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Chapter Twenty-Six

“ Y ou look anxious, Your Grace,” Mrs. Alderwick remarked gently. “Don’t be. Everything is in order—their chambers, their meals, even the common rooms are set to entertain young ladies.”

Marianne gave a start, not realizing her face had betrayed her thoughts.

“I-It’s not what I’m worried about, Mrs. Alderwick,” she began, then paused, catching herself before she said too much. “But thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done—and continue to do—for us.”

The housekeeper offered a small, warm smile. “My pleasure, Your Grace. It’s been some time since Oakmere had this much youth in its halls.”

Marianne merely nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to explain the real reason behind her unease—that she feared the weekend might bring more disappointment. Or worse, bad news.

While Mrs. Alderwick busied herself with linens and menus, Marianne was bracing her mind. Hers was the preparation of quiet dread.

The chaos descended promptly, as it always did, with her sisters’ arrival.

Perseus and Serafina brought their own particular brand of mischief, but the girls… Oh, the girls brought life, sound, and relentless energy. For two days at least, Oakmere would feel like a home, not a mausoleum.

And best of all, she had pulled her sisters free, if only briefly, from their father’s grip.

She greeted them in the hall, hugging each one tightly. Her smile came easily when they were near—genuine, unrestrained.

“Where is Lizzie?” she asked as her sisters filed in, her eyes scanning the entryway in vain.

Wilhelmina’s sigh was deep and heavy. The look on her face said everything.

“It’s Father again, isn’t it?” Marianne pressed, her smile faltering. “Is he pushing her to secure a match?”

Wilhelmina gave a solemn nod. “It looks like it.”

Marianne’s heart clenched. She wanted to rage. How could her father go back on their agreement?

But she forced her worry down and turned her full attention to her other sisters. She hugged the twins with extra warmth and kissed their hair as if she could protect them through touch alone.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice soft, her heart swelling at the sight of them.

“I missed you so much!” Daphne threw her arms around her again. “I wish I could stay here forever.”

“I’d like that too. But you know Father still makes all the decisions—for now,” Marianne added with a touch of bitterness.

“Oakmere’s too quiet, and the Duke always looks like he’s swallowed a lemon,” Victoria chimed in with her usual irreverent flair. “But I do prefer being with you.”

Marianne laughed, the sound surprising even herself. “I’m glad to hear it. Let’s get you all settled into your rooms. Perhaps you should start decorating them, make them feel more like your own.”

“Wouldn’t the Duke be angry about that?” Victoria asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“He wouldn’t mind,” Marianne replied.

This time, she was sure.

Somehow, she knew that Dominic wouldn’t object. He would perhaps grumble, but he wouldn’t stop them. Not after letting Perseus and Serafina practically rule the estate.

“Hmm. Well, I want to play a game later,” Victoria declared, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

Marianne smiled, warmth returning. Victoria’s joy was a sort of resilience, a spark that even their father hadn’t managed to extinguish.

“Later,” she said with a chuckle. “But first, you all must clean up and get ready for lunch.”

“Will the Duke be there?” Daphne asked, her voice quiet, a little unsure.

“For lunch?” Marianne hesitated. “He’s been rather preoccupied of late. You likely won’t see him—at lunch or at all today.”

“Good,” Victoria muttered.

“Victoria!” Daphne gasped.

“What? I’m being honest. Still, I suppose I should regret missing my generous benefactor,” Victoria added with mock solemnity, straightening her bodice as though it were a coat.

Marianne rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered.

If Victoria were a few years older, she’d have made a fine match for a wealthy, distracted duke. She would’ve enjoyed the independence, the power, and certainly the house.

Marianne herself enjoyed those on occasion, even though she found herself more drawn by her husband.

Whether that was good or not, she didn’t know.

The rest of the day slipped by, easy and light in their company. Hours after lunch, as promised, it was time to give Victoria her game.

While the morning had been damp, the rain clouds were completely at bay by early afternoon. Sunlight streamed into the house, filling its cold corners with warmth and giving it the life the girls deserved.

The twins were energized by the light. Even Daphne, usually the quieter one, gurgled with excitement. But it was Victoria, as always, who put their wishes into words.

“You promised we would play a game!” she declared, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I did no such thing,” Marianne muttered, though her tone lacked conviction.

It was becoming clear that she would have all the time in the world with her sisters this weekend. Dominic hadn’t shown himself all day. It was as though he had quietly given up on her—and her family—after Perseus’s last tantrum.

“Please, Marianne. There’s nothing much to do, and why waste all the space here at Oakmere?”

Victoria did have a point. Oakmere, for all its elegance, was empty without laughter. It had been a long time since children had played in its halls, and Dominic had never expressed any desire to sire an heir.

The thought warmed Marianne’s cheeks before she could stop it.

“Hide and seek!” Victoria squealed. “Mina, you count, and the rest of us will hide!”

Marianne hesitated. The idea of being dragged into a game made her heart beat a little too fast. It felt exhausting—emotionally so.

Her mind drifted again to Dominic. He hadn’t appeared in any of the hallways they’d passed, hadn’t joined any meals.

Where is he?

Images of him intruded again—muddied boots, open shirt, that maddeningly broad chest. She longed to cling to that shirt, trace the lines of his chest with her fingers, inhale the clean, masculine scent of earth and pine.

“Please, Marianne! This place needs exploring!” Victoria cried, bouncing in place.

Marianne almost corrected her—exploring didn’t need to be a game—but what was she worried about, really?

“All right, then,” she relented with a sigh.

Her sisters’ hopeful faces reminded her of happier times, before she was married, before everything had become so difficult.

“Clara will accompany you, of course. Everywhere on the estate is fair, but no going upstairs, no venturing into the west wing, and leave the servants’ quarters alone—some of the servants may be resting. ”

“Yes, Marianne,” the twins chorused.

Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. Marianne simply shrugged, and her sixteen-year-old sister rolled her eyes heavenward, sighing like someone thrice her age.

“I will accompany them, Your Grace,” Clara said with quiet assurance. Her tone was calm but firm—an unspoken promise.

“Thank you, Clara.”

“Remember, you’re part of this, Marianne!” Victoria called out with an impish grin. It sounded suspiciously like a threat.

“Don’t worry. I’ll count.”

True to her word, Marianne turned to the wall, resting her forehead gently against it and squeezing her eyes shut. She began to count—loudly and slowly—to give the girls time to run.

Their giggles echoed down the hallway, joined by the thump of hurried footsteps and the creak of distant doors.

For the first time in ages, Oakmere sounded alive.

Marianne counted to fifty, stopping long after the last giggle faded. Then, she turned and set off to seek them. Wilhelmina and Clara trailed behind. Neither had tried to hide, but they were playing along for the younger girls’ sake.

They found Daphne easily. She was in the music room, hiding behind the velvet curtains, her feet clearly visible underneath.

Marianne had to smother a laugh as she pulled the curtain aside. “Caught you!”

Daphne shrieked in delight, more pleased than disappointed.

“You’re a hopeless conspirator,” Wilhelmina teased, nudging her younger sister. “Come on, let’s get you to the drawing room. Stay there and read. We’ll find the other menace.”

Daphne nodded agreeably, settling in with Wilhelmina’s book.

The rest of them moved on. Marianne thought she heard something in the library and raised a finger to her lips. Clara and Wilhelmina went still, excitement brightening their faces. Perhaps Victoria had picked an obvious spot, after all.

They crept into the library. A shadow seemed to flicker beneath the writing desk. Marianne’s pulse quickened with anticipation—and wariness. Victoria didn’t always take losing well.

She knelt and looked under the desk.

But there was no Victoria, only a pair of forgotten knitting needles.

“I really thought she went this way,” Marianne murmured, frowning.

Perhaps it had been too easy. Victoria was never easy. Even as a baby, she’d wailed and kicked and kept them all awake.

Room by room, they continued searching—the dining room, under the stairs, behind the grandfather clock—but Victoria was nowhere to be found.

“Your Grace,” Clara said tightly, “I believe I should alert the staff.”

Marianne nodded, forcing calm into her voice. “Go on ahead. Start with the housemaids.”

Clara curtsied quickly and vanished down the corridor.

Marianne remained still for a moment, her hand drifting to her throat.

She couldn’t breathe.

Panic was settling in now, slow but sure, like a shadow stretching across the floor.

She should have said no. She should have let Victoria throw a tantrum.

Anything would have been better than this. Better than her little sister going missing.

Dominic had no reason to be in the west wing corridor. He hated this place. And yet it called to him quietly, insistently.

A place of shadows and silence. Of secrets far too familiar.

Here, his footsteps echoed louder than they should have, bouncing off the high ceilings and faded walls.

Why have I come?