Part of his affinity toward her was because he understood her. Hadn’t his father stripped him of his thoughts and opinions? He’d been told what to think and feel—or rather, not feel—from his earliest memories. Was he so different from Grace, still trying to decide what he liked or disliked?
She turned to face him. “Each day I’m here, I realize how much he controlled my life in so many respects.”
He couldn’t help himself and reached out to hold her upper arms, loving the feel of her soft skin, but even more, wanting to offer her reassurance. “You are moving forward.”
“I am.” She lifted her chin. “Each and every day.”
The sound of a throat clearing from the doorway had them both turning toward the sound.
The butler stood there, his brow creased with concern. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, my lady, but Master Matthew has gone missing.”
Grace’s heart stopped. A loud sound rang in her ears. Surely, she’d misheard Paxton. “What?”
The nanny who’d been so good with Matthew the last two weeks appeared at Paxton’s side. Her eyes were red from crying, and she gripped her hands so tightly her knuckles were white. “I am so sorry, my lady, but I can’t find him anywhere.”
The feel of Tristan’s hand on her arm anchored her, allowing her to breathe through the cold panic that flooded her.
“Surely he is somewhere in the house,” Tristan suggested. “He liked to explore when you were staying at Crawford House.”
“We’ve had the servants searching the entire house.” Paxton shook his head. “We haven’t yet located him. It isn’t like him to not answer when we call.”
“Would he have gone into the garden for some fresh air?” Tristan asked.
“We checked there and found the gate to the street unlatched. That is when we came to you.”
The nanny started crying silently.
Grace couldn’t think. Nor could she believe this was happening. Matthew never would’ve left on his own. He’d been cautious when they’d lived in the country but was even more so here. They were both still adjusting to living in London.
“Did he say anything that might give a clue that he was considering venturing out?” Tristan asked.
Grace had never been more grateful for Tristan’s presence. His calm voice and thoughtful questions were welcome, especially since she didn’t have the capacity for either.
The nanny drew a shuddering breath then frowned as though thinking over past conversations. “Not that I can think of.”
Grace wanted to shake her and demand she think harder. But who was she to say anything when she had no ideas either?
Tristan turned to her, and she could see the question in his eyes. She could only shake her head, much like the nanny. She’d spent time with him this morning but he hadn’t said anything nor had he acted in an unusual manner. Yesterday she’d been so busy preparing for the ball that she hadn’t truly listened when they were together.
Hands trembling, she covered her face, hoping to halt the sobs that threatened. She couldn’t lose Matthew.
Tristan drew her into his embrace. “No need to worry quite yet. We’ll find him. A boy of five years can’t go far.” He leaned back to look into her eyes. “Why don’t you wait here while I search with a couple of footmen to see what might have caught his interest if he left through that gate?”
“I’m coming with you.” Grace drew a quivering breath, blinking back her tears, trying to hold back the ball of panic that clawed at her throat. This was her worst nightmare—losing Matthew. “As you said, he can’t have gone far.”
Paxton hurried away to gather the footmen while Tristan and Grace rushed out the terrace door.
She glanced about frantically. “Matthew? Come quickly, please.”
She whispered a prayer that he’d answer but heard nothing more than the chirping of birds—an unwelcome sound in this moment.
Just when she thought she was doing the right things to ensure her son’s safety, this happened. All the horrible things Charles had said—that she didn’t know how to properly raise a viscount—were true. She was a terrible mother.
“Matthew!” Tears were frozen in her throat as she searched between shrubs and behind trees, hoping her son would stand, declaring with a proud smile that he’d hid well.
But her hopes were dashed as she arrived at the open garden gate where Tristan, Frederick, and another footman looked up and down the lane.
Grace’s trembling lower lip revealed just how close she was to breaking down. Tristan could only imagine what she must be going through. Thus far, there was no sign of the boy anywhere.
Though he’d acted as calm as possible in front of her, Tristan’s worry increased with each moment that passed. Where could Matthew have gone? Had he truly walked away, or had he been taken? Could Stannus have managed to lure him out of the garden? Tristan shook his head, determined not to believe that until evidence suggested it.
“Grace, do you see anything out here that might’ve caught Matthew’s interest?” He tucked her hand under his elbow, lending her strength, hoping his question distracted her.
He tried to see the area as the boy might—someone unfamiliar with the city but curious enough to venture out. What might catch his attention?
After looking about, she shook her head. “How far is it to Hyde Park from here? He enjoyed our ride there tremendously. Might he have returned for a visit?”
“It would be quite a distance on foot. Thirty minutes. Perhaps even more for a boy.” Tristan had only seen Matthew briefly since their ride. He’d thanked Tristan for taking them to the park and inquired as to what else it had to offer.
Could Grace be right? The thought terrified Tristan. As far as it was, there was a good chance he’d lose his way.
They’d ridden the horses last time, which had shortened the time it had taken to travel there considerably. That might have caused Matthew to believe he could get there on his own.
“Let us take my carriage toward the park,” Tristan suggested, gesturing for the footmen to follow them. “Perhaps we’ll see him along the way.”
They hurried to the front of the house where Tristan told his driver of their mission. “Everyone remain on the lookout for him.”
In a short time, they arrived at the park. Standing on the running board so he could better see, Tristan directed the driver to go the same direction they’d previously ridden. Surely, Matthew would go where the terrain looked familiar. Grace watched out the carriage window, calling Matthew’s name.
Though Tristan tried to remain calm, fear made his movements jerky, his heartbeat rapid. The park was huge—over 300 acres of hills, valleys, forest, and water. There were six different entrances, several lodges, including the home of the late Duke of Wellington.
Where would Matthew go if he were here? Into the trees? Near the Serpentine River?
He thought back over their conversations over the past few weeks, deciding the water was the more likely option. It wasn’t far from where they’d ridden together. After directing the driver there, he hopped down from the carriage and opened the door to assist Grace. “Spread out and start looking for him,” he told the footmen. “Her ladyship and I will search by the river.”
“Yes, the water might attract him,” Grace agreed. “Matthew?”
They walked along the bank, calling Matthew’s name, hoping he’d respond. They hadn’t gone far when a rustling sound from some nearby shrubbery caught their attention.
“Matthew?” Grace called.
Hope warred with worry as they waited.
“Here.” A small form rose from amidst the shrubs.
Matthew. Relief nearly buckled Tristan’s legs.
With a cry, Grace raced to him, dropping to her knees to pull him into her arms.
“Are you all right?” Tristan asked as he joined them.
Matthew’s head was buried in Grace’s shoulder, muffling his reply. “Yes.”
Anger poured through Tristan.
He clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing the child and shaking him. “What are you doing here? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”
Matthew looked up from beneath his lashes, reminding Tristan of Grace. Tristan focused on the pair, allowing the calming feelings they brought forth to help shove the rage back into the box in a corner of his mind.
Tears filled the boy’s big eyes, and he rubbed his nose with his coat sleeve. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Why did you come here by yourself?” Grace asked. “You need only ask and one of us could’ve brought you.”
“Cousin Charles said that a real lord ventures out on his own. That if I wanted to grow up to be strong, I needed to have my own adventures.”
Grace gasped in response, and Tristan’s rage leaked back out of the box. This time, it was directed at Stannus.
“When did you see Charles?” Grace asked.
“He came to the garden gate. He said he’d just been speaking with you. Didn’t you see him?”
“No.” Grace looked at Tristan, holding his gaze for a moment before turning back to Matthew. “You’re not to speak with him if you see him again. Do you understand? He lied to you.”
Tristan couldn’t wait to get his hands on the man. But right now, these two needed him.
With much effort, Tristan reined in his anger, trying to think clearly and determine how best to help Matthew. The only male the boy had to model himself after had pointed him in a dangerous direction.
Tristan took a knee to look Matthew in the eye. “Does it make sense to you that a boy should go out by himself?”
Matthew thought about it for a long moment then shook his head. “I was scared. At first, I thought it might be fun as Cousin Charles said it would be. Then I got scared.”
“Why didn’t you return home?” Grace asked, her arms still wrapped around her son.
“I wasn’t sure how to get there.” He glanced toward where they’d entered the park. “It all looks alike from here. When I heard someone coming, I hid.” He reached out and took Tristan’s hand in his, even as he held tight to his mother. “I thought I heard my name, but I didn’t think you could’ve found me.”
Tristan squeezed his hand gently. “I’m grateful you heard us.” He debated what more to say to Matthew. He didn’t want to overstep his bounds yet felt compelled to guide Matthew when he had the opportunity. “You were brave to step out of your hiding place to answer.”
The little boy held his gaze. “I was pleased it was you calling. I was afraid Cousin Charles was searching for me.”
Tristan noted the fear had yet to leave Grace’s expression. While he couldn’t always be there to protect Matthew, maybe he could give him some advice that would help the boy protect himself.
“Do you like your cousin?” Tristan asked.
His lips pursed as he considered Tristan’s question. “Not really.” He glanced at Grace. “I’m sorry, Mama, but he’s not nice. When he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes.” He looked back at Tristan. “Not like yours.”
Tristan’s heart gave an unexpected tug at the innocent words.
“Is it all right for me to say I don’t like him?” Matthew asked, his brow furrowed.
Grace hugged him again. “As long as you’re speaking to one of us, you should always be honest when we ask your opinion.”
The little boy nodded earnestly.
“Do you feel comfortable around Charles?” Tristan continued, wanting to make his point. “Do you like to spend time with him?”
Once again, Matthew pondered the question. “I don’t like to be with him if Mama isn’t there.”
“You have excellent instincts.” Tristan held his gaze, trying to find a way to make him understand. “Sometimes a part of us deep inside knows the right thing to say or do. It’s important that you listen to that voice, especially if it tells you that you’re in danger.”
“Like when Cousin Charles told me I needed to go into the conservatory but I didn’t want to, and I shouldn’t have because a snake was in there?”
“Oh,” Grace gasped as more tears filled her eyes.
Tristan clenched his jaw as anger at Charles overwhelmed him again. “Yes. Exactly like that. Perhaps something in Charles’s expression or voice made you realize it was a bad idea.”
Understanding came over Matthew’s expression, and he nodded again. “The gardener said it was an adder and that they’re poisonous.”
“Yes, it was. I’m not sure your cousin has your best interests in mind,” Grace added.
More than anything, Tristan wanted Matthew to start listening to his instincts. “I urge you to carefully consider anything he says to you. Listen to your heart and to your mother. Let them be your guide.”
“Yes, I will.” Matthew looked back and forth between them. “Are you both very angry?”
“What do you think?” Grace asked.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“You are smart for someone so young. Your mother is lucky to have you.”
Matthew grinned at Grace.
Tristan smiled at the pair as he assisted Grace to her feet. He leaned toward Matthew and whispered loudly, “If I were you, I’d continue to apologize and promise you’ll never do something like this again.”
“Yes, I will.” He hugged Grace for a long moment. “I truly am sorry, Mama.” Then he looked up at Tristan. “Thank you for coming to look for me.”
“Just don’t make me do so again.”
“No, my lord.”
Holding Matthew’s hand, which linked him with Grace, Tristan led the way back to the carriage. He held her gaze for a moment, nodding as she said ‘thank you’ silently.
After he saw son and mother settled at home, he intended to increase his efforts to find Stannus by fair means or foul. The man would pay for all he’d done to Matthew and Grace.
Chapter Fifteen
“Each meal in winter consists of a pint of nutritious soup, and a sixth of a four-pound loaf of good bread; and in summer one quarter of a pound of cheese, and the same proportion of bread.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Grace stood at the door of the nursery that evening after kissing her sleepy son good night, unable to close the door and walk away.
She’d hugged him so hard that she’d nearly squeezed the breath out of him more times than she could count since they’d found him. And she’d cried great big sloppy tears so frequently that she was surprised Tristan hadn’t turned tail and run from her excessive display of emotion.
Matthew had been both exhausted and hungry from his adventure. The three of them had spent the evening together as she hadn’t been able to bear having her son out of her sight, nor did he seem inclined to leave her side. It had been an idyllic family night—one that made her heart ache with the sweetness of it.
Aware of the maid’s understanding regard, Grace at last nodded at the woman and closed the door. The knowledge that Tristan was waiting for her was the only thing that prompted her to leave.
Suddenly in a rush to see him, she hurried down the stairs and arrived in the drawing room breathless.
Tristan glanced up from the couch, a crystal glass dangling from his fingers with a trace of brandy still in the bottom. He raised his brow in question as he rose. “Is he sleeping?”
“He was nearly asleep before his head hit the pillow.” She clasped her hands before her, wondering how she could possibly express her gratitude for all he’d done to help her find Matthew. Once again, a lump lodged in her throat and tears filled her eyes.
He set the glass on the side table and quickly approached her. “What is it?” His hands on her arms only made the tears come faster. “Grace? Tell me.”
She shook her head, not certain she could possibly explain. “I only wish I could express how grateful I am for all you’ve done.” She bit her lip in an attempt to contain her emotions. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today. Matthew might still be missing if it weren
’t for you.”
“Nonsense.” He drew her gently into his arms. “You would’ve found him, or he would’ve made his way back to you.”
For a long moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the comfort he offered, absorbing some of his strength. At last she leaned back to look up at him. “How can I ever repay you?”
“I’m just pleased he’s home safe. That is the only reward I need.”
She drew a trembling breath, trying to gather her emotions into some semblance of order. Lifting a hand, she wiped her cheek. “You’ve seen me cry more today than you ever wanted to, I’m sure.”
His grey eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t name. “You’re beautiful even when you’re sad.” He trailed his fingers along her cheek. “But your smile lights up your entire face.”
The warmth of his touch comforted her but also sent a tingle of awareness down her spine. The look in his eyes made her heart race. Her gratitude shifted into something else—desire. It warmed her from the inside out.
She stiffened, trying to rein in her feelings. They were probably a side effect of the day’s upheaval. And they had no place in his life. He was engaged and she mustn’t forget that.
“Thank you for everything.” Rather than meeting his eyes, which had suddenly become too dangerous, she kept her gaze on his mouth.
That proved treacherous as well. She well remembered the feel of those firm lips against hers. She hadn’t realized kisses could be quite so...delicious.
Daniel’s had been too soft and too damp. But Tristan’s kisses turned her inside out. Staring at his mouth only made her want to feel it against hers again. Why couldn’t she control herself when he was near? He was engaged and—
He captured her lips as though he’d never get enough of her.
She released a breathy sound in the back of her throat, part moan, part gasp, a noise she was quite certain she’d never before made. She couldn’t find the wherewithal to be embarrassed about it.
“You taste so sweet,” he muttered then kissed her again and all thought fell away.
His hand swept down to caress her throat, lingering along the neck of her gown. The touch of his bare fingers against her skin was heavenly.
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 16