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“A man is missing,” Violet pointed out.

“Oh, yes. Of course. It must be stressful for Duke.”

“He cares deeply for his father.”

“It’s not often sons have such close relationships with their fathers,” Violet mused. “Basil doesn’t loathe Papa, but I do not think I have ever seen them spend proper time together.”

“That’s because Basil wants to travel the world for the rest of his days and who do you think encouraged such dreams? Most certainly Papa. I think he hopes Basil will make some grand discovery that will help Papa’s research into the natural world.”

“True, but it does not seem the same as what Duke and Sir William have.”

“It’s just the two of them,” Violet pointed out. “The loss of Duke’s mother and sister brought them together I believe.”

“How awful it must have been to lose them. I don’t know much but that they drowned.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Violet nodded. “They were sailing up the Thames when their ship collided with a much larger one. It is the one thing Duke does not speak of often and why would he? It was a great tragedy.”

Ivy pressed her lips together. “A great tragedy should be spoken of in my opinion. We do not keep things to ourselves in our family, do we, Vi?”

Violet stared at the buttons again. “No, of course not,” she replied softly. “Oh look.” She pointed past Violet’s head. “What a lovely orangery.”

“Where?” Ivy whipped her head around and stared out of the window.

Violet allowed herself a long exhale. She wasn’t exactly lying to her sister, however, there was no denying she was holding things back. But what benefit could there be to talking of the matter of Duke? Now was not the time to be thinking of strange feelings that would surely vanish once they returned to normal.

She set her hands in her lap and straightened her shoulders. No, this would pass soon enough and with any luck, they would find Duke’s father, and everything would be the same as it always was.

∞∞∞

The shouting of Duke’s name was enough to make a man freeze in terror. He gripped the reins and steadied his horse. How did women do that? Issue commands that made one feel as though one’s life was in danger if one did not stop to listen.

“Marmaduke Cameron,” Clementine shouted again. “Get off that horse this instant!”

Duke inhaled slowly and peered past the head of his mount to spy Clementine blocking his exit from the stable courtyard. Only marginally more ladylike than her sister due to a pelisse that had clearly been buttoned with urgency and sat askew, her posture remained firm even when he tried to inch forward.

“You are not going anywhere,” she declared. “You are still in recovery.”

He always considered himself a fairly patient man. Considering all the waiting he had to do for Clementine and Roman to realize they were meant for one another, one would think he could tolerate a few stubborn Musgraves. But he needed to find Violet. Now. For all they knew she could be left along the road somewhere, beaten and filthy.

Or worse.

Bitterness rose in his throat, and he bunched the reins so tight he felt them bite through his gloves. “Clementine...” he warned.

“Where are you going anyway?” She inched sideways to block his slight progress forward.

“To find your blasted sister.” He shook his head. “You do realize she has gone and put herself into a dangerous situation.”

Clementine had the audacity to laugh.

He glared at her. “I am assuming you know the situation considering everyone has been avoiding me today.”

“Violet is not in any danger. She can look after herself.”

Letting his scowl deepen, he eyed Violet’s sister. Violetcouldlook after herself, he knew that. He’d witnessed it many a time as Violet batted away insults about the Musgraves with the ease of swatting away a fruit fly. The oldest Musgrave never failed to stand up for herself yet none of her sisters seemed to notice the slight drop in her shoulders as though carrying the weight of the family scandal upon her shoulders was too heavy a burden. Duke couldn’t deny wishing he could carry some of it for her.

“Damn it, Clem, this is serious!”

She wagged a finger at him. “You shouldn’t curse.”


Tags: Samantha Holt Historical