pull her into his arms and kiss away the angry lines scouring her forehead.
Instead, in the softest voice he could manage, he asked, “Will I see you tomorrow?”
She glanced away as if to give the question considerable thought. Sebastian held his breath, afraid to make the slightest move.
“Might you behave yourself?”
“It is my dearest wish to do so.”
Pounding feet sounded down the corridor. Within seconds, his butler knocked on the door before sticking his harassed face through the opening. “My lord,” Grayson panted. “Mr. Foster to see you.”
The vicar squeezed by Grayson. “I’m sorry for barging in, my lord. Mrs. Ashcroft. But I’ve received some unsettling news about Meghan McCarthy.”
Catherine rushed forward and placed her hand on the vicar’s sleeve. Sebastian’s hands curled at his sides.
“What’s happened, sir? Please don’t tell me something is wrong with the baby.”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Well, yes. I mean—”
She grasped his hand in both of hers. “Take a deep breath, Mr. Foster.”
He sent her a sad smile. “You’re always so strong.” He pulled in a long breath. “Yes, something is wrong. Very wrong. Meghan McCarthy’s gone missing.”
***
After sending word to her mother at Winter’s Hollow, Catherine and Lord Somerton accompanied the vicar to the McCarthys to help search for the missing girl. According to Mr. Foster, Meghan McCarthy went for a walk with a friend after their meeting with her on Saturday and she never returned home. Figuring their daughter had decided to stay the night at her friend’s house, something she often did, the family did not begin to worry until she failed to return home the following afternoon.
When they entered the McCarthy cottage, Catherine noted Meghan’s younger sister and brother huddled in a corner, watching their father shove items into a satchel. Both Declan and his wife looked as though they hadn’t slept in days, and Mrs. McCarthy’s eyes were red-rimmed and sunken with grief.
“What is the latest, Declan?” the vicar asked.
“Still no sign,” the carpenter said. “We’ve pounded on every door and traveled down every lane. Sally Porter said she parted ways with my Meghan near the woods about a mile from here. I’ll search the woodland and then the waterfall she liked to visit.”
Somerton asked, “Do you think she left with the baby’s father?”
Mrs. McCarthy shook her head. “My daughter’s refusal to provide the man’s name was not because she wanted to protect him, but rather to protect her and the babe.”
Catherine recalled her suspicions about Meghan’s reticence. “She was afraid of the father?”
Mrs. McCarthy shared a look with her husband. “We believed so, although the stubborn girl would not admit it.”
When everyone fell silent, Lord Somerton asked, “Is no one else assisting with the search?”
McCarthy’s features hardened. “No.”
The earl didn’t react, but Catherine sensed his anger. Her own temper and disappointment bubbled to the surface. “No one?”
“The people around here have never welcomed us.” Mrs. McCarthy blotted her nose. “If not for your assistance, ma’am, we would have left months ago.”
“I did little more than nudge a few customers in your husband’s direction,” Catherine said. “Mr. McCarthy’s work speaks for itself.”
“The vicar and I will help search the woodlands.” Lord Somerton’s pronouncement held an age-old ring of authority that the other two men responded to without question.
“Thank you, m’lord,” McCarthy said. “I welcome the extra eyes.”
Mr. Foster nodded. “I’m ready.”
“As am I,” Catherine said.
Lord Somerton turned to her, his gaze assessing. “Your skills would be better employed elsewhere, madam.”
Her spine stiffened. “Do not think to exclude me. Meghan is my friend, and I will not leave until she is found.”
“I thought as much,” he said.
“Then define ‘elsewhere,’ if you please.”
“Are you up for a few social calls?”
Her brows drew together, not understanding.
“We need more people to assist with the search.”
His meaning became clear, and Catherine felt like a fool for her reaction. The one thing she had mastered over the years was the fine art of prodding people to do what they would not otherwise do if left to their own devices. “Of course.” To the vicar, she asked, “May I borrow your gig, sir?”
“By all means, Mrs. Ashcroft.”
“What of me, m’lord?” Mrs. McCarthy asked. “How can I help?”
Somerton laid his hand on her shoulder. “Let us prepare for the worst, ma’am. Do you have clean linens you can tear into strips?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Have several ready along with hot water and whatever medical supplies you have. Also, keep an eye out for any recruits Mrs. Ashcroft sends our way. Let them know where to find us. Can