Page 50 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“I . . . I am fine. I . . . have a headache is all.”

Georgie glanced at Bella and rolled her eyes. “Some people never learn how to lie convincingly,” she whispered. “Which is good in cases like this one, because then you know something untoward is going on.” Cocking her head, Georgie again addressed herself to the person behind the door. “I am so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Seton. Shall I have Cook send up some tea and toast? Some willow bark tea, perhaps?”

“No . . . no, thank you. I . . . I need to be by myself and wait for—” Silence descended, as though the woman had actually vanished.

“Mrs. Seton?” Georgie called. No sound had emerged for at least a minute.

“Do you think she swooned?” Bella pressed her ear to the door. No sound of stirring at all and then . . . faint sobbing. “She’s crying.”

“One does not weep over a headache.” Georgie’s knowing tone gave Bella a chill. “Something is definitely amiss.”

“What do you suppose she’s waiting for?” The fanciful image of poor Mrs. Seton staring out at the gathering gloom, awaiting some apparition, like the Bleeding Nun in the romance novel The Monk, made her shiver.

“Most likely her husband, who has not been seen today, apparently. He wasn’t with our party, nor was he at dinner tonight.” Georgie bit her lip. “I wonder where he’s been.”

“So actually three people are missing?” Perhaps Bella’s flippant remark about kidnapping to Lord Harold was closer to the truth than not.

“It would seem so. Mrs. Seton? Will you open the door, please?” Knocking wildly on the door, Georgie stared at Bella and gasped. “What did Lady Prudence say about Mr. Seton?”

Frowning in an effort to remember the lady’s words, Bella closed her eyes, seeing the older woman’s pinched face when talking about the Seton men. She’d paid keen attention to her words so she could pass it all along to Lord Harold. “She said almost all of the Seton men had multiple sons, except for Kinellan’s uncle, who had the one son, Rory Seton, who was Lord Kinellan’s heir.”

Georgie’s eyes widened and she renewed her frenzied knocking. “Mrs. Seton! Where is your husband?” She seized the door latch and rattled it, but it was locked. “Where is Mr. Seton?”

The only response was a renewed sobbing, loud enough to be heard clearly through the stout door.

Taken aback by the frantic look on Georgie’s face, Bella grasped her arm. “What is wrong?”

“A great deal if my suspicions are correct.” She shook off Bella’s grip, grabbed her skirts, and ran down the corridor back toward the main staircase.

Confused and now unaccountably alarmed, Bella tore after her. “Georgie, wait for me.” If three people had gone missing in one day, did that mean more might do so as well?

* * *

Having cursed all the way back from Loch Kinellan, Matthew arrived at Castle Kinellan still fuming. He jumped down off Lucifer, thrust the reins into the hands of a waiting groom, and strode into the castle to find a sorely needed drink.

They’d searched for the better part of two hours, scouring the perimeter of the loch, calling out for Kinellan and Jane until he was almost hoarse, but to no avail. They’d split into two groups, one following the near shoreline, the other the far side, but when they’d met at the northernmost point of the loch, no one had heard or seen a thing. Hope waning, he’d suggested they continue around the loch just to make certain no one had missed the lost pair, but his heart had been heavy the entire rest of the search.

A quick look told him the library’s decanters were topped up, so he entered and grabbed the brandy. The sweet, smooth taste of Kinellan’s favorite cognac first soothed Matthew, then saddened him. What if they never got to enjoy this vintage together again? The search party hadn’t seen so much as an inkling that Kinellan or his horse had passed by the loch. True, it had been difficult to see, but had either Jane or his friend been conscious, they would have heard them calling. What if they never found out what had happened to them? No, by God, he would renew the search at first light tomorrow. Expand the search. Find out if there were other bodies of water—a pond, a river, a bog even—that might have prompted Kinellan’s request to the cook.

As the rest of the search party straggled into the library, Matthew swallowed down the the contents of his glass and poured another. He’d best go tell Fanny they’d had no luck but would be heading out again in the morning. His wife would be distraught that her friend had not been found, but he would reassure her that he and the other gentlemen would do everything they could, scour every inch of Kinellan land until they found them.

Wrotham and Granger joined him, each with a glass in hand. Their wives would likely be even more distressed, for Jane was kinsman to both.

“What do you propose to do now, Lathbury? Ride out again in the morning?” Wrotham, a navy man for many years, looked grim. His tone said he held out little hope of finding the two. But being lost in the woods was not like being lost in the water. Matthew would give his best friend more than a good chance at staying alive. Kinellan was an extremely resourceful man. And if Jane’s life was held in the balance, the man would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

“Yes, at first light. I’ll consult Grant on other possible haunts Kinellan might have liked to visit.” Matthew clenched his jaw. He hated not having all the pertinent information at his fingertips, but he’d not visited Castle Kinellan but once a year, during grouse season, and then they’d stayed right at the castle the entire time. Their conversations had mostly been confined to shooting, horses, drink, and women. Until today he’d never even heard of the Heights of Braie or Knockferrel. What other sights might Kinellan have taken Jane to enjoy? There could be dozens for all he knew.

The drumming of running feet brought his head up with a snap as Fanny rushed into the library, the rest of the ladies at her heels.

“Matthew, thank God you’ve returned.” She ran straight up to him, then paused to cast a quick look about the room—for what he wasn’t sure—then grasped his arm and pulled him close to her. “My dear, you must come. We suspect something is terribly amiss with Mrs. Seton.” Her gaze shifted around the room again and she lowered her voice even more. “Something to do with Kinellan’s and Jane’s disappearance.”

“What are you talking about, Fanny?” Matthew hardly ever dismissed his wife’s notions, but he was weary and more than a little concerned about Kinellan at this point. “Who is this Mrs. Seton? There were half a dozen Setons here all week.”

“Mrs. Rory Seton.” Fanny’s gaze bore straight into him. “The wife of Kinellan’s heir.” She paused, her exasperation with him plain on her face. “The man who’s apparently been missing all day along with Kinellan and Jane.”

The news took Matthew aback as he attempted to make sense of them. “There’s been a third person missing today?”

Fanny let out a prolonged sigh, then grabbed his hand. “Come with me. We’ve no more time to lose.” Tugging him out of the library, his wife made for the main staircase with all speed.