Chapter Eight
“Surely you must see that if Lord Llewellyn left town as soon as you questioned him about the painting, he must have something to hide! We must
do
something, Galen,” Melanie cried plaintively.
“Davie, lad, if you do not climb down from there soon, your brothers will find the muffin man before you do.” Locke casually hooked his arm over the back of the bench and gazed up into the canopy of leaves where a barely discernible urchin could be seen in the uppermost branches.
“I vow, I don’t know which of you is the most exasperating.” Throwing the golden couple on the bench a look of irritation, Arianne left Davie to Galen’s casual auspices and went after her two youngest brothers, who had heard the call of the muffin man and given chase.
Galen continued his tree-gazing as he spoke. “Do you think she includes me in that rash declaration?” he asked laconically, giving no sign of his heart-stomping fear as the boy in the branches began a rather rapid descent.
“Arianne has already cut up stiff with me, so I daresay we are both leveled with her siblings by now. Do you suppose you ought to stop Lucinda from standing between the horses like that?”
Galen attempted to turn one eye on the skinny female patting the noses of his cattle while keeping the other on the harum-scarum lad in the branches. It was a wonder he did not come up cross-eyed from the effort, he reckoned as Davie reached the final branch and appeared ready to jump the remaining ten feet.
“If you break your leg, I’ll leave you lying for the pigeons to eat,” he warned as he removed himself from the bench to rescue Davie from his perch. To his surprise, Melanie followed after him.
“That’s a dreadfully rude thing to say to anybody, but I shall assume you didn’t include me in your admonitions.” Melanie waited patiently for Galen to extract the child from the tree while keeping her own eye on her younger cousin and the horses.
“If you should be so foolish as to climb a tree and break a limb, you deserve for pigeons to eat you,” Galen retorted as he lowered Davie to the ground and let him loose. The boy went careening off across the grass to cut off his brothers at the curve, and he turned his attention next to the carriage horses. It had become more than evident that Melanie had her mind set on other things besides the children, and Galen couldn’t help but wonder at the sudden obstinacy of her behavior. Melanie had never been of an obstinate nature.
He threw a glance toward the sway of Arianne’s heavy skirts as she followed her brothers. Now, there was an obstinate miss.
“You have become quite impossible anymore, Galen. You will be as stodgy as Gordon if you keep this up. Once you would have offered to ride out after Rhys, or at least you would have promised me an ice while you think about it. Now you won’t even think about it. I thought Rhys was your friend.”
After briefly instructing Lucinda on the temperament of high-strung thoroughbreds and promising to allow her the reins briefly on the return home, Galen sent the girl after her sister and began following more sedately in the same direction.
He was more than aware of the beauty attached to his elbow, her summer skirts fluttering in the breeze, her fashionable hat perched coquettishly on her head as she berated him. He had known Melanie the better part of her life, watched her grow from willful tyke to lovely woman. He knew her every whim and mood and felt more than capable of dealing with them. But at the moment he felt like turning her over his knee and spanking some sense into her.
“Rhys is my friend, which is why I’m trying to stay out of his business. Not that you make it easy for me,” Galen grumbled.
“What if he’s
in trouble?” Melanie whispered, expressing her worst fears.
Galen sent her a curious glance. “Rhys survived a war and a wound that could have killed many another. I shouldn’t think he would be in any danger crossing the English countryside in chase of some wild goose.”
Melanie sent him a scathing glance, dropped his arm, and gathering up her skirts, raced after her cousins. Galen had half a mind to return to his carriage and wait for them there, but the sight of a crisp blue skirt swinging toward the gates eliminated that thought. She had escaped from him once like that; he wasn’t likely to allow it again.
Striding rapidly after a tall, slender form wearing a less-than-elegant rose-trimmed hat, Galen gave up the pursuit of any rational thought. Soon, he hoped, he would have a wife and children of his own. In the meantime, he could practice by holding tight rein on his intended’s heathen cousins.
* * * *
Melanie tightened the ribbons of her hat, checked to be certain she had her reticule with her quarterly allowance, and nodded briskly at her nervous maid. The girl picked up the one bag Melanie had allowed them and quietly followed her mistress down the front stairs.
With the master gone to listen to the speeches in Parliament and the lady of the house upstairs napping—the whole household was expecting an announcement any day now of the future arrival of a bundle from heaven—no one was about to notice their quiet descent. The staff would be about their business elsewhere in the house at this hour. Lady Melanie had chosen the best time for making her escape.
Not that Melanie considered it an escape. Evan and Daphne were more than generous with their time and understanding, but they did not seem to understand the necessity of helping Rhys. Her brother was Rhys’s best friend, but even he did not consider it necessary to send anyone searching for him.
Rhys’s villainous uncle could have had him pushed over a cliff or drowned in a river or any other of a dozen dastardly punishments to keep him from reclaiming his title. And even if Rhys were well and his uncle hadn’t found him, he would need help in prying the necessary information out of relatives who had lied too long to be persuaded easily. She was much better at persuading people to talk than Rhys.
Rhys was so smart it was almost scary sometimes, but he spent too much time with books and horses to know how to deal well with people. She would help him discover the truth, and then he would have to acknowledge that she was no longer a child but a grown woman.
That thought filled Melanie with satisfaction as she ordered the coach to take the north highway. Lady Jersey had said that Lady Llewellyn now lived in Carlisle. She had family there, any of whom might know the secret of Rhys’s birth. It would be better if she knew the family of Rhys’s mother, but there seemed to be much confusion over that matter. Perhaps Lady Llewellyn could tell her. If she had left her husband over his deception, then surely she had to be on Rhys’s side and would be willing to help in any way she could.
This wasn’t the first time Melanie had taken off on her own. She knew Gordon would be furious with her when he found out, but she really could manage quite well. Daphne would understand that and would persuade Evan to come around when she found the note she’d left behind. It was a nuisance having twin brothers who fretted and pretended she was still a child, but her sister-in-law had done much the same when she was the same age, and she would know that no harm could come to a lady traveling safely in her family coach.
Unknown to Melanie, her sister-in-law had social obligations to fulfill that afternoon and was gone when a servant discovered the note pinned to her pillow. It was Evan to whom the note was carried, and it was Galen’s arrival that had prompted Evan to send for his sister. When Evan was presented with the note instead, he stared at it in such profound puzzlement that Galen relieved him of it and raised a lofty eyebrow as he read.
“I suppose one of us shall have to bring her back. Does this happen often in your family, Griffin? I can see the Richards brats have a definite tendency for havoc, but I rather thought that was because they were young. Perhaps it is a family trait, after all.”
Evan sent his elegantly idle friend a look meant to level. “Stow it, Locke. Melanie is young, but not foolish. Obviously we have been ignoring a problem that is very much on her mind. If I were you, I wouldn’t be so confident that it is your suit she wants. She has always idolized Rhys, but I hadn’t thought it went this far.”
Galen discarded his unconcerned pose to hand the note back to Evan. “You have a meeting with the Regent. I’ll go after her. Will your wife be able to accompany me to act as chaperone?”
Evan hesitated. “We have not made the announcement yet, but Daphne is increasing, and the carriage motion makes her ill. Perhaps I’d better go. I could ask Uncle Ross to go with you, but I’m not certain that you would be any better off listening to his eccentricities than to Daphne’s upheavals. And to send Ross off on his own would be futile; he would be sidetracked for a visit to some gallery along the way
,
and we wouldn’t see him for a week.”
Galen picked up his hat and cane and started for the door. “If I am to wed your sister, I might as well learn to deal with her fits and starts as well as your relations. My carriage is already out front and Prinny will be expecting you. Go on. I’ll find Richards and have Melanie back by nightfall.”
Evan wasn’t at all certain that it was wise to unload the burden of his scatter-witted family on his good-natured friend, but Galen wasn’t giving him any time to argue. Besides that, Evan’s wife and child-to-be depended on him for a living, and he depended on Prinny’s good favor to keep that living. It had been easier being a soldier.
Instead of entering the carriage, Galen leapt to the driver’s seat and tore the whip from the hand of his startled driver. He knew the way to the Richards home much better than the coachman, and if truth would have it, he could drive it better and faster than his employee. Unprotesting, the driver let him have his way. It didn’t make sense to argue with your employer, particularly when your employer was twice the size and angry enough to pop a cork.
The distance from Grosvenor Square to the little house past St. James’s wasn’t great, but the way was crowded with ladies in carriages out for an afternoon’s shopping and gentlemen on horses making calls. Galen ignored their cries of surprise and anger as his team careened down the widest thoroughfares, dodging carts, carriages, horses, and pedestrians alike. Perhaps Evan could be casual about his sister’s going off on her own, but Galen had no such frame of reference. His own activities had been strictly limited at that age, and he hadn’t been a fashionable female prey to the dangerous denizens of a world outside his own. He didn’t even want to imagine the first time Melanie stepped out alone into one of the notorious roadside inns along the way.
Ross Richards was never at home. Galen should have known he wouldn’t be. He stalked impatiently up and down the dim parlor as the little maid who answered the door ran to fetch Mrs. Richards. He should have known better than to expect Mrs. Richards to come down alone, also. He looked up to find Arianne’s anxious blue eyes fixed on him, and he began to sweat.
“I only meant to inquire where I might find Mr. Richards. It is a matter of some urgency ...”
Mrs. Richards was a tall woman, nearly as tall as Arianne, but years of bearing children had given her more fullness than her daughter. Were it not for the circles beneath her eyes and the slight cough she tried to hide, she would not appear at all the invalid Galen had expected. He bowed politely over her hand and urged her to a chair, but she refused.
“My husband could be in any of a number of places, my lord. He could appear here at any minute or in hours. I am sorry to be of such little help. Is there anything we might do?”
Arianne studied Locke’s harried expression with perplexity. He was not the type inclined to undue emotion. He took most of the acts of mankind in stride, dismissing all but his own concerns as irrelevant. He had been a trifle perturbed by the loss of the painting, but only because it brought his honor into question.
Now he was striding up and down the room with an excess of energy much as Melanie would do.
Melanie
. Arianne choked back a gulp of fear and gently took her mother’s arm.
“Perhaps I can give Lord Locke some idea where the best places are to find Papa. Why don’t you return upstairs and let us try to sort this out?”
Anne Richards looked mildly annoyed, but noting the relief on Locke’s face, she nodded. “I’ll have Lucy bring tea. Please have a seat, my lord. Arianne knows my husband’s habits better than I do.”
When she was gone, Arianne swung around to confront their anxious visitor. “What has Melanie done now? I knew she would not let the matter rest, but usually she gives me some inkling of her plans.”
Galen had not come prepared to face the angry miss who had instigated all this turmoil by purloining her father’s painting, but pride didn’t prevent him from realizing that Arianne would be the best source of knowledge of Melanie’s actions. He hesitated only briefly. “Melanie has gone in search of Rhys’s aunt. She has some fool notion that she will better persuade knowledge from the woman than Rhys.”
Arianne’s vague smile didn’t reach her eyes as she contemplated the consequences of this statement. The man in the room with her was obviously violently opposed to Melanie’s impetuous behavior. Against the gloom of the dusky parlor, his white cravat gleamed with the brilliance of moonlight, but his frown decimated his usual laughing image of a golden god. Hat still in hand, he strode to the draped window and shoved the heavy material aside to stare into the street.
“Melanie is more than likely right in her assumption, but that is no excuse for her behavior. I suppose we must go after her. Do you have some idea where this aunt resides?”
Startled, Galen let the drapery fall and turned to stare at the quiet young woman gracing the room’s center. Uncapped, her thick hair was caught up in loose swirls that softened the sharpness of her cheekbones and emphasized the luminosity of her eyes. She looked more than competent to take on the assignment of finding her cousin, but that did not change the fact that it would be highly improper for her to go out in his company. Annoyed at the restrictions that assumed every man was a rake and every woman a man’s target for lust, Galen shoved his hat back on his head and started for the door.