“It seems so,” Gerard agreed with a nod. “So, ye have both been looking for Frederica and cannae find her. Am I right?”
Uncomfortable to have had his mind read so well, Allan waved a hand, silently asking Stephen to do the talking for him. Fortunately, Stephen knew him so well after so many years that he did so at once.
He explained in detail how they had been looking for where Lord Wetherington was staying in London, believing that to be their best chance of finding where Frederica had gone.
“And she’s nae at her parents’ house?” Gerard asked in deep thought, sitting back in his chair.
“She would never go back there,” Allan said with confidence. After all that her parents had put her through, of this he had no doubt.
“I checked anyway,” Stephen confessed. He shrugged when Allan looked at him questioningly. “I had to go and see for myself. Her parents didn’t know I was there. I watched the house, and when a maid came out, I asked her if she had seen Frederica at all. She’s not been seen in that house since she went for dinner with her parents, and Lord Wetherington was there.”
To hear Lord Wetherington’s name again was sickening. Allan turned on the spot, pulling at his hair with both hands.
“Ye able to sit down at all? Have ye slept since she left?” Gerard asked Allan.
“Would you if it were Charlotte?”
“No, so I cannae blame ye for it.” Gerard suddenly stood. He rounded the desk and reached for Allan’s shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing. “Halt.”
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll be nay use to Frederica if ye’re exhausted before ye have chance to commence this search properly for her. We’ll find her, Allan. Leave the matter with me, and in the meantime, ye get some rest.”
Allan blinked. The thought of being so useless — so futile in his efforts to find his wife — was sickening.
“No.” He shook his head. “I have to find her, Gerard.”
“I ken, but let me be clear on something here. Since I’ve become a part of the ton, I’ve seen time and time again how everyone kens where everyone lives in this ridiculous city. Every titled man might as well be pinpointed on the map of London. Yet Lord Wetherington? Oddly, nay one kens where he is?” Gerard paused, clearly waiting for this to sink in. “That is nay coincidence. It suggests to me that he doesnae want to be found.”
“I wondered if he was using a different house. Perhaps a townhouse away from the most affluent streets of London,” Stephen explained cautiously.
“I’d say that’s likely. I have contacts in this city. I can track him down.” Gerard nodded.
“How will you find him?” Allan asked in disbelief, scarcely able to understand how Gerard could do what he couldn’t. “I’m seconds away from walking the streets of London and just calling out her name. How is it you’ll be able to find out where they are?”
“I dinnae say I would be able to find Frederica,” Gerard said calmly. “Remember, we dinnae actually ken if Frederica is with him or nae.”
“Where else would she be?” Stephen spoke up, clearly thinking just like Allan that she had to be with Lord Wetherington, under duress.
“Then I’ll find him,” Gerard said assuredly. “And dinnae look at me like that, Allan. I was nae born a gentleman of the ton. I ken all sorts of men in this city, and some acquaintances sometimes prove to be quite useful. Just go home and leave it with me.”
He clapped Allan comfortingly on the shoulder again, but still, Allan didn’t move.
He stood like a plank of wood, staring down at the floor, furious at himself.
Not only had he failed to recognize that Frederica was afraid — and had been forced into action because of a man in her life she had been running from for well over a year now — but now, he was failing to be the one to bring her home and make her safe.
When he at last got the opportunity to talk to her, he made a vow to say what he had been too afraid to say to her before.
I love you, Freddie, and if you give me another chance, I swear, Lord Wetherington will never get within a mile of you again.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
“Do you want to go out of the house today? Or will it be another day for hiding indoors?” Honora’s voice made Frederica freeze.
She had been working on a silhouette portrait, for it had been so long since she had indulged in the activity. Despite the fact he was not here for her to sketch first and work from, she remembered Allan’s profile so well that she had created it faithfully on the black paper before she knew it.
She was halfway through cutting it out, preparing it for its white background when Honora appeared, peering around the doorway to watch her.
