her right now; he could hardly set her down on his desk and pull up her skirts . . . abruptly, he turned to the view over the fields. With a certain indifference, he noted the tightness in his chest, the difficulty in drawing a deep breath. That was a low point in a man’s life, when his own brother betrayed him.
“I trust you won’t say a word about this to anyone,” he said without turning.
“Of course not,” he heard her say. Her voice was so soothing, a balm on his raw temper. Damnation, had his mooning over her allowed his brother to scheme his escape under his very nose? He glared at the barren planes of his land, disgusted with himself.
* * *
Annabelle couldn’t blame the two grown men for scrambling from the study like chastised schoolboys. Montgomery’s anger was terrifying, the kind that sucked the very air from a room. Luckily, she was inured, having had some experiences of her own with forceful emotions. But it hurt to see him like this, every line of his body so rigid he might crack. At some point, he had put his glove back on, and the hand that had caressed her face so tenderly in the garden was now a fist by his side, and the sight of that angry fist made her heart, withered and dusty as it had been for years, unfurl and overflow for him.
She approached slowly.
“Have you known my brother much?” he said to the window. “Have you any inkling as to where he would hide awhile?”
“Hide?” Another step. “No. And we were never close enough for him to confide in me.”
She was near enough to touch him now. She hesitated. This was audacious, but very necessary.
She slid her arms around his waist.
He felt hard and unyielding, like a block of granite in her arms that radiated furious heat. When he made no move to rebuff her, she leaned her cheek into the space between his shoulder blades.
He turned and stared down at her, a bit like a lion would stare at a lamb that had foolishly wandered into his cave, deciding whether to devour her flat-out or to roar and chase her off. She burrowed closer, pressed her face against his chest right where his heart was beating, and wondered if he’d take a bite out of her.
Finally, finally, he wrapped her in his arms, taking what meager comfort she offered.
She gave a relieved sigh.
He tucked her head under his chin. “He has run away,” he said gruffly.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
His hands began smoothing circles up and down her back. “He drugged his valet.”
“It sounds like it, yes.”
She had done right to not offer him platitudes. His chest expanded and fell, and she felt the slow ease of some of the tension in his muscles.
“He has a discipline problem,” he said. “I enlisted him in the Royal Navy, and this is his answer.”
Oh. That was remarkably bad. As remarkable as the fact that he was sharing it with her.
The clock began to bong; surely the twenty minutes were up soon, but Montgomery made no sign of releasing her. When she looked up, he was focused on something on the wall behind her, and she turned in his arms. Rows of paintings depicting stately homes and castles covered the wall to the right of the door. A lone painting hung to the left. It showed a sheer cliff with a castle, the ancient, drafty kind with walls six feet deep.
“Is that your castle?”
“Yes. Castle Montgomery.” His voice was thick, and the tension returned to his body.
She leaned into him, and he locked his forearms beneath her breasts and pulled her snug against him.
“Managing nearly a dozen estates presents little challenge compared to the proper management of one brother,” he said. He gave her a light squeeze. “What do you make of that with your fine mind, Miss Archer?”
She smiled wryly. “I suppose human relationships require a different approach. A brother is not so easily put into a ledger.”
“Ah, but he is,” he said. “I know exactly how much he costs me.”
“In coin, yes. But when do emotions ever add up neatly?”
He paused. “Emotions,” he said. He released her and stepped away, the sudden absence of his warm body leaving her disoriented.