“I have. Though I trust they will do a credible job, I cannot leave it all to them while I sit idly waiting for news.”
“I understand.”
They rode in silence for several minutes, and Sebastian appreciated she wasn’t a lady given to nervous chattering. Her eyes were bright with humor or perhaps just the joy of living—the earlier echoes of emptiness gone. They picked up their pace, riding across the country roads to Brighton. The quiet between them felt companiable and pleasant.
Why do I find you so appealing?He silently wondered.
The only things that should be consuming his thoughts now were Perdie—finding her, then mending everything that had been broken. Theodosia had his gut in knots, and not in a flattering way.
They arrived in Brighton a little over an hour later, and he immediately directed them the house he owned. Perdie had fallen in love with the seaside and each year he had taken her and his mother for a trip. A thorough but discreet search revealed Perdie was not in Brighton. The hope he’d been holding close now sat like a heavy boulder on Sebastian’s shoulders. For over an hour he walked, trying to work through the cold knot of doubt growing inside. Sebastian found himself by the seaside, staring out into the ocean and the lapping waves. Thankfully, the beach was empty of sea bathers for the sun was lowering in the sky and the visitors to the area would flock to the town’s entertainments.
“Where are you, Perdie?”
He thought of all the places they’d visited together over the years, all the places she loved. Dipping into his pocket he withdrew the crumpled letter and read it once more.
Did someone take you, perhaps forced you to write this?
He immediately dismissed the desperate thoughts. No villain would have taken a lady’s maid and a companion too. Perdie had planned this. Each time he thought of it, Seb felt a shock of disbelief in his body, still unable to comprehend his sister would act in such a foolhardy manner. They had always been close. Always. He couldn’t imagine what Perdie believed she had to keep secret.
Finding herself. What the hell did that mean? And what if he should heed her plea to leave her be. Could he really act according to her wishes? The denial that roared through him then was fierce and uncompromising. Leaving his sister alone in the world was not a thought to be borne.
The soft padding of a footstep drifted closer, but it was Theodosia’s scent of jasmine and something elusive that raked at his senses. Seb turned, watching as Theodosia made her way to him. Oddly, that hard twist in his gut loosened and another unknown but quite pleasant sensation drifted through him. She came up to him, looking exquisitely lovely. She wore her hair in a loose braid without a bonnet atop her head. Her dress was a simple blue high waist gown which clung alluring to her frame.
“Perdie is not here in Brighton,” Theodosia murmured.
“She isn’t.”
They turned to the sea, staring at the frothy waves in silence. Seb acknowledged her presence at the moment felt comforting.
“My father took me here some years ago for the grand opening of the Theatre Royal. I believe it was in 1807. They played Hamlet that night, and I still recall how great it was sitting amongst the crowd and being a part of that energy. The feeling of being a part of something magical, the majesty of the actors on stage, the sheer presence of Charles Kemble.”
A smile tipped the corner of her mouth. “I saw him once at Drury Lane. He was quite magnificent.”
“Very much like our Prince Regent, my father loved the arts and took me to many plays. The first time I shared that story with Perdie, she wanted to visit Brighton and see Hamlet for herself at the same theatre. She wanted to promenade down the Steyne—to walk in a place our father had been, to sit in a place where he had sat, to laugh and enjoy life as once he had. Somehow, I thought it one of the places she always felt connected to the man she mostly knew through my stories of our time together here.”
Theodosia faced him, her eyes bright with sympathy. “I wish so very much I knew where she was.” She lifted a hand as if to touch his face but lowered it back to her side. “How do we find her?” That question was a mere whisper of sound.
A hard determination filled his heart. “I’ll keep searching. We leave Brighton at the crack of dawn. I’ve already stationed trusted men here to be on the lookout. If they see her, a message will be sent to my man of affairs in London, and to the Duchess in Maidstone. They will know where to find me.”
“Isn’t there somewhere special to Perdie, more so than others? You have several homes, and you both seemed to travel regularly, they all cannot be equal.”
Seb lifted his head to the sky, thinking. “Our father died when Perdie was only eight years old. Each year I took her to the places my father took me as a lad. He did so mostly to show me what my future responsibilities entailed, and to learn the land and the people. But when I showed each place to Perdie it was a way for her to connect with our father, to know him, and to also broaden her horizon.” Without looking at her, he said, “I can feel you staring, Theodosia.”
She glanced away but he could see that her cheeks were flushed with color. “I—”
An awareness slammed into him. “The cottage.”
Seb closed his eyes briefly, thinking of the possibility of her being there.
“What cottage?”
“Our grandmother left us a cottage in Kent. It is not a part of the dukedom holdings, and it is not as stately. Only twelve rooms in total, and staffed by a housekeeper, a scullery maid, a cook, and a footman. We have not been there in almost four years if I recollect it correctly.”Bloody hell. Why had he not thought of the cottage sooner. “I’ve not sent any runners there. Perdie loved visiting the cottage.”
“Then we journey to the cottage tomorrow,” Theodosia said without any perceptible hesitation.
Seb stared at her, admiring her uncomplaining nature. Under the gentle glow of the moonlight, she appeared so very lovely. He had not treated her too kindly or in a gentleman like fashion, ordering her from the comfort of her home to gallivant with him across England searching for his wayward sister. He had driven them at a hard pace, and she had not complained. Her backside might be sore, though she had sat in the saddle with the grace and agility of an extremely skilled rider.
Theodosia did not complain. She was indeed made of stern stuff. “Thank you, Theodosia, for accompanying me.”