A Dangerous Nativity

Chapter 8, Scene 3

"I thought I might find you here." Glenaire spoke as he sank into a leather chair in Eversham Hall's study, a male bastion of dark leather, lingering cigar smoke, and unread books.

Will grunted and drained another glass of brandy. He reached for the bottle and found it empty. "Ring for another one. There's a good fellow."

"Rather rushed your fences back there."

"I made a mull of it. Tomorrow, I have to go back to the beginning and court her all over again. She never even opened her gift."

"What was it?"

"Silk gloves, useless on a farm. I meant to tell her there's more to life than Songbird. That probably wouldn't have gone well, either."

"Did you follow her?"

"To her room? What do you take me for? The lady wanted to be alone."

"Did you at least tell her you love her?"

Will choked. "The Marble Marquess suggests sweet words of love to court a lady? I thought you believed love matches disgrace the participants and taint noble families with weakness."

Glenaire shrugged. "You want what you think your parents had: home, hearth, and love of the land. You don't need a dynastic marriage."

"Like you do?"

Glenaire acknowledged the truth with an inclination of his head.

"Oh, God, Will!" Sylvia burst into the men's refuge and threw herself at her brother. He hardly had time to register that she had called him by his Christian name, when she told him, "He's gone. Charles has run off!"

Chadbourn calmed her enough to get the story. She went up to the nursery to say goodnight to her son. "I mean to do it every night now. Emery said it made him weak but—"

"Easy, Sylvia. You went up, and then what?"

"His bed lay empty. And I found this." She waved a scrap of foolscap.

               Mother, don't worry. Catherine ran away, and it is my job to protect her. I will find

               her and bring her back.

              Charles

Will looked at Glenaire. "Catherine bolted. I have to go after her."

"Charles is out there in the dark, Will. You have to find him," Sylvia cried, clutching his lapels.

The marquess pulled Sylvia away from Will. "Go," he said. "I'll look after Her Grace." Glenaire grimaced while the duchess wept into his pristine neckcloth. "Shall we ring for tea, Your Grace?" he asked.

***

Catherine hugged Charles to herself. They stood in Songbird's barn, where Catherine helped rub down Lady Guinevere.

"You were brave to ride here, Charles."

"I had to. I had to. I didn't care if I fell. You ran away, and I had to tell you I'm glad you're my sister. Glad. Please give it time, Catherine. I promise to be a good brother. Maybe it won't be so bad to be my sister. Truly." In the damp night, his voice sounded thick and desperate.

"You thought I left because I didn't want to be your sister?"

"My father wasn't a good man. He did bad things. I don't blame you for being sorry he's your real papa." He swiped at his cheeks.

"Oh, Charles, that part doesn't matter. Your uncle Arthur is my real papa in every way that matters, and he's a very good man. I have a good life here at Songbird Cottage."