"My Lord, I'm sure her ladyship will be down any moment."
"My daughter is here. I know she is. Take me to her this instant!"
"If you would care to wait in the library—"
"Damn and blast man! I'm not waiting anywhere! I'll find her myself. Come along, George."
"Father, perhaps—"
"Perhaps nothing, come with me."
The butler's refusal to answer had only confirmed Walter's belief that Flora was indeed hiding somewhere in the house. With Carstairs hurrying behind him doing his best to politely protest the intrusion, Walter strode across the foyer and opened the first door he came across. It was a small reception room and it was empty. Charging down the hallway he opened the next. It was the drawing room, and spying the tea service on the table in front of the roaring fire he raised his walking stick in the air.
"AHA!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Tea in the drawing room at this hour? She was here, or rather she is here and undoubtedly hiding."
Walter's voice had boomed through the house, and hearing it Anne had hurriedly finished dressing. Chiding herself for not anticipating the earl's early arrival, she prayed Flora had left the drawing room in time. The house was large, but Flora had spent enough time there to know which rooms led where. If she was clever and fortune was on her side, she should be able to dart around enough to avoid being discovered. Moving swiftly down the passage to the top of the stairs, Anne stared down into the foyer. Lord Braithwaite was marching about and waving his ornate cane, demanding that Carstairs take him from room to room until his daughter was found. Anne let out a breath of relief. Flora must have left the drawing room in time.
"My goodness," she exclaimed as she descended the stairs. "Walter? What is all this fuss about? I heard you mention Flora. What's happened?"
"Don't you play innocent with me Anne Barkley. Flora is here. I know she is."
"I have just finished dressing. If your daughter is here it's news to me. Carstairs, have you seen his lordship's daughter?"
"I'm afraid I haven't, my lady. I have tried to explain—"
"Then to whom were you serving tea so early?" Walter demanded. "Who serves tea in the drawing room at this hour?"
"My guests and the times of their arrival are of no concern of yours, and I'd be obliged if you would stop shouting. Flora is very dear to me. If she is missing, I can assure you I will do my best to help locate her. When did she disappear?"
"You are not being truthful, my lady. I shall return with the constable and have this house searched."
"You will have to provide legal authority to do such a thing and you have no proof Flora is here, or has been here. I will be happy to show you through my home, but when it is apparent Flora is not here I will expect an apology."
As she reached the bottom of the stairs and moved closer she could see her offer had surprised him. She could also see the worry in his eyes. The man may have been rude and dictatorial, but he was a father in search of his runaway daughter, and while he may have been the reason behind Flora's desperate escape, Anne began to feel sorry for him.
"Walter, I really am very sorry you're so upset," she said softly. "As I said, you and George are welcome to wander through my home, but perhaps your time would be better served sitting down with me at the breakfast table. Perhaps we can figure out why this has happened, and then set out trying to find her. She's a very resourceful young lady. She might still be in your house. Have you thought of that?"
The suggestion brought a deep frown to Walter's brow, and she could see George fighting a smile.
"Father, leaving us a note and then hiding somewhere in the house would be just like her."
"Perhaps, perhaps," Walter muttered.
"Please, won't you come and sit with me. You'll give yourself a heart attack, Walter, and that wouldn't help Flora one bit."
"Very well," Walter said gruffly. "You probably know her friends better than I do."
"Carstairs, please set places for our guests. George, isn't Flora close to that young lady you were spending so much time with last night? Millicent Palmer?"
"Yes, they're very good friends."
"Have a cup of tea and something to eat," Anne said as they entered the dining room. "When you leave you could swing by Millicent's house, but you should first make sure Flora isn't still at home."
"That's a good idea," George agreed as they sat down. "If you like, father, you could search our house and I could call on Millicent."
"You said something about a note. What did it say?" Anne asked innocently. "It must have given you some idea of what was going through her head."
"I'd rather not discuss that," Walter grunted. "Tea. You're quite right. Tea is what I need. A strong cup of tea and a bite to eat to settle me down. Please accept my apologies for causing such a ruckus. It's not like me. It's not like me at all."
"I'm sure you're just very worried, and knowing Margaret she probably told you to find Flora and not return home until you did."
"Quite!" Walter nodded as Carstairs placed a cup of tea in front of him.
"I intend to scold Flora severely for scaring us," George declared. "I do love my sister, but this behavior is entirely unacceptable."
"Flora may have a mind of her own," Anne said fondly, "but she must have been very distressed to scare you all. I'd find out the reason behind this before judging her."
Studying their faces, Anne could see her words had hit home, and she prayed Flora was safe in one of the rooms in her house. God forbid she'd done something stupid, like run out into the storm. The weather was dreadful, and where could she possibly go?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Flora could hear voices, but none she recognized. She was freezing, her head was hurting, and she wanted to open her eyes but they refused to budge.
"I think she's coming around."
It was a woman. Was it her mother? Her mother…why couldn't she visualize her mother?
"I think you're right, yes, I see movement."
It was a man's voice, gentle and soft, with a hint of an accent.
Using a great effort she tried again to lift her eyelids. She could feel them cooperating, and as they finally fluttered open she spied an older woman staring down at her, but Flora had no idea who she was.
"Thank goodness, there you are," the woman murmured. "You poor lamb. You had us very worried."
"It's all right, you're safe. You had a fall."
A man was speaking, and roaming her gaze she spied a pair of warm brown eyes. As his face came into focus she thought him the handsomest man she'd ever seen, and he was familiar, but she was struggling to place him.
"Where am I?" she managed. "Why am I so cold?"
"You've been in the rain," the woman replied. "When the storm passes we'll call for a doctor. In the meantime we'll keep you warm and give you plenty of nourishment and hot tea."
"We need to know your name," the handsome man said. "Can you tell us? We must let your people know you're safe."
"M-my p-people?"
"Mrs. Davis, more blankets and bring her something hot to drink. She's shivering so badly she can't speak."
"I f-feel p-poorly…"
"Hush now. Don't try to talk," he said kindly. "You can tell me your name later, though I must say I'm eager to know who you are. You're quite a mystery."
"B-but I d-don't r-remember h-how…"
"You don't remember how you fell? I had just returned home and was hurrying from my carriage to my front door, and you came around the corner and bumped into me."
Flora frowned as she tried to recall the incident, but her head was pounding and it hurt even more when she tried to think.
"What were you doing out in the rain with no coat or hat?"
"I, uh, d-don't know."
"When you fell your head hit the footpath and it's left you with quite a bump. I'm sure that's why you're a bit confused, but you must have been running away from something, and when you remember you must tell me right away."
&
nbsp; Running away.
The words echoed through her mind. They sounded right, but why?
"My name is Zane De'Ville," he continued. "You're in my home in Mayfair. You mustn't worry. My housekeeper Mrs. Davis will take very good care of you until we're able to get to the bottom of this. You rest now, and I'll be back to check on you."
He was sitting in a chair next to the bed, and as he rose to his feet a shard of panic sliced through her body. She didn't want him to leave. She wasn't sure why, she just couldn't bear the thought of it.
"P-please…d-don't g-go."
His handsome face stared down at her, and as he settled back into the chair she let out a grateful sigh.
"Th-thank you."
"Why are you so scared?" he softly asked, his voice filled with concern. "Can you tell me?"
"I d-don't know."
And she didn't. She was at a loss. She couldn't remember anything and it was frightening. A sudden wave of heat flooded the back of her throat and tears began to spill from her eyes, but the kind handsome man named Zane leaned over and tenderly wiped them away.
"Hush, you're safe here. The bewilderment will soon pass, but shall I give you a name until you can tell me yours? May I call you Fleur? It means, flower, and you are as pretty as any flower I have ever seen."
His inviting brown eyes were shining warmth into her very soul, and as he gently took her hand she nodded her agreement. He could call her anything he chose. His palm was soft and smooth, and though she was still cold and her head still hurt, she could feel her fright beginning to ease. She let out a heavy breath, and the handsome man smiled down at her.
"That was a good sigh, and here is Mrs. Davis with the extra blankets and a hot mug of one of her special concoctions."
The thought of a steaming drink was immensely appealing, but as Flora struggled to sit up she realized she was dressed in a long flannel nightgown.
"You were soaked through," Mrs. Davis said quickly, seeing the look of worry on Flora's face, "but no-one else was here when I got you out of your wet things."
"I must leave for a moment," Zane interjected, "but I'll be back shortly."
"Promise?"
"Yes, Fleur, I promise."
"Fleur? Is that your name dear?" Mrs. Davis asked, placing the large cup on the nightstand.
"Until we know otherwise," Zane replied as he left his chair and ambled to the door.
With a last smile he disappeared, and as the caring woman laid the extra blankets over her, Flora glanced around the room. It was exquisitely decorated in lemon and white, a painting of a beautiful dapple grey horse hung on the wall directly opposite her, and everything looked brand new.
"There you are, Fleur, drink this down," Mrs. Davis said handing her the mug. "It will help you relax. You need to rest."
As Flora sipped her teeth stopped chattering, and she could feel the chill slowly seeping from her body.
"Mmm, it's good," she murmured. "Is that brandy I can taste?"
"It will warm you."
"It's already warming me. Thank you. I wish I could remember things."
"You will," Mrs. Davis said reassuringly. "You've had a nasty bang on the head, but you'll come right."
Finishing the delicious drink, she handed Mrs. Davis the empty mug with a grateful smile.
"That did wonders. May I ask what was in it?"
"Warm milk, brandy, honey, and a little cinnamon to help your circulation."
"You look better," Zane said as he reappeared and moved to the side of the bed. "I can see you're not so scared."
"Thank you so much for taking care of me. I'm sorry I don't remember anything. How long have I been here?"
"Not long at all," he replied as he settled into the chair. "You woke up just a few minutes after Mrs. Davis helped you into bed."
"I feel so tired."
"I'm not surprised. You should rest now. I'm sure when you wake up things will be much clearer."
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"
"It would be my pleasure."
"I love that painting," she mumbled, looking at the wall directly in front of her. "What a beautiful horse."
"Do you ride?"
"I don't remember. If I do I hope I have a horse that looks like that. A mare, a sweet dapple grey mare."
Zane smiled. It was the request of a small child, yet she was a beautiful young woman, one who had been brave enough to dash through the rain to escape from…what? He longed to know, and when he found out who had caused her to do such a thing, he would personally take them to task with a vengeance.
CHAPTER FOUR
Forty-Eight Hours Later
Standing in front of the fireplace in his library, Zane stared down at the mesmerizing flames. The lovely young woman he'd named Fleur had fully recovered, at least physically, and would be joining him for dinner. Though she continued to lament that she remembered nothing Zane had his doubts. Whenever he asked her if she had any recall, her face would turn pink and she'd gaze down at her hands. While the blush and evasive stare could be attributed to her confusion, he suspected she simply wasn't ready to share her secrets and she didn't know how to respond.
She was clearly of noble birth. Her refined speech reflected it, her complexion was like porcelain, and her manners were impeccable. Her clothes were of the highest quality, and she'd been wearing an impressive necklace around her neck and bracelets on her wrist. Two days and two nights had passed and he was sure the household from which she'd come would be very worried. How could he track them down? He had considered bringing in the authorities but he was concerned about creating a scandal, and without knowing her circumstances calling in the police might open up a hornets' nest.
It was nearing the dinner hour. He'd been out of the house most of the day, and as the hours had ticked by he'd enjoyed the prospect of returning home to see her. Leaving the library he made his way to the drawing room, and opening the drinks cabinet he found a fine Bordeaux, one of many he had brought over from France. He enjoyed uncorking a good wine, and as he peeled off the wrapping at the top of the bottle, inserted the corkscrew and pulled the cork, he paused.
"I wonder if a glass of this will help you let down your guard and loosen your tongue," he murmured. "It's certainly worth a try. Perhaps some cheese and bread to go with it? Yes, just the thing."
Leaving the wine to breathe, he walked across the room and pulled the bell cord. Bancroft, his butler, arrived in moments.
"Bring in a selection of cheeses and breads, and send in Mrs. Davis."
"Yes, my lord."
Returning to the drinks cabinet he poured the Bordeaux into a glass, and was swirling the wine and inhaling the bouquet when Mrs. Davis entered the room.
"You wanted to see me, my lord?"
"I assume Fleur is still able to join me for dinner?"
"She is, she's looking very well."
"Please have her come down and join me as soon as she is ready."
"I'll go up now and help her dress, my lord."
"Merci."
He watched her bustle out, then sipping the wine he closed his eyes, savoring its richness and thinking about the lovely young woman upstairs.
"I feel compelled to learn your secrets, Fleur, and help you through whatever drove you into the tempest. One way or another you will share them with me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
After helping Flora dress, rather than try to style her hair, Mrs. Davis suggested it be left long and loose around her shoulders.
"I rather like wearing it this way," Flora said as Mrs. Davis ran the brush through the long locks, "though I know it's not proper."
"You remember that much," Mrs. Davis remarked. "That's a good start."
"Uh, yes, I hope so. It sort of, fell out of my head."
"And more will come to you as time goes by, I'm sure. Are you ready?"
"I am, though I wish I had a change of clothes. I'm not sure what to do about that."
"Discuss it with his lordship
. He'll have a suggestion. He always does."
"His lordship?" Flora repeated. "I haven't heard you refer to him that way before. Is Zane a lord?"
"I'm not sure what he is, except I know he's from the French nobility. I call him sir, and my lord, and he hasn't corrected me."
"I shall ask him. I'm curious to know more about him. He's been so kind."
"I suspect he's even more curious about you."
"Uh, yes," she replied feeling strangely embarrassed. "I can understand he would be, stumbling into him the way I did."
They left the bedroom, and as they walked down the hall towards the stairs Flora tried to calm her nerves. She remembered exactly who she was and why she'd left her home. She recalled the dreadful early morning walk through the rain to Anne's house, and how she'd bolted when her father had arrived, and the hellish run through the storm. She remembered it all, but if she told Zane he would feel obliged to take her back. She did want to put her family's mind at ease, but how could she be sure her father had come to his senses? It was all a big mess.
Her thoughts were churning, but as she entered the drawing room she caught her breath. The handsome young aristocrat was dressed in a simple black suit, but underneath she could see a patterned burgundy and gold vest over a white shirt, and around his neck was a stunning gold puff tie with a pearl stud. His dark hair, usually pulled behind his head, fell all the way to his shoulders, and as she approached she noticed long dark lashes framing his captivating brown eyes. Everything about him was alluring, and she had a sudden desire to feel his arms around her.
"Good evening, Fleur, you're looking well. You had a pleasant day I trust?"
"Good evening, Zane, thank you, I did. I read a most interesting book in your wonderful library, and Mrs. Davis took me on a tour of your home. It's beautifully decorated, and you have so many rooms."
"I suppose I could have purchased a smaller home, but I find many rooms keeps one from becoming bored and there is also a practical concern. I have relatives and friends that may visit. I'll need somewhere to put them."
Master Zane Page 3