Vexing the Viscount by Christie Kelley Page B

to his town home in Berkley Square, all the while wondering where she could have gone. Based on where she’d been staying, she couldn’t have much money left. Her friends had deserted her. She had no one here. Guilt assuaged him. Perhaps if he hadn’t treated her so poorly last night she might have stayed willingly, but he’d been a complete ass with her.
    Still, she should have told him where she was going!
    The door opened as he approached. The black mood that had surrounded him earlier returned.
    â€œDid you find her, my lord?” Nelson asked in a cautious tone.
    â€œDo you see her with me?” he replied acerbically.
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œSend Mrs. Abbott to me immediately.” He walked the long corridor to his study. “And bring some tea and food.”
    â€œYes, my lord.”
    Braden wanted to pour a large glass of brandy but knew doing so on an empty stomach would not help him find Miss Featherstone. Instead, he sat down behind his large walnut desk and tapped his fingers on the wood. He was perplexed by her actions. Staying here ensured her safety. After his meal, he would return to the Goat’s Horn Inn and if she wasn’t there, he’d do as he had before and systematically call on every inn until he found her.
    â€œMy lord, you wished to see me?” Mrs. Abbott stood at the threshold, nervously playing with her apron.
    â€œYes, Mrs. Abbott, please come in and close the door.”
    The poor woman’s face went whiter than the first snow of winter. He supposed he should put her mind at ease, but after the day he’d had due to her poor judgment, he figured she deserved a little worry. “Sit down.”
    She nodded and then sat in the chair across the desk from him. “My lord, I am dreadfully sorry. She promised me she would just walk to the park and return before noon. If I had ever thought she would run off, I never would have let her go alone.”
    â€œAlone? My instructions were she was to have breakfast in her room and wait for the seamstress to bring her some proper clothing.”
    â€œYes, my lord,” she mumbled, staring at her feet. “I shall pack my things.”
    â€œI don’t remember asking you to leave, Mrs. Abbott.”
    She looked up slowly, her brown eyes as large as saucers. “Thank you, my lord.”
    â€œHowever,” he said sternly, “I do expect you to follow my orders.”
    â€œOf course, my lord.” She nodded her head vigorously. “It will never happen again.”
    â€œSee that it doesn’t.”
    Mrs. Abbott left quickly, as if afraid he might change his mind. After the footman brought his tea and some food, Braden contemplated the situation at hand. He now had to find two people since the Bow Street runner he hired had discovered no signs of Jonathon in London. It was as if both Jonathon and now Miss Featherstone had just disappeared into the air. But Braden knew they had to be somewhere and London was the most likely place for both of them.
    He was determined to find them both. And when he found her, she would regret the day she thought to thwart him.
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    The next fortnight flew by even as Tia was beginning to feel like a prisoner in this beautiful house. Emily had decided she would introduce Tia to the limited Society still left in London in September. Every day Tia endured fittings for dresses, dance instruction, and etiquette lessons. She had never imagined the life of a lady could be so tiring.
    They started at eight in the morning and continued nonstop until luncheon. If Tia were lucky, Emily would tire and need a nap, giving Tia her only break. Once Emily would wake from her nap, they were at it again. Emily explained to her that since most of the ladies of the ton would have learned all this over the span of a few years, they had to learn this all in a fortnight.
    â€œCome along, Tia,” Emily said, leading her to the ballroom for dancing instruction.