Caroline might very well have lost her mind, but she couldn’t be bothered to contemplate that. She had too many other thoughts. Should she change into her nightrail before Marc arrived? Or should she let him unbutton her out of her dress as he’d suggested? She thought she might prefer the latter, especially after he’d put that thought in her mind.

Her coach stopped in front of Staveley House and she bounded up the steps and directly into her home. She grinned like a fool at Simmons as he shut the door behind her. “Please make certain the servants’ entrance is unlocked, Simmons.”

“Unlocked, milady?” Her borrowed butler frowned at her.

But she didn’t need to explain herself to him or anyone else. “Yes, please,” she said, and started for the staircase.

Caroline breezed past Emma’s room, but stopped in the corridor when she spotted Nelson, her son’s beagle, sitting at attention in front of Rachel’s door. That was odd. The dog had been moping in Adam’s room ever since they’d arrived in London without him.

“Nelson,” she whispered to the dog. “Go somewhere else.”

He barked in defiance.

Oh! For heaven’s sake! He was going to wake Rachel. The rotten dog! What in the world was wrong with him? “Nelson!” she hissed.

Nelson began whimpering and pawing at Rachel’s door. It would have to be Rachel’s door. Emma slept like the dead, but Rachel did not.

Fine. He wanted to sleep with Rachel tonight. He might wake her up if Caroline let him into her room, but he was sure to wake her, whining, barking, and pawing at her door if she didn’t let him in. So Caroline turned the handle and let the incessant beast into her daughter’s room, praying he’d stop making noise once he got what he wanted.

But, of course, he did the complete opposite of that. Nelson burst into Rachel’s chambers and barked up a veritable storm. Damn that dog! Caroline followed him into the room, trying to wrangle him before he could wake her daughter, but he was a slippery little bastard.

Nelson jumped onto Rachel’s bed, barking even louder, hopping around in a circle. And Caroline was certain her heart was going to stop when she realized her daughter was not abed.

“Rachel!” she called, but nothing met her ears except for Nelson’s whining.

Was that what the dog had been trying to tell her? That Rachel was gone?

Oh good God! Where in the world was her daughter? With the moonlight streaming in through the window, it was quite clear she was nowhere in her room.

Caroline’s heart pounded like a hammer as she raced from her daughter’s chambers, back down the steps. “Simmons!” she called. “Simmons!”

The butler appeared in the corridor, looking quite shaken. “Yes, Lady Staveley?”

“Rachel is not in her chambers,” Caroline began, barely understanding herself, she sounded so panicked.

“She’s gone?” Simmons’ frown deepened.

“She’s not in her chambers,” Caroline repeated.

Simmons nodded. “All right. I’ll gather Nelly, milady. Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll find her.” And then he raced down the corridor to wake Rachel’s maid.

Perhaps Nelly would know something. Perhaps…

Caroline’s knees nearly buckled beneath her and she couldn’t keep from shaking. Oh, dear God! What could have possible happened to her daughter? That open window. The stolen journal. What if someone returned and Rachel stumbled upon them?

Caroline grasped the railing to keep from falling to the floor. Where could her poor little girl be? Who was she with? What were they doing to her? A million horrible images flashed in her mind, and she didn’t even realize she was sobbing until Simmons reappeared before her and offered her his hand.

“Come, milady,” he said kindly. “Come sit in the parlor. I’ll bring in some tea to help steady your nerves.”

She took a staggering breath as she accepted the butler’s assistance. “Luke,” she breathed out. “Lucas Beckford, my brother. He’s at the Clayworths. Please send for him, and…”

“If I may, madam,” Simmons began calmly, directing her into her white parlor. “I do believe sending for Lord Haversham might be a better choice in this regard.”

Marc! Oh, heavens! Marc was on his way here right now. “He sh-sh-should be here any moment, actually.” She was so upset she didn’t even sound like herself.

Simmons nodded as he helped her to a spot on the settee. “The servants’ entrance is unlocked,” he said as he led her to the settee. “Will you be all right while I fetch the tea?”

Caroline wasn’t certain if she was ever going to be all right. She thought she might die herself after David, but Rachel…If something happened to Rachel, she would never survive it.

“Or I can stay right here with you, milady,” the butler said, looking more than concerned.

Caroline shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine, Simmons.”

“Very well,” he said as he turned to quit the room.

* * *

Eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds. Marc was a minute and thirty-two seconds off thanks to that damned Runner. Sometime before he died, he’d see that Blackaby paid for that. Of course, a minute and thirty-two seconds wasn’t the end of the world. He could have been much later, all things considered; but he had waited for this night for what felt like a lifetime. And he didn’t want to be even a second late, let alone a minute and thirty-two seconds. He paid the hack, and made a direct path for the mews and then back around to the servants’ entrance of Staveley House.

As soon as Marc stepped over the threshold, he knew something was wrong. For one thing, the kitchen was fully lit, and for another, Caroline’s cook stood over the stove as though it was the middle of the day instead of the middle of the night.

The woman looked at him as though he was a specter and then she let out an ear-piercing wail. Damn it all! The woman did have a set of lungs. And she could wake the bloody dead.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, trying to calm her over her scream.

And at that moment Simmons, blessed Simmons, rushed into the kitchens. He took one look at Marc and gestured toward the corridor behind him. “Mrs. Bradley,” the butler said in a calming voice. “Please do get ahold of yourself. Lord Haversham is here to help her ladyship.”

Help? That wasn’t really the word Marc would use. Entertain her, perhaps. Seduce her, most definitely. Love her…well, he’d been doing that for years. But honestly any of those were more apt than help, for God’s sakes.

“Oh!” The cook placed her hand over her heart as though to calm herself. “Frightened me almost to death.”

And everyone else on Curzon Street, most likely. What an excitable servant. And why the devil was she even awake at this hour?

“Milord,” Simmons began, “Lady Staveley is in the white parlor. Do please hurry. She’s waiting for you.”

Damn it all. Something was definitely wrong, then. Marc brushed past the excitable cook and toward his former butler. “What is it, Simmons?” he asked as he neared the man.

“It’s Miss Benton, sir. She seems to have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Marc echoed, hoping he’d heard the servant incorrectly.

At Simmons’ nod, Marc bolted from the kitchens and navigated his way to Caroline’s parlor. The usually brave lady was shaking on her settee and looked more devastated than he’d ever seen her.

“What happened?” he breathed out.

Her gaze flashed up to his and then she started sobbing. “Rachel’s gone, Marc.”

He rushed to her side and took her hands in his. “Oh, my darling,” he soothed. “I’ll find her. I swear it.”

She lifted her tear stained face up to his, and the sight nearly broke his heart. “I think someone took her.”

That wouldn’t have been Marc’s first guess. Generally when a girl Rachel Benton’s age disappeared, she left on her own accord. “Who would take her?”

She shrugged and her shoulders sagged forward. “Someone broke into the study some days ago and…they took David’s journal. And now I think they came back. And if Rachel stumbled upon whoever it was…”

He didn’t think it was exactly the best time to mention that he already knew about the break-in or the theft. “Why do you think they came back?”

Caroline shrugged. “What else could it be?”

Well, Galloway wasn’t in the business of abducting sixteen-year-old girls, not generally. Marc supposed it wasn’t out of the question that the spymaster could be responsible, but had something like that transpired, Simmons would have taken care of the situation. Odds were, the girl wouldn’t have gone silently, had that been the case. No, Caroline’s thief theory didn’t hold much water. “You don’t think it’s more likely she’s run off to meet some young man?”

As though that thought hadn’t occurred to her at all, Caroline blinked up at him. “Oh, good heavens! Today she went to the museum with Lord Ambelcotte. She said it was to see his sisters, but what if she was lying to me and…”

Marc shook his head again. “Not Ambelcotte. He was at Clayworth’s just now. Don’t you remember seeing him?”

“I don’t know what I remember.” She scrubbed a hand down her face.

Simmons cleared his throat from the threshold. “Nelly says Miss Benton’s nightrail was shoved under the counterpane, and a dark frock and cloak are missing.”

So Rachel Benton left of her own accord. “Had someone come in, Caroline, they wouldn’t have made her change clothes, not without giving her time to alert Simmons or someone else to her plight.”

Caroline swallowed. “So she’s run off?” Her voice cracked as she said the words. “Oh my God. Why would she…”

Marc took her hands in his and held them. He hated seeing her in so much pain. “Besides Ambelcotte, is there anyone else she’s mentioned? Even in passing?” Marc would turn Mayfair upside down and shake it until he found the girl, and once he had her in his grasp, she would never forget the experience.

“She’s never done…”And then Caroline’s pained gazed flashed up to meet Marc’s.

“What is it, love?”

She shook her head. “Last year Rachel and Commander Greywood’s daughter snuck off to Covent Garden on their own.”

“Covent Garden?” Marc echoed.

“All these young girls are enthralled with that Covent Guard or whatever they’re calling him.”

“The fellow with the daggers?”

Caroline nodded. “They wanted to catch a glimpse of him, but they went during the day. I can’t imagine she’d be so foolish as to go there in the middle of the night.”

Well, she’d foolishly gone somewhere in the middle of the night. And the Covent Guard did most of his guarding at night. It was a place to start. “I’ll scour Covent Garden.”

He pushed off the settee, but Caroline reached for his hand. “I’m coming with you.”

Not a chance. Marc had no idea what sort of condition Rachel would be in once he found her, if he found her at all. But the likelihood was high that Caroline wouldn’t want to see her daughter in whatever state that was. “Sweetheart, stay here in case she returns on her own. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”