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mouth to stop crying out and turned to stare out the window at the passing landscape. The horses’ pace was too slow. Nicholas’s coach traveled much faster. Where was he now? Might he be on the way to Elm Park with Aunt Penelope? She didn’t care if Nicholas was angry with her for coming; she couldn’t wait to see him again, to reassure herself they were all safe.

Chapter Eighteen

Nicholas’s search failed to find a note from Warren. He paced the library, waiting for him to return, until he was forced to go up and change for dinner. As he came down, Warren arrived. Nicholas ushered him into the library and shut the door.

“Why did you go to see Vano?”

“He wanted to speak to you, but in your absence, he asked for me. I thought it wise to see what the fellow wanted.”

“What was the problem?”

“Said he saw some fellow shooting off his gun. Thought it best I alerted you.”

“Shooting at what? My birds?”

Warren shook his head. “Didn’t seem to be after the wildlife, either, or the ducks.”

“Vano has become unusually vigilant. Did he describe the man?”

“Couldn’t see him well. He wore a hat and coat. Didn’t want to approach him when he had a pistol in his hand.”

“I imagine he wouldn’t,” Nicholas said, his voice tight. Could it be Simon? “Where exactly was he?”

“Took me to where he last saw him. There was no sign of him. He’d been firing at a target set up on a tree. Not a bad shot.”

“Nothing we can do tonight. We’ll go tomorrow, see if he’s still around.”

“I’ll be ready, milord,” Warren said.

“Best we watch our backs out there.” He quickly explained about Max’s brother. If it was Simon, it seemed an odd thing for him to do. He’d looked soft and dissipated. Not one to seek physical combat, even if armed. Wouldn’t he have attempted to call on them first? And when denied access at the gate, send his card? “Go down and have your meal. My footmen will keep watch tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Nicholas raked his fingers through his hair He had a bad feeling about this. Was the man who roamed his land a danger to them? Might he plan some kind of attack? It seemed outlandish, but Nicholas couldn’t overlook it.

He sat down to dinner with Bella and Jeremy, and was pouring Lady Penelope a glass of wine from the bottle Abercrombie had uncorked and left for him when he heard a carriage on the driveway.

“What on earth?” He leaped up from the table. His butler met him at the door. “Lady Genevieve and Miss Leeming have arrived, my lord.”

“Carrie!” Bella jumped up from her seat.

“Sit down, Bella.” Nicholas turned to his guest. “I’ll go to them. Please don’t let your food get cold, Lady Penelope. This is most unexpected.”

He left the room with her appreciative chuckle in his ears. Well, at least Lady Penelope was enjoying herself. Gwen and Carrie, looking rumpled and tired, were removing their hats and pelisses in the entry hall, while footmen lugged in two trunks.

Gwen’s worried gaze sought his. “Nicholas…”

“It is entirely my fault,” Carrie said, interrupting her. “I insisted on coming.”

“If I’d wanted you here, I would have asked,” Nicholas said stiffly while attempting to ignore how inordinately pleased he was to see her. At least here, he could keep an eye on her.

“I’m aware of it,” she said in a crisp tone. “If you’ll allow us to freshen up and change our clothes, we shall join you for dinner. I’m quite hungry, and I’m sure Gwen is, too. We did not stop for luncheon.”

“I don’t know what Winston will make of this,” he said as Gwen hurried past him. “Riding about without a proper guard. And at night!”

“He won’t mind,” she said, raising her chin. “Because you won’t tell him.”

“I’ve a good mind to,” he said to her retreating back. “Two more for dinner, Abercrombie. Please advise the chef.” He turned on his heel and returned to the dining room and his cold soup. Heaven knew how Armand would react. His butler’s face dropped. Despite his concerns, Nicholas grinned.

Entering the dining room, two expectant faces aglow with eagerness turned to him. Miss Scotsdale still ate her soup, a footman hovering to take her plate. Lady Penelope had begun on the fish.

“Is Carrie coming down, Nicholas?” Bella asked, her hand on the table about to push away from it.

“Eat your dinner, please, Bella. They will be here soon.”

A meat dish and a fowl followed the fish, as Carrie came in dressed in a lilac gown. Gwen entered after her, looking as pale and weary as Carrie.

Nicholas stood. “As you see, we have a guest.”

“Aunt Penelope!” Carrie hurried over to kiss her cheek. “It is good to see you.”

“I shall feel the same about you after dinner,” her aunt said, buttering a roll.

Carrie hugged her brother and sister before seating herself.

Nicholas dismissed the footman and pushed in their chairs. “Perhaps, after dinner, you might like to tell me why you thought it necessary to come all the way to Surrey?” he asked politely as he poured wine for them.

“I am eager to talk to you,” Carrie said, narrowing her eyes.

“I’ll go home tomorrow,” Gwen said. “It will be good to see Bartholomew and Winston.”

“Of course. And Carrie’s Season? Tell me, is it abandoned or merely delayed for the time being?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Merely delayed,” Gwen said in a tired voice. “That is, if anyone still wants us to attend their balls and routs. We will miss an evening at the theatre and a picnic in Richmond Park. But I suppose we shall be forgiven for that.”

“The ton would forgive you almost anything, Gwen,” he said

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