18

322 36 1
                                    

Roderick checked his pocket watch for the thousandth time in the past hour—not an exaggeration, he was sure—and shoved it back into the pocket it resided.

Then, heaving a sigh, he returned to scowling out his carriage window at the red brick terrace house Rufus and Elphi called home.

A young gentleman approached—the seventh visitor that day—and Roderick was tempted to yell that it was a wasted effort, but he bit his tongue and watched him knock, wait two minutes, and get sent on his way by Rouse.

Lord and Lady Treadway weren't there.

Hadn't been for the past six hours.

Roderick knew this because after what could only be called an abysmal nights sleep and waking at half-past five, Roderick had dressed and found himself standing in Elphi's room.

Why? He had no clue.

And neither did he intend to find out. He'd only remained there a few minutes before wandering to Jeremy's empty room and then going to his study, where he was determined to be productive until breakfast.

However, concentrating on even menial tasks without food in his belly had never been his forte. So he'd left after only twenty minutes and roamed the halls, scrutinizing all the ancestral portraits adorning the walls as though he'd never seen them before. Because, to be honest, he hadn't.

By the end of his self-imposed tour, Roderick realized two things he'd never taken the time to consider before.

First, other than an unfortunate-looking ancestor dressed for the courts of King Henry VIII, he came from a long line of handsome fellows.

And second, an inordinate amount of the color brown surrounded him throughout—from the wallpapers to the furniture to the decorative wood trims and moldings. When coupled with the ferns Elphi was so fond of and had scattered in practically every room, he may as well be living in a forest.

Mercifully, he was saved from further pondering by the clock chiming it was finally time for breakfast.

Striding into the dining room like a man with a divine purpose and an appetite of three—no, make that five ravenous men—Roderick plucked up his plate from the table set for one and stared at the less than usual bounteous amount of food laid out on the sideboard.

It was a subtle change, and there was still enough to meet his regular breakfast habits. Mrs. Miller, their cook, knew him well. But it was a big enough difference when coupled with the lack of Elphi's place setting that immediately made his appetite plummet, and all he consumed after an hour sitting at the table was half a sausage and one piece of dry toast.

Disgusted with himself and more than ready for a change of scenery, Roderick shoved away from the table with a huff, intent on seeing if his sister regretted marrying Rufus yet and ruining their plans for the day.

When his carriage rolled to a stop near the curb at precisely nine o'clock, Roderick alighted with the poise and bearing of a king. He even knocked. Twice. And waited for Rouse to open the door.

There had been such shock on the unflappable butler's face when he found Roderick standing there. It had nearly made up for his terrible morning—until Rouse informed Roderick that Rufus and Elphi were out and not expected to return until much later.

"Where did they go?" Roderick asked, entertaining the idea of possibly following after them.

"On an investigation to Kernwith Hold, My Lord," Rouse murmured. "Shall I inform—"

"No," Roderick interrupted with a quick shake of his head and an apologetic smile for his curt tone. Then, he cleared his throat, "Thank you, Rouse."

"My Lord," Rouse said with a slight nod before closing the door.

Haunted HeartsWhere stories live. Discover now