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C lad in an annoying walking dress that snagged on every bramble and blade of grass, Grace plodded along the old fence line that kept the cows from straying into the crops and grazing them down to nothing but stubble.

Gastric stayed beside her while her other hounds trotted up ahead, noses to the ground, snuffling for something exciting to chase.

As she meandered along, she snapped off the tops of the tallest grasses and imagined shoving them up Lady Longmorten’s nose—the author of the odious threat to stain not only Grace’s standing amongst the ton but her sisters’ reputations as well.

For if one Abarough sister fell, they all fell.

Even Chance would be somewhat marked by any gossip about his sisters.

The sad thing was, nothing the horrendous woman had said in her hastily scribbled note was untrue.

“And there’s the rub, Gastric,” Grace informed the sweet dog hopping alongside her.

His only response was a happy woof.

Oh, to be a carefree canine. She looked to the south, wondering what the unhappy Duke of Wolfebourne was doing at this very moment.

For he was unhappy with his life. Pure melancholy shouted from him.

Such a shame. When he smiled, his charm and strong good looks became almost overpowering.

She hitched in a deep breath and walked faster. If only…

The steady thud of hoofbeats at a hard gallop made her turn and shield her eyes from the sun. It was Jasper. On her horse. Something must be terribly wrong. “Come to me, lads!” she called to the dogs, then caught up her skirts and ran to meet the groom.

Jasper halted Pegasus and leapt from the saddle. “His Grace wants you back at the house, my lady.”

“What is wrong? What has happened?”

The lad shook his head. “All in the household are well so far as I know, but His Grace said to fetch you back quick as a minute.”

Irritated beyond belief, Grace yanked at her skirts.

“Dressed as I am, I can’t ride. Since this appears to be one of my brother’s whims, I shall return at my own pace.

” She kissed her horse’s nose. “We shall ride later, Pegasus. I promise.” With a nod at Jasper, she stepped aside.

“Inform His Grace I will get there when I get there.”

Ducking his head, the young man struggled not to smile. “Yes, my lady. Shall I keep Pegasus ready for your ride?”

“No, since I am unsure as to what His Grace wants.”

“Yes, my lady.” Jasper retook the saddle and turned the horse toward home, glancing back once to ensure she followed.

She snorted a bitter laugh. The groom knew her too well.

“Come along, my boys,” she told the dogs.

“We have been summoned.” She set off at a purposeful but not strenuous pace.

While she normally took great pleasure in annoying Chance, struggling with the complications that had come with the Duke of Wolfebourne had wearied her into a shocking state of compliance, and she was at a loss as to what to do about it.

She supposed all she could do was put the man out of her mind, but that was much easier said than done.

“I am better than this,” she told Gastric as he swaggered along beside her, his long ears swinging in time with every step. “When have you ever known me to be this silly over a man—a quarrelsome, judgmental, opinionated, and completely unavailable man? This is utterly ridiculous, Gastric.”

Gastric sneezed several times and pawed at his muzzle.

“Hold fast, old friend. We are nearly out of the tallest grass. I know how it tickles your nose.” As she looked up from her devoted companion, she caught sight of a carriage bearing the all-too-familiar ducal seal of a pair of wolves with their noses lifted in what appeared to be a long, mournful howl.

It was parked in the circular drive in front of the manor house.

“Oh, Gastric.” She allowed herself a groan.

“What does he want now?” Or worse yet, maybe it was Lady Margaret or Lady Longmorten—or both.

They would surely have use of the duke’s carriage.

After all, not only were they guests at Wolfebourne Lodge but also very nearly attached to the duke by marriage.

“Come, my lads.” She signaled the dogs to tighten their ranks and follow as she changed course and headed for the servant’s entrance into the kitchens.

She refused to enter the house without knowing what awaited her. Forewarned was forearmed.

The scullery maids looked up as she and her dogs entered. Busy preparing vegetables for the evening meal, they curtsied where they stood beside the worktable. The one on the end nearest to the ovens said, “Welcome, my lady. Cook! Lady Grace and her pups be here.”

A stout, older woman with silvery-white hair that always did its best to escape the confines of her ruffled cap toddled out of the pantry, hugging a large crock in each arm.

“The lads done had their soupbones, my lady, and Lucy and her pups done had their milk-soaked bread. Mr. Carson took it out to them some time ago.”

“Thank you, Cook, but that is not why I am here. You always feed my precious ones well.” Grace directed her dogs to take to their blankets along the wall beside the pantry, then edged over to the doorway that led to the dining room.

She pushed it open the barest crack and peeped out.

“What do you know about our guests?” she asked in a loud whisper.

Cook placed the crocks on the worktable with a heavy thump, then wiped her work-reddened hands on the apron lashed around her ample waist. “Old Walters fetched tea and cakes for four—His Grace, Lady Serendipity, and the Duke of Wolfebourne. He said nothing about who be the fourth, though.”

Grace knew the identity of the fourth. It was her. What in heaven’s name had happened now? Her heart fluttered into her throat, making her swallow hard. Had the duke ended his engagement to Lady Margaret? Was he here to…

No. Stop. Grace fisted her hands and forced herself to stop her ridiculous spiraling into the dangerous game of what if.

If the duke had broken his engagement off, then Lady Longmorten would have already shown up at the manor with her teeth bared and her claws unsheathed.

Grace knew that as surely as she knew her own reflection in the mirror.

The engagement was still intact. Gossip like that traveled like a raging fire burning across dry fields.

Every servant in the Lake District would have reported such an astonishing event to their masters.

“Did you happen to send any brandy with the tea?” she asked Cook.

The kindly old woman sadly shook her head. “You be the fourth, then?”

“I be the fourth.”

Cook nodded. “I figured so after—” She clamped her mouth shut and turned back to the worktable. “Be there anything else, my lady? Shall I give the pups extra scraps?”

Lovely. The servants knew everything. Grace had feared as much. “Yes, Cook. Please give the pups extra scraps and do not forget about sweet Lucy and her babies. They need more treats too.”

“It shall be done, my lady.” Cook looked up from the crock she was unsealing. “God be with you, Lady Grace. We all wish everything to go well for you.”

“Thank you.” Grace had no doubt the devoted servants only wanted the best for her.

She just didn’t like being at the center of their gossip.

Rather than dwell on the matter, she pushed through the doors and made her way to the main parlor, where she felt sure the pair of dukes, her brother and Wolfebourne, were holding court.

As she entered, she locked eyes with Chance and completely ignored Wolfebourne. “You summoned me, brother?”

“Gracie!” Chance glared at her, then pointedly tipped a nod at the duke. “Where are your manners? We have a guest.”

She spared the man an aloof curtsy but kept her gaze on the floor. “Your Grace.”

“Lady Grace.”

The sorrow in his deep voice washed across her and made her lift her head and look him in the eye. She swallowed hard at the pain she saw there. But this pain and worry was not because of her. The poor man was beside himself in misery. Alarm seized her heart. “Connor and Sissy—are they all right?”

“I cannot find them,” he said, his voice raw and raspy. “I prayed they had come here—to you.”

Panic threatened to choke her. “I was in the field with the dogs, walking the fence line. I have not seen them.” She shared a desperate look with Serendipity.

“I can’t abide the hindrance of these skirts while I help His Grace search for the children.

Pegasus and I can cover a great deal of ground if I change. ”

Serendipity gave a resigned nod, but Chance jumped to his feet. “No, Gracie! I forbid it.”

“You have no right to forbid me anything,” she told him.

“I am of age.” She granted Wolfebourne a gentle look that he more than deserved.

“And he has already seen me in my buckskins but was gallant enough to guard my secret and protect my reputation. Connor and Sissy are my friends. I intend to find them and see them safe.”

“You can’t ride alone with him,” Serendipity said, more than concern echoing in her tone. “Enough boundaries have been crossed.”

“Then come with us. You or Chance or any of the others.” Grace turned toward the door. “Whether chaperoned or not, I am going.” She looked to Wolfebourne. “You can use one of our horses to save time.” She turned to Chance. “Tell Jasper to get Pegasus ready. I shall be back down momentarily.”

“Gracie—please.” Her brother closed the distance between them and took hold of her hands. He opened his mouth to say more, but she silenced him with a hard look she knew he would understand.

“They are children, Chance, only seven years old, and there is so much out there that could harm them. Is the Abarough name, the Broadmere title, more important than the life of a child?” She stared him down, knowing he believed in the right answer even though it pained him to admit it.