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KATHERINE HAD DECORATED her home in holly, rosemary and ivy. As he took notice of the greenery, Alastair wondered why Katherine had chosen to celebrate Christmas with more fanfare this year rather than confine the holiday to the customary acts of charity.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Katherine remarked. “I have hopes that perhaps you mean to amend your strained relations with your family.”

“Such efforts are better aided by my absence rather than my presence,” he replied.

He greeted the family members already present: Edward, his wife and sons; Harriet, her husband and newborn babe; his sisters and their husbands.

When he came to the Abbotts, he inquired, “Where is Miss Abbott?”

“Alas, she took ill after the Christmas service,” answered Mrs. Abbott.

Guilt twisted in his bosom. Had she fallen ill from a broken heart after learning that she was not to wed Mr. Winston?

“She seemed weak during the service, “Mr. Abbott said to his wife. “I hope it is nothing serious.”

Alastair frowned. “When did your service conclude?”

“I would say eleven o'clock.”

“And she was already ill?”

“She was slow in her steps and put her hand often to her brow.”

“She would have made every effort to come,” said Mrs. Abbott, “if she were not feeling so poorly.”

Alastair recalled that he had met with Mr. Winston about one o'clock. Her illness then was not due to the news Mr. Winston had to break to her.

This provided no solace to Alastair, for something seemed amiss. Millie and Winston had planned to elope today. Would Winston still intend to do so despite the offer he had accepted?

Alastair pulled his aunt aside. “Have you heard from Millie?”

“Not in some time, though I had invited her to tea several times.”

“She has not written you? Or spoken of a man named George Winston?”

“I have heard nothing from her. In truth, I'm quite surprised that I have not, but I understand from her mother that she has been busy entertaining various suitors. Who is this gentleman you speak of?”

“A man not worthy of being called a gentleman.” A sense of urgency haunted him. “They had planned to elope today.”

Katherine blinked in surprise. “Elope? Millie? This is unlike her. And not to have said a word to me. I am astonished.”

“Are you? But you were not astonished that she would go to the Château Debauchery with you?”

“That is different. An elopement will alter her life. How do you know of this Winston fellow and their elopement?”

“Because I had expressly forbid her continued acquaintance with him and threatened to revoke the dowry if they married.”

“You said this to her?”

“And to her parents. Winston is a dangerous fellow.”

Katherine furrowed her brow. “In what manner?”

“In the severest of manners.”

“Millie is unaware of this?”

“She is not, but would have him nonetheless.” His whole body tensed. “She must be quite in love with him.”

His aunt stared at him keenly. “And that vexes you?”

“That she would disregard my advice and elope with a man who will most certainly cause her ruin or grief? That she would fail to appreciate my generosity in providing for her dowry by running off with Winston?”

“And is that all that troubles you?”

“What do you imply, madam?”

“You think I do not know what happened during Michaelmas?”

He started. He was in disbelief until she smiled.

“I had hoped to speak to Millie about what transpired. She had seemed dispirited after you left Edenmoor. I thought perhaps she had fallen in love with you.”

“Millie? With me?”

“And you with her.”

He straightened. “Madam, you are a romantic.”

“Do you deny it?”

“Even if true, it is of no consequence. Millie is in love with Winston, and I fear they may carry out this elopement. “

“If he is as bad as you say, you must stop them.”

He nodded. “But speak not of this to Mr. and Mrs. Abbott. I do not wish to alarm them unnecessarily. I will take my leave without bidding adieu to the others.”

“Of course. Godspeed, Alastair.”

He could not receive his garrick, hat and gloves fast enough. When his carriage pulled up before the Abbott residence, he was out the vehicle before it had come to a complete stop.

“Where is Miss Abbott?” he asked the maid who answered the door.

“In her room resting,” the surprised woman replied.

He whisked past the servant. “I will see her—in her room, if she is too ill to leave it.”

“Shall I take your hat and gloves, sir?”

“No, but please inform her that her cousin is here.”

The maid nodded and went upstairs. He paced the vestibule while he waited. If Millie was asleep, he would wait until she wakened.

But what he had feared was true.

“She is not in her room,” the maid said when she had returned.

Alarm gripped him. “Where are the other servants? Have they seen her?”

“I am the only one. There is a laundry maid who comes once a week, but as it is Christmas, she will come tomorrow.”

Wanting to confirm for himself, he took the stairs three steps at a time and went into the room with the open door.

It was empty. She had left. With Winston.

Alastair was stunned. Had Winston played him for a fool and only pretended to accept the offer of the annuity? Had he underestimated what partiality the man may have had for Millie? Or perhaps Millie had convinced him that the better course still lay in elopement. Millie was surprisingly persuasive. He ought not have underestimated her.

“Have you searched the rest of the house?” he asked the maid as she came up behind him.

“I have not. Should I? I don’t understand. Miss Abbott was too ill to leave her bed.”

“Where does she keep her coat?”

“Her coat, sir?”

Alastair opened the doors of an armoire.

“Oh!” the maid gasped in surprise. “It is not there.”

“Are all her bonnets and shoes accounted for?”

The maid examined the rest of the armoire’s contents. “How strange! Perhaps the laundry maid had come early this week?”

Alastair needed no further evidence. Millie was gone.

As disbelief faded, a sense of loss took its place. If she succeeded in marrying Winston, she was gone for him.

It was what he wanted, Alastair reminded himself. He had doubled her dowry so that she could easily find a husband and he would be done with her, but she had been right. Her dowry had attracted too many suitors, including undesirable ones.

He could not let her marry Winston. If he should find her before they married, he vowed he would make finding the best man he could for Millie his utmost priority. Or he could—

An object upon the floor caught his eye. The maid had missed the note that had perhaps fallen off the bed. Bending down, he picked up the note and unfolded it.

My Dearest Parents,

Please know first and foremost that I hold you in much regard and love. My present actions may appear to contradict this assertion, and perhaps it is my selfishness, and not a lack of esteem or love for you, that wins the day. I wish I could be a better daughter. I wish I could envision myself married to Mr. Carleton or any of the other men you would deem in my interest to marry. Alas, I cannot. I expect my greatest chance for matrimonial happiness lies with Mr. Winston. He is a good man whose disposition matches my own. I hope you will one day come to forgive the actions I feel compelled to take. I do so with a heavy heart at the pain this must cause you.

I will send word when Mr. Winston and I are married. He assures me that his situation is more than capable of sustaining a modest living. I have never wanted much more. Thus, you need not worry of providing for me. I hope that you will consider welcoming us into your house as Mr. and Mrs. Winston.

With love,

Mildred

Pocketing the note, he asked, “Mr. Harris. He is a friend of the Grenvilles. Do you know where he might live?”

“I know not, but the Grenvilles live at Cavendish Square.”

He cursed, for he would have preferred to go straight to Mr. Harris’. After telling the maid that there was naught to worry and that he knew where Millie was—it was only a temporary fib, as he fully intended to find Millie—he hurried back to his carriage and made for Cavendish Square.

He found the Grenville residence, and, to his fortune and immense relief, Mr. Harris and Mr. Winston. Upon setting eyes on the latter, he found it hard not to stride over and deck the man.

“Lord Alastair—” Mr. Grenville began.

“I will have a private word with Mr. Winston,” he growled.

Mr. Grenville showed them into the library. As soon as the doors were closed, Alastair shoved Winston to the wall, closing his hand about the man’s throat.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Winston gripped his arm, attempting to keep it from crushing his neck to the wall. “What do you mean, sir?”

“Millie. Where did she go after you spoke with her?”

“I didn’t.”

Alastair felt the veins at this temple throb. “What? You did not speak with her?”

“I did not wish to make a scene.”

“If you did not speak with her, then she still thought you were to elope?”

“I sent a note to her.”

Millie must not have received it. “Where? When?”

“At the Boar’s Head Inn off the main posting road to Gretna Green.”

“Gretna Green! Why the devil would you travel that far? You are both of age. Why not marry at Hyde Park Corner or even Fleet?”

“It was her idea! Their sex thrives on romanticism!”

Alastair tightened his grip before throwing Winston to the ground in disgust. If he had the luxury of time, he would throttle the man. But he wanted to get to Millie.

“You will not speak of this to anyone, save that you and I had a disagreement to settle. If you wish to demand satisfaction, name your seconds,” he said to Winston, who remained on hands and knees.

When Winston only stared at him as if he were mad, Alastair threw open the doors and stalked past the surprised host. When in his carriage, Alastair let out an oath that even startled his driver. He could not believe that Winston had not spoken or, at the least, written a letter to Millie at her home. Instead, he had allowed her to travel to a posting inn on her own.

The damned bleeder.

The carriage could not arrive at the posting inn fast enough. As few people traveled on Christmas, the innkeeper was properly astonished to see Alastair.

“I seek a young woman,” he informed the elderly keeper when he did not see Millie.

“I had a young woman here earlier. She was alone and sat for several hours, till a letter arrived by messenger for her.”

“Do you have the letter?”

“It is with her. I saw her place it in her reticule.”

“What happened then?”

“After readings its contents, she asked if there would be a coach today. I said not likely, as it was Christmas. My son was visiting and had himself a wagon. I offered that he could take her where she wished to go for the right price.”

“And where did she wish to go?”

The man furrowed his brow. “Can’t remember, as I never heard the name before.”

Alastair drew in a breath to calm his patience. He was ready to wring the innkeeper if it would do any good.

“They took the road that leads to Surrey.”

Surrey. Why would Millie head in that direction? Alastair understood that she no longer needed to head north to Gretna Green if the letter the innkeeper referenced was the one that Winston had written, but what lay to the southeast?

He stiffened as the answer came to him.

Château Follet.