The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  Piers motioned me through the ballroom door, and we made our way into the throngs of people. He kept a look of indifference across his face, but he couldn’t deceive me, not completely. Some part of him had hoped to be acknowledged by Kendal. It would have gone a long way toward salvaging his reputation, but Kendal would not be so kind.

  I considered each hard face around us. Years had passed since the fateful moment Piers had been labeled a coward, and yet polite society in East Whitloe would never forget. I could only imagine what he’d suffered through while I was away—all for me.

  He tried a smile. “Would you do me the honor of the first dance? After that, I daresay I shall retire to the card room as I shan’t burden any other partners.”

  I lifted my chin. “I shall be pleased with a dance of course, but there will be no card room for you after that. You must wait with me until I can approach Lord Kendal for our walk in the garden. I’ve no intention of dancing with anyone else this evening either.”

  Piers rubbed a chalk drawing on the floor with the toe of his pump before moving close to my ear where I would be sure to hear him. “I don’t need your pity if that’s what this is. I’m not a lost puppy, you know.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” I pinched his arm. “Trust me, I’ve had quite enough smiling and nodding over the years. If anyone wants to secure my affections, they can very well do so off the dance floor and out of this maddening noise.”

  A smile creased his lips, and he leaned in once again. “Are you trying to make me believe you don’t like dancing?”

  “I simply like hearing what people are saying, and the older I get, the less and less patience I have for pretending.”

  He paused this time before returning close to me. “You know, I didn’t think it possible, but I believe I like you even better since you’ve returned from Ceylon. That adventurous spirit of yours has turned into a shrewd one, and God help the man who tries to harness it.”

  As Piers pulled back, I could hardly look at him, let alone breathe. What did he mean by such a statement? Perhaps Mr. Cavanagh was right about my effect on Piers. He had found a way to shake off his isolation, and it had loosened his tongue.

  He offered me his arm as the noise of the room barreled into our conversation. “Shall . . . take a turn . . . the room?” He leaned in close once again. “I’d like to give everyone their chance to cut me at the outset. That way I can focus on the task at hand. We’re here for Seline. All the rest of this is simply a distraction.”

  I’d never experienced the full censure of polite society, not until then—the searing glares followed by the turn of the shoulder, then the comments, spoken just loud enough for others to hear. We’d only crossed the length of one wall before Piers was forced to halt our progression, bending his head to ask me if I thought it wise to continue as his partner. He did not want to completely ruin my reputation in a matter of minutes. But he didn’t understand the emotions broiling in my chest. Quite frankly, I didn’t understand my desire to spite them all, to find some way to defend him.

  After my attack I’d closeted myself away in my family’s home in Ceylon. I thought that somehow my friends and acquaintances would take one look at me and know instantly what had happened, yet here I was holding the arm of a man who bore his own public humiliation with dignity and grace. It may have taken him a few years to do so, but the courage he displayed was freeing—not only for him but for me.

  I urged Piers onward across the room. The dancing would begin soon, and quite suddenly I was looking forward to sharing the moment with him—for it wasn’t only his moment of triumph; it would be mine as well.

  The musicians in the balcony cradled their instruments, poised to begin the first dance. Piers found my hand as the performers struck up a short march signaling the dancers to take the floor. Honora Gervey called out a waltz, and the lull of the crowds wafted into the background, my heartbeat pounding its way to my ears.

  Though the waltz had been introduced at Almack’s last year, I had yet to perform the steps in company. I shot a glance at Piers and he gave me one of his rather entrancing smiles, that perfect mix of humor and anticipation. Thank goodness I’d agreed to join him.

  The collective gaze of the people in the room prickled down my back as I placed my left hand on his upper arm, my right touching his gloved fingertips, but Piers swiftly grasped my entire hand. The subtle change brought a rush of warmth to my cheeks and my eyes to his face. I’d heard the various debates about the waltz—the degree of personal familiarity that rendered it liable to abuse—but I hadn’t understood the arguments. Not really. Not until that moment. Not until I met his eyes.

  Various couples took their places around us and the music began. The steps were slow at first and my feet felt almost sluggish, but Piers kept me moving and smiling. He maintained his promise and said nothing as we twirled around the dance floor; however, something more important passed between us—the first spark of uncomplicated happiness.

  Awash with nerves, I felt tears forming in my eyes as the small discovery blossomed in my heart. This was what I had been yearning for; not Piers exactly, not simple attraction to a man, but a connection, something real, something secure. I swayed to the music as the tempo increased. For the first time in five years, I felt alive.

  The music ended all too quickly and the lines returned to Piers’s face. He pulled me into the shadow of one of the columns. “Now is the perfect moment to approach Honora. Do you think you can get Lord Kendal to ask you to dance?”

  I sank against the wall. “I don’t know. He seemed amiable enough when we arrived, but I can’t help but worry.”

  “I’m going to make my way over to Honora during the next dance, hoping I might delay her afterward. She wouldn’t dare take a turn with me on the dance floor, but she owes me a conversation at the very least.”

  “And that is when I should seek out Lord Kendal?”

  He nodded, but his eyes seemed to say just the opposite.

  “You don’t think I’m in any danger, do you?”

  He rested his hand on my shoulder as if he were privy to my secret. “I won’t let you out of my sight. Not for one solitary moment.”

  He meant to encourage me, but the gravity of his words only caused my fear to escalate. Could I do this? Could I wander the gardens with a gentleman I barely knew? The calm I’d felt only moments before on the dance floor disappeared into thin air, my muscles tightening in turn.

  What was I thinking coming here, acting as if it was so long ago? Everything about my relationship with Piers was complicated, and he had problems of his own. True intimacy would always be a great unknown for me. I was a fool to think otherwise.

  He’d told me he had no intention of taking a wife, but convincing his heart might be an entirely different matter. Piers and I had been drawn to each other since we were children. Nothing would change that but time and space, and the only way I could bring myself to leave Loxby Manor was to uncover what happened to Seline.

  I took a measured breath. “I’ll get Lord Kendal to speak with me, one way or another.”

  We shared one last long look before setting off on our separate missions.

  Seline had been in love with Lord Kendal for as long as I could remember. He was suave, handsome, and titled, and he’d never spent one minute thinking of me. So why on earth would he ask me to dance? He’d never done so before.

  Chairs squeaked in the corners of the room. The musicians rearranged their instruments in the balcony. Boots scuffled across the floor as the roar of conversation pressed against my ears. Where was Lord Kendal? I scanned the throngs of people milling in every direction before a stream of cloudy moonlight caught my eye, pouring in through the floor-length back windows, illuminating our illustrious host. I flicked open my brisé fan. It was now or never.

  Carefully I pretended to search for someone in the crowds as I made my way closer and closer to the earl, stopping but a step away. I took a few calculated glances across the dance floor be
fore settling my hand on the edge of the white wainscoting circling the room.

  Lord Kendal watched me for a moment before rather slyly edging closer. His expression remained one of haughty indifference. “Lost your escort?”

  I batted my eyes as I’d seen Seline do hundreds of times before. “Not at all. I was merely looking for Avery Cavanagh. We arranged a dance, and I’m afraid he may have forgotten.”

  There was a bend to Lord Kendal’s dark brow, followed by a heart-wrenching second of indecision, but I simply waited for him to appraise me, hoping my ploy would not go awry.

  Finally he gave a sigh of amusement, his attention narrowing in on my face. “Well that will never do now, will it?”

  I had to stay close to him if I was going to hear his words accurately. “It is neither here nor there. I suppose I shall simply have to sit this one out, unless you can suggest an alternative.” I moved as near as I could while staying within the bounds of propriety.

  Of course the sudden familiarity I’d been forced to create inadvertently played to his never-ending vanity. A wry smile slid like satin across his face, and I was reminded of how easily Seline’s charms could get under one’s skin.

  He offered me his arm as if he was doing me a great favor. “Would you do me the honor instead?”

  A strange mix of emotions hit me as I accepted his offer. I suppose a part of me was giddy—the young dreamer from long ago who was rarely given any attention, particularly by a noted Corinthian. Over the years I’d grown and changed. I was no longer a slave to societal expectations, not really. I’d seen the dark side of a person, and I would carry the scars for the rest of my life. Fear, anger, disillusionment—all fought for the balance of my attention.

  And then I looked up. Lord Kendal was just a man, and Piers would be watching us—he’d promised me he would. My body stiffened, but I affected an innocent smile. “Would you prefer to take a turn in the gardens instead? I believe I need a breath of fresh air.”

  Piers had timed his own walk perfectly. As Kendal took a sideways glance at the terrace doors, he was struck dumb by the sight of Honora embarking on her own garden stroll—with Piers, no less. Kendal’s eyes narrowed and the grooves in his chin dimpled as his jaw clenched. Yet he was far too practiced at deception. His evident shock subsided as quickly as it had come, and he casually touched my hand. “I daresay I could stand for a stroll myself.”

  He redirected our path toward the French doors with a sharp turn, and a lady and gentleman were forced to jerk out of our way. Kendal thrust the left side of the door wide, and we erupted into Whitecaster’s renowned garden, swept silent by the quiet hand of night.

  On the terrace stood a couple in deep conversation, and to their right, a pair of friendly bachelors, but there was no sign of Piers and Honora. I took a long breath of dampened air, the stilted breeze abuzz in my ears. The rolling gray mist had thickened over the course of the evening.

  We descended a row of wide stone steps, which narrowed around a circular pond and disappeared between dense hedgerows. I’d heard Lord Kendal’s garden hailed on more than one occasion to be something quite special, but I couldn’t remember exactly why.

  I narrowed my eyes, straining to see down the curvy paths that split in all directions. No budding flowers or manmade ponds, simply greenery as far as the torchlights could illuminate—so much like the tea plantation in Ceylon. A prickly chill filled my chest and my legs began to feel heavy. Where precisely did Kendal mean to take me?

  The bushes grew taller the farther we walked, plunging the path into feathered darkness. I thought I heard Kendal swear under his breath, and strangely enough, his doing so comforted me. Kendal slowed his steps as he came to the same conclusion I had. Piers and Honora had found a way to be alone.

  Chapter 20

  What a strange garden.

  Each turn in the thick hedgerows brought another path exactly as the last.

  Then I remembered. All the greenery, the winding paths were a maze. Whitecaster Hall was known for its small, intricate maze at the back of the property. I’d heard Seline describe it years ago.

  One last corner and we came across a moonlit statue of Venus. Lord Kendal seemed hesitant to walk any farther from the house. “I thought perhaps Piers Cavanagh had come this way, but he’s nowhere to be found.”

  I rubbed the chill from my arms. So there was to be no pretense between us. I glanced once more behind me. “I’m not certain which way they went, but rest assured, I know Mr. Cavanagh to be an honorable man. I doubt he came this far.” Granted, we had.

  “Honorable.” Lord Kendal laughed. “I beg to differ on that point.” Then his face grew quite still as he drew a circle with his finger in the air. “Was this some sort of arrangement between the two of you? You distract me while Cavanagh takes a turn with my fiancée?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Then what are we doing out here, Miss Halliwell? Because I don’t believe for a second you needed a whiff of fresh air.” He spoke calmly enough, but his eyes were like daggers in the darkness. “Did Seline send you?”

  I hesitated to answer as a stray gust of wind sent the leaves on the bushes quivering. A whisper of caution? Perhaps. I’d rehearsed what I might say over and over again in my room, but nothing could have prepared me for the expression on Lord Kendal’s face or the way it would make me feel.

  I stumbled over my next words. “I-I did wish to speak with you about . . . well, Seline, but not in the way you suppose.”

  He picked a dried leaf from the sleeve of his jacket. “I have nothing further to say about Seline.” He made no move to leave.

  “I—” This would not be easy. Lord Kendal and I were practically strangers, yet at the same time we shared a connection through Seline. Standing there alone, buried in the heart of the maze, caught in Kendal’s dangerous glare, I knew I could not fob him off with a manufactured lie. I let out a long breath. The truth was always best. “Seline never came home after your society meeting at Kinwich Abbey.”

  The moonlight betrayed the scowl that took shape on his face. “What do you mean she never came home?”

  “Just what I said. A rumor has been circulated that she is ill, but the truth is she’s been missing since that night.”

  His mouth slipped open, his eyes growing wild as he searched the bushes for answers.

  I stepped forward. “There was a letter found in her room stating she had run off with Miles Lacy, that they were bound for Gretna Green.”

  His head tipped back slightly, followed by a pointed huff. “But that is—”

  “Impossible.”

  “Well, yes. Miles Lacy is here this very night in my stables, and trust me, I’d know if Seline was with him.”

  “It is my understanding that you were the last person to speak with her the night she disappeared. And it was an argument.”

  He dipped his chin. “When do we not have an argument?”

  “If I may ask, what was she angry about? I’m attempting to piece together everything that happened that night, and your point of view is vital if I’m to figure out where she has gone.”

  He crossed his arms. “So you think I might have something to do with her disappearance?”

  “That is not what I said, but surely you see that I must question everyone, particularly the person she specifically went to see that night.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. “The little minx thought she had me at last. Her excitement was palpable.” He cast me a sideways glance. “She liked to hold little secrets over us—all of us. Hugh, Tony, Avery. No one was left out of her little web. Of course Hugh always thought he was different—that she was being honest with him. He’d scored some sort of promise out of her. I, thankfully, had not been blessed with such a burden.” His gaze flicked to mine and held. “Believe me when I tell you, she did not know about Honora that night.”

  I played with a stray leaf on a nearby bush as I pondered his story. “You said she thought she had you. What do you mean
?”

  He shrugged, but the lines on his face only deepened. “She had a plan to trap me into marriage. She seemed to think she’d found out something about my upcoming curricle race, something she could use against me.”

  The exchange I’d overheard at the abbey echoed in my mind. “I believe the word you are looking for is sabotage.”

  His eyes rounded. “Curious little thing you are. Now who told you such a farradiddle?”

  “I overheard a conversation that seemed to suggest—”

  “Oh, you did, did you?” A smile crossed his face, but it wasn’t a comfortable one. “And you really think, as a member of the Four Horse Club and a notable whip myself, I need stoop so low?”

  Arrogance, it seemed, was like a second cousin for Kendal, and it flashed its way to the surface on a bolt of lightning.

  I’d hit a nerve. He began to pace. “You can take your curst insinuations and leave my house this instant—with your escort.” He stopped suddenly to grasp my arm. “After all, he’s the master of avoiding anything unpleasant.”

  Caught up in Lord Kendal’s wave of anger, I let him drag me like a dog to the corner of the hedgerow where, like lightning, a fist sprang from the shadows, striking him square in the face. I had to jump away to avoid his limp body as it flopped onto the gravel like a sack of flour.

  Honora screamed.

  Piers shook out his hand, a curve gracing his lips. “I think Kendal is right. It might be about time for us to leave, Miss Halliwell.” He turned to Honora, his eyes more determined than I’d ever seen them. “Miss Gervey, you may accompany us back to the house, or we’ll be happy to send someone back to help you.” He flicked his fingers in the air. “And your illustrious fiancé.”

  Piers offered his arm, but Honora refused, trouncing off in the direction of the house, an expression of pained irritation across her face.

  Fighting my own level of shock, I tried to keep my voice low, but it was nigh impossible. “What were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t like how he was manhandling you.”