“Just checking.” But then his younger brother rose and crossed the room with an outstretched hand. “I’m happy for you.” They gripped hands, but then Anthony couldn’t help but clasp his brother in a brief, and quite manly, embrace.
His siblings were all he’d had since their father’s passing. Daphne joined them, her eyes shinier than normal. When they all separated, feeling more blessed than embarrassed, Anthony brushed his hands together. “Let’s get this Christmas Eve celebration underway.”
* * *
The next morning, feeling considerably less confident than he had the night before, Anthony rode the sleigh back to his neighbor’s estate. The Viscount would expect to speak with him first. Anthony would like to be allowed a private word, alone, with Miss Fairchild. Dash it all but he’d done naught but stir up something of a hornet’s nest.
It would be worth it though. He hoped.
He would see Charlotte again today.
His heart nearly thumped out of his chest at the thought.
Once inside, the butler asked him to wait in the same room he’d been delegated to the previous morning. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. He wondered if his absence from Christmas Eve dinner hadn’t gone over all that well.
After cooling his heels for thirty minutes, the door opened, but it was not the viscount. Rather, the Viscountess and Miss Fairchild.
Lady Denton’s demeanor was cool, and the younger girl sent him a worried look.
“I understand you requested a word with my husband,” The Viscountess began. “He’s yet abed but if… necessary. I can persuade him to rise.”
Anthony cleared his throat. This was not any meeting he’d ever wished to have. “Would it be possible to have a word with your daughter?” He cleared his throat again. “Alone?”
The older woman glanced between him and Miss Fairchild with pinched lips.
“It’s all right, Mama.” Miss Fairchild spoke softly, and then demurely sat down.
“I’ll be leaving the door ajar.” Lady Denton rose, albeit reluctantly, and strode from the room. As promised, she left the door open by at least twelve inches.
Miss Fairchild looked up at him as he’d remained on his feet. “Won’t you sit down?”
Taking a deep breath, Anthony lowered himself to the chair directly across from her.
“I don’t suppose you’ve come to wish me Merry Christmas.” She gave him a wry smile. “Since you left last night, without speaking to Father, I’d guess you are either here to confirm my consent before speaking to him again… Or something else altogether.”
He refused to clear his throat again. Twisting his face into a somber expression he took a deep breath. “I am here, with abject apologies, Miss Fairchild. For I fear you and I wouldn’t suit–”
Miss Fairchild interjected. “I rescind my agreement to your proposal, my lord. Since nothing has been made public, I feel I’m not acting improperly by telling you this.”
“Not at all.” And yet he needed to run her words through his mind again in order to fully comprehend her meaning. Thank God, he’d dodged that bullet. “Have you told anyone?”
She shook her head. Brown curls remaining surprisingly still. “No one except for Drake, my maid. And since mother sent her packing, I needn’t worry about her telling anyone.”
Anthony let out a breath of relief. She’d only told Drake.
Her maid.
Charlotte. Her mother had what?
“Excuse me? Your mother sent Miss Drake where?” A huge lump formed in his throat. “On Christmas?”
Miss Fairchild shrugged. “She was a poor companion and equally inept at being a lady’s maid.”
She cannot have gone far. He’d just spoken with her last night!
“Do you know where she went?” He knew he shouldn’t be asking Miss Fairchild this, but it was possible Charlotte had told her where she would go.
“Mama says Scotland. I have an aunt who requires a companion.” Miss Fairchild shuttered. “A veritable demon, that woman. I must admit, I don’t envy Drake such an appointment.” And then a pretty sigh. “She should have tried harder at her position here.”
Anthony burst from the chair, knocking it over in the process. She cannot have travelled far in these conditions. A good deal of the snow was already melted but the roads remained muddy and wet. Panic struck at the thought of how vulnerable she would be.
Before he could excuse himself, the viscountess pushed the door opened. “Is everything all right in here?”
Just the person who might hold the answers he needed. As much as he hated revealing too much of his personal inclinations to Lady Denton, his need to locate Charlotte was even greater.
“Your daughter says Miss Drake, has left your employ.”
A satisfied look entered the lady’s eyes. “She has. I dismissed her yesterday afternoon. Was there any particular reason, my lord, that you would be inquiring as to one of our former employee’s current situation?”
In that instant, he knew. Charlotte lost her job because of him.
Yesterday afternoon. She’d known when she saw him last night. Damn his eyes, he should have told her of his plans then. He shouldn’t have left anything to chance.
She had been telling him goodbye forever. He slipped his hand into the pocket where he carried her locket and grasped it in his palm.
“I wish to speak with the lady. When did she leave?”
Lady Denton flicked some imaginary lent from the sleeve of her dress. “Hours ago.”
“Scotland?”
Another long drawn out pause. “She refused my offer. Foolish girl. If she thinks she’s going to get a reference from me, then she has another thing coming.”
He’d have to strangle this woman before she’d give him the information he needed. With a nod in Miss Fairchild’s direction, Anthony practically sprinted from the room.
What had Daphne told him when he’d first met Charlotte? It had been the vicar who had recommended her to Denton in the first place. He’d have no difficulty finding the vicar. On Christmas morning, he’d be either at home or the church, preparing for services. Wouldn’t he?
What in the hell did a vicar do when he wasn’t preaching from the pulpit anyhow?
He’d damned well be finding out soon enough. He glanced toward Viscount Denton’s closed door. He and the man had had a good relationship for as long as he’d remembered. He’d have to make amends another time.
All he could think of right now was locating Charlotte.
Chapter 11
Christmas Day
“Amen.” Charlotte spoke the word, oh so gratefully.
She’d asked the driver to deliver her to the vicarage this morning instead of Scotland. Kenneth had not complained. Bundled from head to toe, he’d been only too grateful to cancel such a dangerous journey in the midst of winter. As it was, even the short drive to the vicarage took longer than normal.
This was the only place she could think to come today where she wouldn’t be turned away. Mr. Frye the local vicar, had been a friend of her father’s. He was also a man of God.
As luck would have it, Charlotte was not to be destitute after all. But until she could make the journey to meet her aunt, she was grateful for a roof over her head. Mrs. Gibson had given her a shilling when she’d left. Charlotte hadn’t wanted to take it, suspecting it came from the housekeeper’s own pocket, but she hadn’t much choice if she were to make it to London.