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“Has April said anything about it to you?”

“No. When I mentioned Piers’s absence, she just waved it aside and changed the subject as if she’d barely noticed. But she does—she must do! The sun doesn’t shine for her unless he’s there, and she is so weak and vulnerable after...”

The thought of April’s travail on top of her husband’s vanishing made him pull himself together. “There’s something going on. I think the valet’s in on it, though whether as aide or villain, I don’t yet know. I went to see a few people last night, and I can’t find anyone who laid eyes on Withy after he left Petteril House at ten the evening before last. I came here determined to make April and Park talk to me and to put the fear of God into Stewart if I have to.”

Gussie nodded eagerly, gazing up at him with a blind trust that disconcerted him more than her previous disdain.

He added hastily, “Still, there has to be a reason for April’s reticence, and I think we have to respect that by not blaring our concerns to the world and starting a wildfire of gossip. We have to do this discreetly.”

He half-expected a verbal blistering in response to this staid advice, but she only nodded as though in total agreement. With her hand tucked in the crook of his arm and her apparently new trust in him lightening her worried face, pleasure and hope seeped into his own anxiety.

Pathetic, Haggard. Get a grip on yourself.

But she would be undeniably helpful in extracting the truth from April and the servants. The front door of a house opposite the Petterils’ opened and a fashionable young man in curly brimmed beaver, clutching a gold-topped walking cane, leapt down the steps in front of them.

“Good Lord, can it be Darcy?” Haggs said, amused. “At this time of the morning?”

Darcy skidded to a halt, grinning while he swept off his hat and bowed. “Miss Withan. Sir Peter. You needn’t sound so surprised—I’m a changed man, don’t you know!”

“No, I didn’t know,” Haggard said gravely.

Darcy didn’t seem to mind the teasing. He fell into step beside them. “Calling at Petteril House? I heard her ladyship was delivered of a fine son! Will you pass on my felicitations and best wishes to both? Are mother and child doing well?”

“Last we heard, everything is well,” Gussie said.

“Tried to drag Petteril off to the club to celebrate last night but apparently he was asleep.”

“I expect he was up all the night before, pacing the house,” Haggs said. “I haven’t seen him for several days myself.”

“He was at White’s last week,” Darcy remarked. “Or was it the week before? With his cousin Gadsby. Don’t think he noticed me, though.”

Darcy raised his hat and strode off, swinging his cane.

“That was last Thursday,” Gussie said. “Because Jeremy called on us the day after and told us he’d dined with Piers. Does it matter?”

“I don’t honestly know,” Haggs said, crossing the square directly to Petteril House. “I’m sure it’s only anxiety, but I can’t help thinking that everything Piers did before he vanished is important. Come on, let’s see if April is up to receiving both of us. If not, we’re depending solely on you, Gussie.”

She bestowed a brilliant smile upon him, just as he realized he had used not only her Christian name but her pet name.

“While you interrogate Park and Stewart,” she said with enthusiasm.

But when they finally entered the house, and the footman went to inquire if April was at home, the message came back that she was asleep and could not be disturbed.

Foiled.

Gussie brushed past the footman with the ease of a familiar and welcome guest, which she was in this house. It had used to be her home before the death of her father, the old viscount. “We’ll wait a little. Oh, will you send Stewart to us? I particularly want to ask him about a gift for Lord Petteril.”

“Mr. Stewart is out, miss.”

Gussie met Haggs’s gaze.

“Is Park out too?” Haggs inquired.

“No, sir.”

“Then ask him to step into the library, will you? We’ll wait there.”

***