Lucia rushed toward her, taking both her hands. “Sapphire never came home last night. I hoped she was with you.”
“With me?” Angelique drew back. “Certainly not. I was with Henry. We went back to his parents’ home. He had this ridiculous idea to tell them he was marrying me with or without their consent.” She pulled away from Lucia and walked toward the kitchen, tossing the man’s coat on a chair as she went by. “Or mine, apparently, for that matter.”
Angelique pushed through the swinging doors into the small utilitarian kitchen and Lucia followed her. They ordered most of their meals out from the cookshop down the street, so it was perfectly adequate. Though Avena had become an excellent ladies’ maid, a cook, Lucia had quickly learned, she was not.
Angelique opened a cupboard and poked around, finding a plate covered in cheesecloth. “I’m starved.”
“Have you any idea where she might have gone? I’m worried sick. Could she possibly be with Charles?”
Angelique plucked the cloth from the plate to find a slab of yellow cheese. She drew a knife from a drawer and sliced a piece off. “With Charles? I think not. We saw him around three at a pub near Westminster, and I must say he was in a foul mood.” Leaning against the wooden table beneath the cupboard, she bit into the cheese. “Apparently they had some sort of row. He wouldn’t say what had happened, but I can tell you he was not pleased with her. He kept asking me what she had told me and finally, when I convinced him we’d not spoken since the ball, he began to ramble about not believing anything she said. About her being intoxicated and misinterpreting his intentions.” She fluttered her hand. “It was all a bunch of nonsense and I had no idea what he was talking about.”
“Dear me.” Lucia sighed, drawing her hand to her mouth and glancing away. “I can’t imagine where she’s gone, then. This isn’t like her. She’s never stayed out all night before.”
“Actually, it could be my fault.” Angelique sliced another piece of cheese, hesitating. “She and Charles left rather quickly, a result of a commotion Henry and I inadvertently caused at Lord and Lady Harris’s ball last night.”
Lucia lifted an eyebrow.
“Don’t listen to the gossip. None of it is true.” Angelique raised a slender, bare shoulder. “Most of it isn’t, at least.”
“You think Sapphire could have run away?”
“Run away? Certainly not. Where would she run to? You don’t give her enough credit, Aunt Lucia. Our little Sapphire has a mind of her own and she can take care of herself. Everyone seems to forget she was the one who saved me from those wild dogs all those years ago.” Taking the last of the cheese, she walked out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Lucia called, following her into the parlor.
“To bed.” Angelique turned to her. “Where you should be going.”
“I couldn’t possibly sleep.” Lucia worried her hands. “Armand left her in my care and now—”
“Aunt Lucia.” Angelique grasped her shoulders. “You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. Who knows?” She released her. “Perhaps she met up with the dashing Lord Wessex. She’s half in love with him, you know, and he with her.”
“I know no such thing!”
“Well, do what you like, but I’m going to bed. Henry said he’d be here by noon.” She flashed a grin over her shoulder. “Though he’ll probably be here closer to three. I told him to sober up and apologize to his parents. I’ll not have him penniless.”
Lucia glanced up at her. “Is that unfair? He will apparently have you penniless.”
“I’m not penniless. I have what Sophie left and my own devices.” She chuckled and gave a wave with the piece of cheese, disappearing down the hall.
Lucia shook her head at her adopted niece, who knew less about love than she thought. It came so seldom in life. She just prayed Angelique wasn’t missing it right under her nose. Despite Henry’s immaturity and blithe attitude, Lucia could tell that he truly did love Angelique, and she hated the thought that Angel might let true love pass her by. But Angelique had been uncontrollable since childhood—as uncontrollable as her Sapphire—and right now she was most concerned about Sapphire. Turning, she went into her room, grabbed a cloak and her reticule and hurried out of the house, hoping it wouldn’t take her long to find a hackney so early on a Sunday morning.
“Lucia, love, what’s wrong?” Meeting her in the front hall, dressed in a silk nightshirt, Jessup opened his arms to Lucia.
“It’s Sapphire,” she cried, her eyes filling with tears as she threw herself against him. “She never came home!” She peered up at Jessup, knowing now that she was more distraught than she had realized. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but I didn’t know where else to go, who else to turn to.”
“There, there, don’t be ridiculous.” He ushered her down the hall and into the parlor. “Malcolm,” he called to his butler who had let Lucia in and was now lighting lamps as fast as he could. “Have Ella put hot water on for tea.”
“I believe she’s not come in yet for the day, sir. It being Sunday.”
“Then put it on yourself! Now here, darling, sit down.” Jessup guided Lucia to his favorite chair in front of the fireplace, an old, down-stuffed brocade that had seen better years. “Look at you in your nightclothes,” he said, perching on the footstool at her feet, covering his knobby knees with the old, thin flannel dressing robe he wore. “You should have sent Angelique or Avena.”
Lucia frowned. “Angelique thought my worry heedless.” She met his gaze. “But this is so unlike my Sapphire.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” He rubbed her hand between his. “There’s a chill in this room, don’t you think?” He turned to call over his shoulder. “Malcolm! Get us a fire going in here at once!” Jessup turned back to Lucia as he ran his fingers through his thin gray hair. “You say she never came home last night, and am I to understand that Angelique doesn’t know where she is?”
“Sapphire went to the Lord and Lady Harris’s masquerade ball with Lord Thomas but he never brought her home.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, my dear,” Jessup said carefully, “but do you think she could have…gone home with Lord Thomas?”