“Where was it?” she asked.
“Just inside the tree line. He would have found it easily.”
“Someone has him.”
“It’s a possibility, but they would have had to been waiting. Who knew you were coming out here?”
“No one. It was a spontaneous decision. But we have come here before, so anyone watching us might have predicted it. I just can’t believe he wouldn’t have made some sound or struggled.”
“No sign of struggle in my area. You?”
She shook her head. “No sign of him having gone that way at all. No footprints, no disturbances.”
“Not on my end either. You went one way and I another. But Johnny entered between us.” He pointed straight ahead. “Through there.”
She started forward, but he grasped her arm. “Let’s think about this logically.”
Lucy blew out a breath. “We don’t have time to think.”
“There’s always time to think,” Duncan answered.
“Iknewyou would say that. Is there anything Mr. Glass has said that you won’t parrot?”
“The man is a master at surveillance, and he marked you down for impulsivity more than once.”
“Now is not the time to throw that in my face. Besides, Mr. Glass was thinking in terms of our foes, who are adults. Little boys don’t think logically.”
Duncan’s head jerked up and Lucy frowned at him. He said, “That’s it. We must think like a six-year-old.”
“That shouldn’t be hard for you.”
Duncan seemed to ignore her. “He enters the wood but doesn’t see the ball right away because it’s a bit to this side. So he starts to look and then becomes distracted—”
Or is taken, Lucy thought, but she didn’t say it. They’d know soon enough if that was the case.
“What would distract him?”
“Snakes, frogs, insects,” Lucy said immediately. “All the creepy-crawlies.”
“Is there water nearby?”
“The Thames, but it’s that way.” She pointed off into the distance. “Still, it did rain last night. There might be a large puddle or a small pond.”
“Let’s go.” Duncan took her hand and pulled her behind him and through the trees.
***
LUCY KEPT UP WITH HIM. He might have released her hand as she clearly didn’t need his support, but she hadn’t pulled it away, and he rather liked touching her. He would have looked at her, made sure this moment was actually happening, but there was no time for that. Except then she tucked the hem of her skirts up, revealing a good deal of calf clad in white stocking. Time seemed to slow down. He spotted one pink garter at her knee. Of course, it had to be pink. Pink seemed to be her favorite color and thinking of her wearing pink garters and perhaps a pink corset under her drab, black nanny dress made him rather breathless.
She said she liked a scoundrel, and a scoundrel would have looked and not been coy about it.
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut and told himself to focus. He was an agent first and always, and he’d be damned if he would lose his charge today or any day.
“I smell it,” Lucy said. “Wet leaves.”
Duncan sniffed. “Yes. This way. Johnny!”
“Johnny!” Lucy called. “Answer right now or there will be no apple tart for dinner.”
