Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,74

God his worry was all in vain. He hoped that when he arrived at their house, Dot and her father would be enjoying a quiet game of chess.

At no time in his thirty years had he ever felt more certain of impending danger than he had since he’d left Dot. Dear, sweet, loving Dot.

It shamed him now to recall how ambivalent he’d been to all her fine attributes when he’d first met her. Now that they’d grown close, he’d come to love everything about her.

That ridiculous affinity of hers for cats he now found endearing. It was only one facet of her loving nature. She had demonstrated how well she would fit into his family. She and Annie were already like sisters. She was also a fine daughter, and she would be an excellent wife.

His chest expanded when he thought of her becoming a mother, a mother to his children. She would be a wonderful mother. He swallowed hard, his very heart aching for this to come to pass.

Please, God, allow her to be safe.

When he had offered for her, he had not then known how fortunate he would be to have her for his wife. Why did it have to take this separation, this paralyzing worry, for him to realize how very dear she had become to him? Now he knew that he could have looked the length of England, from the moors of Yorkshire to the white cliffs of Dover, and he could not have found a finer woman than Dot to wed.

He would have been bored to death with a wife who lacked intelligence. He would never have to treat Dot as one would a dimwit.

The longer he knew her, the lovelier she had become. Her dark beauty stood out from all the insipidly fair maidens in the same way a swan stands out from a flock of mallards.

He longed to pull the pins from her luxurious mane of mahogany hair and comb his fingers through it. He never tired of looking into her near-black eyes. He yearned to draw the smooth curves of her luscious body against him and kiss her senseless.

Yet with every pound of his horse’s hooves, he agonized that he’d never see her again.

I’ll kill Henry Wolf.

* * *

He raced straight to her house. The butler informed him that the Pankhursts had gone to the theatre. Even though Appleton was covered with dust and most definitely not dressed for the Theatre Royal, he hurried there. He then fairly flew up the stairs, going straight to the Appleton box, oblivious to those staring after the ill-dressed interloper.

He froze when he saw her father seated there with Mrs. Blankenship. But no Dot. “Where’s Dot?” he demanded, panic in his voice.

Mr. Pankhurst turned around, a shocked look on his face when he saw how Appleton was dressed. “I’m not quite sure. She received a note at intermission and left. She said she’d be right back.”

“But that was some time ago,” Mrs. Blankenship interjected.

Appleton’s heart felt as it would pound out of his chest. “How long?”

Mr. Pankhurst’s lips pursed. “Perhaps fifteen minutes. I assume she joined some other young people.”

“Did she say who she was meeting?” Appleton asked.

“No.”

“Do you know where she was going?”

“To the foyer.”

Appleton was sick. He hoped to God he was wrong, but he was terrified she was with Henry Wolf at this very moment. “She’s in danger. We must find her.”

Mr. Pankhurst leapt from his seat.

“You look for her in the other boxes,” Appleton barked. “I’m going back downstairs.”

He rushed to a liveried doorman, who was now the sole occupant of the lobby. “Have you seen a young woman. . .” How could he describe Dot? He had no idea what she was wearing. “She has very dark hair, and I suspect she may have left the building at intermission.”

“There was one young woman with . . . I don’t mean no disrespect. . .”

“With a bounteous bosom?” Appleton supplied, hope welling in him.

The other man grinned. “Yes, sir. That’s how I would describe the young lady.”

“Was she alone?”

“It’s hard to say. She looked as if she was looking for someone and was reluctant to leave the building, but another bloke said something to her, and she did leave.” The doorman shrugged. “I got the impression the two were not together.”

“Did he follow her?”

The doorman nodded.

“Can you describe the man?”

“All I remember is his skin was uncommonly white.”

Appleton could have fallen to knees and wept like a woman. But he could not give