She'd been anything but bored with his adventures in all those fairytale places. But that hypnotic voice, the long journey, and the quiet night had caught up with her.
"I'm sorry. I was lying all over you. How very…embarrassing. And how on earth could I sleep with Brandon in danger?" Self-disgust weighted her voice. Her ease with Mr. Townsend betrayed not only Brand, but Henry as well.
"You'd fretted yourself into exhaustion. It's a cold night, and I'm large and warm."
"Still, it's not…"
He saved her from struggling for words to express her confused feelings. "We're nearly at the Beeches," he said calmly.
She tugged the rug up around her hot cheeks, and told herself she was just tired and worried and overemotional. "Surely if the boys came this way, we'd have caught sight of them by now."
"Who knows how long they were gone before the school discovered they were missing?" He turned the carriage between an impressive pair of gateposts crowned with stone lions. "If they found transport, they could beat us by hours."
"Or they could have met with harm."
His glance was reproving. "Don't lose your nerve now. You've been a pillar of strength so far. If they're not at the house, all isn't lost. We'll retrace our journey and track them down."
As they bowled along a beech-lined drive, Fenella fought the urge to clutch at Mr. Townsend's brawny arm like a child seeking reassurance. "You sound very certain."
"Carey is a clever lad. I don't know much about him, but I know that. And his friend is blessed with courage and resourcefulness."
Startled, she stared at him. "How can you know that?"
For the first time, Mr. Townsend smiled fully. And despite fretting over Brandon, Fenella felt her world shift on its axis.
When she'd first seen Anthony Townsend, she'd considered him striking rather than attractive. Stern. Commanding. Monumental. But his smile made him look younger and more approachable. She realized with a shock that he couldn't be much older than her own thirty. No more than thirty-five, certainly. The lopsided curve of his lips over his large white teeth, and the humor lighting those dark brown eyes turned him into a man of more than ordinary appeal.
Smiling, he was breathtakingly charming. And dazzlingly attractive.
Dear heaven, she was in trouble.
"Because his mother is an exceptional woman."
Since her recent emergence from mourning, she'd laughed away a thousand extravagant compliments. None made her blush like Mr. Townsend's unexpected praise. She wasn't sure what to say, but luckily a huge stone pile of a building came into view and saved her.
"Goodness me," she gasped in awe.
He laughed softly. "If I'm playing the country gentleman, I'm going to do it right."
"No half measures?"
"None at all."
"Aren't we going to see Carey's old nurse?" After the troubling revelation that somewhere between London and the Beeches, she'd developed an unwelcome penchant for this complex man, she was grateful to retreat to prosaic matters.
Following her one true love's death, she'd sworn to devote herself to her duty as a mother. It hadn't felt like a sacrifice. She'd loved once. She never wanted to love again. Anyway, the prospect of ever finding another man attractive had been so remote as to seem impossible.
For nearly five years, she'd locked herself away with memories of her young husband and their life together. Even re-entering society this year hadn't pierced her essential isolation.
But now, she wondered if she was over life after all. Tonight long-buried feelings stirred, and she resented it. She had no wish to brave the hurly-burly of attraction. Losing love had nearly destroyed her. She couldn't risk going through that again.
"Nanny Penn lives in the east wing." He drew the horses to a stop on the circular drive before the sprawling stone house with its rows of tall windows and imposing columned portico.
"Lucky Nanny Penn," she said faintly.
"I bought it after I came to a house party. I haven't decided what I'll do with it. I still haven't been over the whole house—or the grounds."
"You bought it. Without seeing all of it?"