Page 19

Not that it would ever stop her, no. Not now when the heavens seemed to have finally answered her prayers and dropped a woman of marriageable age and acceptable looks right into her lap.

He walked into the dining hall, gearing himself up for a glowing litany of Lady Scarlett’s finer traits.

Instead, he was met with two distraught women and a noticeably missing redhead. His heart rate should not have quickened, but it did.

Where is she? Why is she not here?

“Oh, Hudson! Thank goodness you have arrived!” his mother cried, rushing over to him.

The Dowager Countess of Southford remained silent, her pale lips trembling as her hands constantly worried her handkerchief into knots.

Alarm pierced through him like a hot blade.

“Is something amiss?” he asked.

His mother nodded, her eyes wide with worry. “We were just about to sit down for breakfast when Lady Scarlett claimed she heard something crying outside. She rushed out before we could stop her, and she has not been back since!”

Hudson pointedly ignored the fact that his mother apparently did not bother to wait for him.

“How long has Lady Scarlett been gone?” he asked.

“About half an hour, Your Grace.” Lady Southford’s voice was barely above a whisper.

His eyes narrowed as he turned towards the other servants, who immediately ducked their heads.

“And none of you bothered to stop her?” he demanded. “Or even accompany her?”

It was still raining heavily outside. His hands clenched into fists at the thought of her in that downpour. What if she was hurt? What if she had slipped in the mud and injured herself?

The bloody, little fool.

“Angus!” he called out.

His valet appeared almost instantly with a heavy coat in his arms. “Right here, Your Grace.”

Hudson gave him an appreciative nod. At least one of his servants still possessed some measure of intelligence.

“As soon as the rain slows down, send the men to scour the estate for Lady Scarlett,” he barked at Dalton. “The search will only be called off once the young lady is safe or I myself say so. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“She could not have wandered off very far,” Lady Southford murmured. “Just that the rain…”

The woman probably knew her daughter too well to expect the best-case scenario.

“Wherever she is, Hudson will find her,” the Dowager Duchess consoled her with a pat on her hands. “There, there, Lady Southford. Perhaps we should head to the parlor. Your hands are so cold—nothing that a spot of tea cannot cure.”

Hudson caught his mother’s glance. The message was clear in her bright eyes.

“Find her.”

He tipped his head briefly in response before sweeping out of the dining hall and striding out into the rain.

He was going to find Lady Scarlett, and when he did, she had better have a good excuse, or else she would not like the consequences of her actions.

Hudson would make sure of it.

A quarter of an hour into his search, he found her huddled under a tree, her body shivering in the cold, her red hair plastered to her face.