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Christopher splashed cold water on his face. He had never been so exhausted and yet so awake. Fear crept down his spine. He had believed they would have found Deborah by now. He didn’t think she’d left the estate, but he’d been wrong.

Wrong about so many things.

His sisters didn’t need a brother; they needed a guardian.

A father figure. And since their own father had passed, it was his responsibility to protect and guide them.

He had married Sarah hoping that she could curb Deb’s temper and improve her manners, but the responsibility had always been his.

Christopher had been hesitant to criticize his sister or to take her to task for her mistakes.

His father had seen only Christopher’s foibles and physical deformity, never his heart or hopes.

But love required both caring and correction. He would do better.

Christopher watched Sarah pet her horse’s mane.

Her dress was rumpled and her hair a mess.

Besides swimming, he’d never seen her appear anything but pristine and perfect.

She looked more approachable like this. Less like a lady and more like his wife.

Her eyes looked puffy and tired, but she had not gone back to sleep.

She had come to help find his sister. Christopher didn’t blame her one whit for Deb’s behavior.

The two people who were culpable were himself and Deborah.

He knew his wife cherished him and that this was one of the reasons she was here.

She also cared for his headstrong and wayward sister.

But the primary reason she’d come was because she hadn’t been able to find her mother; if she helped find Christopher’s sister, perhaps she could finally close that sad chapter of her life.

His stomach rumbled with hunger.

Sarah gave him a tired smile and then a little laugh. “I suppose we are both a little worse for wear this morning, Husband.”

Christopher felt a surge of warmth and happiness at that one word: husband . “I have drunk straight from a river, something, as a canal man, I would never recommend doing. But needs must.”

Letting go of the reins of her horse, Sarah came toward him and began unbuttoning his shirt, which was askew. She lined up the garment correctly and rebuttoned it for him. Her gloved hand patted his chest. “There.”

He covered her hand with his own. “Sarah, I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me that you are here. Your presence fills me with strength.”

She raised one eyebrow. “And hope?”

Christopher picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. “Enough hope to fill up the world.”

“We’ll find her. I feel it in my heart.”

He continued to hold her smaller hand in his. “And I in mine.”

Yawning, Sarah pointed to the first tendrils of light filtering through the leaves of the forest. The sun was beginning to rise.

Their search would be much easier in the light.

“I think we should form a line from the river to the pike road. There are enough of us that we should be able to space ourselves every fifteen to twenty feet. And I believe we should follow the river. The horse Deborah took did not bolt back to his stall, so he must have been confused about where he was. I assume, although I could be wrong, that he lost his rider closer in the forest to Manderfield Hall.”

Squeezing her hand, Christopher nodded. “I cannot think of a better plan to find her. You are good at everything you do, Sarah. You would make an excellent canal foreman.”

His wife raised both of her eyebrows. “Are canal foremen allowed to swim with their husbands?”

Rubbing his beard, Christopher shook his head.

“Then, I am not interested.”

He felt his lips twitch upward. “Still, I am grateful for your organizational skills. Allow me to help you onto your mount, dove.”

He cupped his hands for her, and Sarah placed her boot inside them. He lifted her up onto the back of her horse, and once she had the reins, he swung up onto his own steed. Christopher nodded to Sarah, and she explained her plan to the grooms and Mr. Phipps.

Mr. Phipps squashed his hat back onto his head. “’Tis a good plan, Lady Sarah.”

Christopher and Sarah rode about fifteen feet apart in the middle section, the grooms flanking them.

Christopher urged his horse into a steady walk.

It was better to be thorough than it was to be fast. Having worked near harbors and in the canal business, he knew that if one did not find a missing person in the first day, the chances of ever locating them were small.

The world was a dangerous place, and naval-press gangs were known to prey upon those who were alone.

But Deborah was not a man, nor was she alone, and the sort of madams who preyed upon innocent young girls were, thankfully, not to be found in the middle of Warwickshire.

“Deborah!” he called, but there was no response besides the twittering of the birds.

He swallowed down his fear and made his mind focus on looking at every tree, rock, nook, and cranny.

His sister might be hurt or incapable of speaking.

Christopher’s heartbeat quickened, but he forced himself to keep a steady pace.

He could see Sarah on his right side and Mr. Phipps on his left. He needed to stay with the line.

It took nearly an hour to go a mile in the thick bush of the woods, yet they were still no closer to finding his sister.

The trees were closer together in this section of the forest, and it had several steep drop-offs.

Tugging on the reins of his horse, he led the animal around a large rock.

He now understood why the locals kept to the trails, like the path that Sarah had taken over to the river.

He heard a mewling sound, and at first, he thought it was the trill of the river gliding over the rocks, but the closer he got to it, the more certain he was that it was human.

“Deborah,” he called again.

Bringing his horse to a halt, he listened intently for over a minute before he heard her reply. “Chris! Chris, help me.”

His sister sounded like she was still far away from him. He pulled the roughhewn wooden whistle that Mr. Phipps had given him and brought it to his lips. Breathing in deeply, he let out three loud blasts of air.

Sarah was the first person to come to his side. “Did you find something?”

“I heard her. I think she must be somewhere near.”

A tear ran down her cheek as she smiled. “I am so relieved.”

“As am I.” Leaning over, he brushed away her tear.

Mr. Phipps, Guy, and the five grooms arrived shortly after, and Sarah suggested they get off their horses and walk—they would be less likely to miss Deborah that way.

Taking the reins of his tired chestnut, Christopher continued forward slowly with Sarah at his side.

After nearly five minutes of walking, he stopped and called again. “Deborah, where are you?”

“I’m in a pit, and I have turned my ankle, Chris. I cannot stand or get out.” Her voice was louder and clearer now.

Guy pointed northeast. “Her voice came from that direction of the forest.”

The group turned slightly and continued forward, the brush so thick that Christopher could barely walk through it, and his poor chestnut struggled to follow him.

He watched as Sarah’s skirts kept getting caught in the undergrowth, but she didn’t stop, nor slow down; she merely kept forging ahead.

The bottom of her dress now had more burrs than flounces.

Christopher cupped his hands together. “Deb, keep talking so we can find you.”

“I tumbled over the neck of my horse onto some sharp rocks and then fell down this horrible hole,” Deb said, her voice stronger.

“My whole body is covered with dirt and bruises—but that isn’t the worst part.

I felt something strange at the bottom of the hole in the night, and now that it is light, I am in a filthy pit with a skeleton.

Did you hear me? A skeleton! Nothing but rags and nasty old bones. ”

He was grateful for the loud voice of his sister, but when she said “bones,” he felt a shiver crawl down his neck.

He prayed the skeleton belonged to a peasant from hundreds of years before, but he feared that they may have finally found the Countess of Manders.

His eyes darted to Sarah, but her face showed only relief.

His wife had not jumped to the same conclusion; perhaps he was merely being fanciful. He hoped he was.

“Is there anything in the pit with you besides the bones?” he asked.

“Mud and muck. It smells like a barn. I haven’t been able to get one lick of sleep all night long.”

Neither had he or any of their servants. He did not have much compassion for Deb’s sleepless state, nor did it seem that she had any thoughts about how her actions had affected those around her. And it was Christopher’s duty to teach her.

Following her voice, they found his sister in the bottom of a sinkhole.

He pulled back the green overgrowth that covered the pit from their view.

It was nearly eight feet deep. Deb was right; it was smelly, and there was a skeleton on the side opposite his sister.

Without her voice, he never would have seen the sinkhole, as it was surrounded by a cluster of granite boulders and three thick trees.

He wasn’t surprised that his little sister had said she was covered in bruises.

It was a miracle that she had survived such a fall.

“Can you stand up, Deborah, and take a rope if we lower one to you?” Sarah asked. “Or does someone need to lift you out?”

His sister stuck out her chin defiantly. “I don’t need your help, Lady Sarah . This is all your fault!”

Christopher glanced at his wife and saw red blotches on her neck—he doubted she had ever been insulted to her face. “Well, I suppose that if you don’t want Sarah’s help, we will just leave then,” he said.

Sarah stepped back from the pit.

“Chris! You wouldn’t!” Deb shrieked, a slight tinge of fear in her voice.