“Very well, Sir, very well. His Lord and Ladyships are in the drawing room, with quite a few other guests.”
“No need to show me the way.” Years of friendship with Westerley provided familiarity with the servants and so Stone climbed the stairs without escort, two at a time, to the main part of the house.
The dowager countess would be hosting the at-home to further cultivate her American daughter-in-law’s acceptance into society. Judging by the crowded room, the gathering had already proven successful. Stone wasn’t at all surprised. Westerley’s red-haired American beauty had a way of charming even the staunchest of Tories despite holding viewpoints that veered considerably from general English consensus.
Stone dragged his gaze around the room until he caught Westerley’s, who then rose to meet him. Mrs. Crabtree sat behind the elder Lady Westerley but Lady Tabetha was nowhere in sight.
“You spoke with your mother?” Stone asked without preamble.
“My sister was already gone before I returned but Mrs. Crabtree is prepared to chaperone her henceforth.”
Stone narrowed his eyes. Tabetha had specifically informed him the night before that she would be at her mother’s at-home this afternoon. In fact, she’d been inordinately obliging when she’d consented to the excursion.
Had she perhaps been a tad… too obliging?
“She left?” Stone prompted. “Where to?”
“Shopping on Bond Street with Lady Felicity.”
“She took her maid?”
Westerly rubbed his chin. “One moment.” The earl excused himself to cross the room. He whispered something near his mother’s ear, and at her response, scowled deeply.
The hair on the back of Stone’s neck stood up. He wasn’t a suspicious person by nature, but he’d learned from experience not to ignore the sensation.
“Her maid is upstairs preparing gowns for the Benson-Riley affair.” Westerley wasn’t nearly as relaxed now. “You don’t think she’s fool enough to run off…?”
Stone’s hand landed on Westerley’s shoulder. “Culpepper’s. If he’s there, we’re wrong. But if he is not…”
His longtime friend nodded. “Bring the curricle around. I’ll send word to Greys and meet you in front.”
Stone agreed and then cursed himself as he descended the steps two at a time. He negotiated his way through the kitchen and then stepped outside via the servants’ entrance just as Creighton pulled up.
“Westerley’s waiting in front. Lady Tabetha is missing,” Stone said.
Rather than ask questions, his servant handed over the reins, jumped down, and then attached himself to the back of the vehicle as Stone signaled the horses into action.
Less than a minute later, he pulled them to a halt.
“How’s she treating you?” the earl asked as he settled onto the bench, running a hand along the sleek dashboard.
“Better than the finest courtesan,” Stone answered. “I’m having a similar one built for myself. But with thicker springs.” He passed a slow-moving barouche and frowned. “I should have realized she’d do something like this,” he muttered as much to himself as to Westerley.
“Not your fault, Spencer. I’ve been too distracted. With Charley, with talk of the new distillery. The blame falls squarely on me.”
“Hell, Westerley, you were on your honeymoon. I’m the one who should have anticipated this.”
The two of them sat in silence as they drove through familiar streets, guilt weighing heavily between them.
Stone couldn’t help but recall when his own sister went missing. It had likely been the worst forty-eight hours of his life. Their father had ordered the canals at Raven’s Park dragged and search parties had been sent out in every direction. Stone had never seen his mother so distraught.
They’d found Natalie safe, and mostly unharmed, but he’d never forget how terrifying the not-knowing had been. He’d not wish that on his worst enemy, let alone one of his best friends in the world.
“He may still be there. I could be wrong.” But Stone usually wasn’t wrong when he had these hunches.
Westerley didn’t bother reminding him of this.
“Is she really so intent on Culpepper?” Westerley scoffed.
Stone shook his head as he maneuvered the matching pair of bays between an ancient-looking carriage and an oncoming farm cart. “Where the hell did all this traffic come from? It might have been faster to get there on foot.”
“We don’t all have the endurance Chase does.” Westerley grasped hold of the seat when, seeing an opening, Stone urged the two horses faster.
“I’ve never known a chit so damned set on a title as your sister.”
“My father’s pet name for her was duchess. Beth and I teased her about it for years.” Westerley jerked his head, snapping his neck. “I thought she was joking.”