While not handsome by society’s standards, his square-cut features and glittering eyes expressed vigor and determination enough to conquer the world. His nose had been broken at some stage, and his jaw looked to be chiseled from granite.
He was far and away the most daunting creature she’d ever encountered.
Still, that rugged face was strangely fascinating. It was a wrench to look away toward Greaves. Whatever happened next, she’d shared enough private business with the servants for one night. “That will be all, Greaves.”
Her butler warily eyed Mr. Townsend. “It might be prudent if I stay, my lady.”
Mr. Townsend was at least thirty years younger and a good four stone heavier than her butler. Although she appreciated Greaves’s gallantry, Fenella’s voice firmed. “I believe our visitor has forsaken his impulse to violence.”
As she’d intended, her remark brought a pink tinge to Townsend’s tan. Heavens above, he looked like he’d spent his life baking under a tropical sun somewhere out in Sumatra or the Cape Colony.
Once they were alone, Fenella folded trembling hands in her lap. She battened her fear for Brandon deep down inside her and set out to wrest control of this meeting from her visitor. She might want to scream and weep, but she was her son’s only help. After five lonely years of widowhood, that role was familiar enough to be second nature. “Tell me everything.”
“I became my nephew’s guardian about six months ago.” To her relief, Mr. Townsend had calmed considerably. “My brother William and his wife Jenny drowned in a yachting accident last summer.”
Henry’s death had made her tragically familiar with grief. She heard the unspoken pain behind Mr. Townsend’s prosaic explanation. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I was in Canton at the time.”
Fenella hadn’t been wrong about his travels. “Canton?”
“The family runs a trading concern. You’ve probably heard of us.”
With a shock, she realized that he must be part of Townsend and Co. In fact, something about his air of command led her to guess that he was Townsend and Co. “You’re Anthony Townsend?”
Even in aristocratic circles, Anthony Townsend’s enormous fortune aroused envy. If she wasn’t in such a spin about Brandon, she’d have made the connection earlier. The Townsend trading empire spanned the globe and influenced the destiny of nations.
He frowned. “Didn’t you know?”
“You neglected to introduce yourself, sir.”
Another faint flush. In circumstances less dire, she’d almost enjoy putting this arrogant creature to the blush.
“I beg your pardon. Again.” He leaned forward, dangling big hands between thighs like tree trunks. The chair squeaked in protest at the movement. Good Lord, he was a giant. “I assumed you’d made the connection when you talked about Carey. You clearly know my nephew.”
“Only that he’s the sportingest cove ever born and a right royal fine fellow. My son didn’t consider his family of any importance.” Despite herself, she smiled fondly. She was happy that her son made such a good friend—or at least she had been, until Carey Townsend persuaded Brand into this rash escapade.
Mr. Townsend sighed again. “That’s pleasing to hear. I like to think the lad has some spirit—although today’s madness hints at a little too much. I hardly know Carey. I’m away so much and he’s always completely tongue-tied in my presence.”
“You probably scare the life out of him,” Fenella said before she thought better of it.
To her dismay, he whitened, and she realized that her careless remark had stung. Mr. Townsend looked like a flying cannonball would leave no mark, but she came to suspect that a man of genuine feeling lurked beneath all that brusque self-confidence. The hint of vulnerability made her like him better, and she forgave his unconventional entrance. After all, he’d had more than twenty miles from Eton to London to imagine disasters.
“I deserved that,” he said quietly. “But whatever Carey thinks of me, I can’t leave the lad to wander around on his own, prey to every villain in the land.”
She spread her hands, struggling through alarm to make sense of events. “Are you certain the boys are missing? Surely if the school contacted you, they’d contact me. Perhaps Brand and Carey are up to mischief—hiding to cause trouble.”
“I’m certain they’re missing.” Looking deathly tired, Mr. Townsend rubbed one massive hand over his face. “The headmaster left it to me to tell you, although I imagine a letter is on its way. He suggested I come straight here, while they search the local area. I was so quick to find out the boys had gone because I was on the spot. I got into port from Copenhagen this morning and decided to call on the lad and see how he was faring. Thank God I did. Otherwise they’d be gone who knows how long before anyone noticed, damned muddleheaded numbskulls at that school. I should have guessed I was on a wild goose chase, whatever his housemaster’s ideas. I asked all along the way and nobody had seen them.”
An agonizing mixture of worry and anger squeezed Fenella’s chest. “I could wring Brand’s neck.” She moderated her tone. Recriminations would do no good. “But to be fair, it’s not like him. He’s levelheaded, mature beyond his years. This is the most trouble he’s ever caused.”
Since his father’s death, Brandon had been touchingly protective of his mother. It was as if, even at six, he’d taken on Henry’s mantle as man of the house.
Mr. Townsend sent her a sharp-eyed glance. “Are you saying it’s Carey’s fault?”
“I’m saying that there’s no use speculating on their reasons at this stage.”
“I’d say there’s every use. If we knew why they ran away, we can guess where they went.” He stood with sudden dispatch and started to pace, his long legs covering the distance from wall to wall in a few strides. Until now, this room had never felt small. With Mr. Townsend quartering the carpet, it became suffocating. “Damn it, there’s no point sitting around here. I’ll head back to Eton to check the roads leading out of town. The school’s searching across to Windsor, but I’ve got a feeling the boys are long gone.” He fixed those blazing dark eyes on her. “What about the family seat? Would Brandon go there?”