say without any input from Mary or me.” He glanced at Mary, now seated on the sofa. “In fact, it would be best if you gave no indication that we were here and simply asked her your questions.” Looking down the room, he tipped his head at the oriental screen used in deepest winter to block the draft from the door; it was presently standing half folded in the corner and would be half concealed by the opened door. “When Lavinia comes in, Mary and I will stand behind the screen and”—he glanced at the others—“I would greatly appreciate it if you could all summon sufficient histrionic ability to convincingly pretend that you haven’t seen us and have no idea where we are.”
The others exchanged glances; none knew better the fraught nature of the relationship between Ryder and their mother, and all were intelligent enough to guess that some critical point had been reached, if not passed. But as they looked back at him, Ryder saw in their faces that each was willing to do as he’d asked. That each of them trusted him, even in this.
After a moment’s hesitation, Rand asked, “Is this really necessary?”
Ryder knew Rand posed the question in the sense of sparing them, not Lavinia. Meeting Rand’s eyes, he nodded. “Yes. I believe it is.” If he’d had difficulty accepting that Lavinia was a would-be murderess, one who had attempted to have him and Mary killed, how much more difficult would accepting that truth be for her own children? “As I said, you need to hear the explanation for all this directly from her.”
Lips thinning, Rand inclined his head. “Then, yes, of course we’ll do as you ask.”
The others all nodded their agreement.
Kit rose and went to the screen. He widened it, angling it to create a larger space behind it.
Ryder went to help him, but as he reached Kit, they all heard the rattle of carriage wheels—this time not racing but rolling sedately along. “That will most likely be Lavinia.” Ryder glanced at Mary; she rose and crossed to his side.
Kit finished resetting the screen. “That should do.”
Ryder took Mary’s hand and looked across the room at Rand.
Rand nodded. “Get out of sight, and I’ll go and let her in.” He glanced at his siblings—Kit going to sit alongside Stacie on the sofa, with Godfrey on his feet by the hearth. “Ready?”
They all nodded; Ryder drew Mary to the screen, let her slip into the space behind it, then followed.
He looked over the top of the screen, nodded to the other three, then crouched down; he was too tall to stand. The gap between the screen’s panels allowed him to see the area before the fireplace well enough. One hand resting on his shoulder, Mary remained upright and peered out, too.
They heard voices in the hall, Lavinia exclaiming, and Rand greeting her, then Potherby. The front door shut, then Lavinia swept into the room. She was dressed for a ball in a cream-and-red striped gown, a fringed red silk shawl draped about her shoulders.
Seeing her younger children gathered before the fireplace, she flung her arms wide. “My dears! I didn’t expect any of you until tomorrow, but really, it’s just as well. Such a disaster! Such a dreadful, dreadful thing!”
Kit had risen at her entrance. “What dreadful thing, Mama?”
“Why, whatever has happened to Ryder and his Mary, of course—they’ve disappeared! Everyone at the abbey is no doubt searching high and low, but it seems they’ve vanished.” Dropping her evening gloves and reticule on the table, Lavinia advanced on the three, patently expecting to be hugged and kissed. Kit, Stacie, and Godfrey obliged; if she noticed their uneasiness, Lavinia gave no sign.
Rand, who had followed Claude Potherby in and shut the door, hung back at that end of the room; for his part, Potherby was staring at Lavinia, a puzzled expression on his face. Rand saw it. He looked at Lavinia. “What do you think has happened to Ryder and Mary, Mama?”
Lavinia spread her hands. “How on earth should I know, dearest? Perhaps he took her out driving in one of those ridiculous phaetons of his and overturned, and they’ve both broken their necks.”
“And you don’t think Filmore or the abbey grooms would know?” Godfrey, pale, shook his head. “You know that can’t be right.”
Lavinia flung up her hands. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know, but I can’t see that it matters. Perhaps they went walking and robbers set on them, or they fell down a