Chapter 24
When Christopher found the door of the ducal suite still locked well after eight, he changed course and went to the kitchens instead, helping himself to a heaping pile of kippers in cream sauce. Sofia would likely be late to rise as well. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her last night. Every kiss, meant to be the last, had led to another, and another. And she had been just as hungry for him.
After he had finally mustered the fortitude to step away, she’d raised her hands to his hair, combing her fingers to tidy the locks she had only just sent into disarray. There was such tenderness in her expression, almost wifely. It had taken every bit of his strength not to pull her back into his arms, restarting the cycle all over again.
He smiled at his fish. She would marry him, and he would spend the rest of his life making sure she was glad that she had.
“Christopher.”
He blinked.
“Christopher! Quit your wool-gathering and finish your food. We need the space to prepare for the picnic today. If you aren’t going to help, then get out of my kitchen,” Mrs Simmons chided gently. “And while you’re at it, take a plate out to Mr Lioni.”
Setting a plate in his hands, she shooed him out the door. It would be a fine day for a picnic. The cool breeze from the previous evening seemed reluctant to leave, heralding the coming of the crisp amber days of autumn. Finding the cabin empty, he left the food on Oliver’s bed and changed directions to the pond where Oliver would likely be swimming. He paused as Zach’s voice carried across the sprawling garden. He and Oliver were tossing a ball back and forth.
“They wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t come,” Zach said sullenly.
“Of course they wouldn’t. Your mama lays out stepping stones to ready a path wherever you go. It’s what mamas who love their boys are supposed to do. And if you stay away today, she will think that the stones she placed were simply too large a leap for your legs to make.”
Zach stared at the ground, squeezing the ball in his hand. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know what anyone means. Why can’t people just say what makes sense instead of comparing every emotion and circumstance to something entirely unrelated?”
Oliver chuckled.
“Stop laughing at me. I don’t like that.”
“Little Englishman, you need to learn to find humour in your uniqueness. No matter what you do, people are going to see what sets you apart. And if you are ashamed of who you are, they will take everything that makes you special and use it to cut you down. Don’t arm them.”
Zach threw the ball back rather harder than necessary, and Oliver lurched to catch it with his fingers. Noticing Christopher, Oliver nodded, but didn’t invite him into the conversation. Christoper took the hint, remaining silent.
“It’s easy for you to say that. You’re just like everyone else,” Zach mumbled.
“If you took your eyes off the grass long enough to look at me, you might notice that I’m not like everyone else.”
Zach looked up, annoyance still obvious on his face. “I noticed. But lots of people have brown skin.”
“Yes, and one glance at my brown skin is all it takes for most people to decide that they know everything they need to know about who I am. It’s up to me to prove them wrong. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. And they are wrong, Zach. About me. About you. Make no mistake. We can either allow their opinion to become our own or we can learn to carry our self-worth so deep inside that it is untouchable by others.”
Zach was silent for a moment, a frown of concentration between his eyes, then he looked up again. “The stepping stones… you mean she tries to make things easy for me?” Sadness had crept back into his voice, and Christopher resisted the urge to put an end to the uncomfortable conversation.
“Si.” Oliver tossed the ball back gently.
“Because she doesn’t think I can handle”—he scrunched his face in concentration—“stepping… in the mud.” The analogy was awkwardly delivered but accurate.
“Maybe. Or, because she is a woman who loves deeply, as women sometimes do, and she cannot handle the thought of you struggling. My sister would do the same for me, and I’ve let her… too many times.”
“I hate that my mama is right.”
“Maybe she’s right. Or maybe, after a bit of a slippery struggle, you would find what you need inside to trudge the remainder of the way. We all need stepping stones sometimes. You’re lucky to have a family who will never allow you to become bogged down deeper than you can withstand.” Zachariah was watching Oliver intently now.
“I hate that I still need her so much. Hate that I always seem to bungle the simplest things without her. Men are supposed to take care of the women in their life. Not the other way around.”
“Si. I know just how you feel. I could say the same of my relationship with Sofia. But we don’t have to keep being the same men we were yesterday. We aren’t done growing until we become foolish enough to stop trying to be more. To be better. I’m not finished trying. Hell, I feel like I’ve only just begun. How old are you, Zach?”
“Fifteen at the end of the month.”
“Nearly a man. A man respects his own limitations, sets his own boundaries… makes his own stepping stones. Because only he knows the length of his stride and the measure of his own endurance. Go or don’t go Zach, but tell your mama what you intend to do. Think about your limitations and your strengths and find a way to build a bridge between the two.”
Zach nodded, clearly taking Oliver’s words to heart.
Finally, Oliver acknowledged Christopher. “Good morning. Have you seen my sister?”
“Good morning, Zach, Oliver. No, I have not. I was looking for her myself. She’s not at the cabin. I just stopped by to deliver a mountain of food from the kitchens for you. Apparently, Mrs Simmons has taken offence to your rapid weight loss. Zach, have you eaten? If not, perhaps you’d like to break your fast with Mr Lioni.”
“Oliver is fine,” Oliver corrected, still watching Zach with a queer expression on his face.
“I can search her out while you two fill your stomachs and prepare for the busy day.”
Zach threw the ball into the air several times and caught it. “Yes. I’d like that.”
“Have you seen Nora this morning, Zach?” Christopher asked. “Perhaps Sofia is with her?”
Zach missed the ball and scooped it back up to continue his game. “Nora was in the stables not long ago. She was waiting for Gabriel. He promised yesterday that he would ride with her out to the old ruins. But Miss Lioni wasn’t there.”
After returning to the kitchens, where no one had seen Sofia, and performing a quick sweep of the downstairs rooms, Christopher went to her bedroom door and knocked. It was half past nine and he was beginning to worry she was feeling unwell.
“Sofia?” he called out, then cracked the door to peer inside. The curtains were drawn, the bed made. He had no idea if she had risen and tidied it herself or if the bed had not been occupied overnight, but anxiety was beginning to slink through his veins in earnest.
Further down the hall, he rapped on the door of the ducal suite, then tried the handle. It turned.
“Gabriel? Violet?”
“Come in, Christopher. What’s the matter?”
“Probably nothing, but I can’t find Sofia. No one has seen her.”
“All right. I was headed out for a hack with Nora. Let’s check there and employ Nora’s help in finding her,” Gabriel said.
Twenty minutes more and no one had seen Sofia. The tickle of worry had calcified into cold hard dread that sat heavy in Christopher’s stomach. Along the path back to the cabin, they met Violet, who had searched the rose garden.
“Nora, take Jeremy and run out to the apple orchard to look,” Gabriel said, sending the girl scampering off at a run. “I’ll have a pair of footmen search the winter garden, outbuildings, and the carriage house and ask a maid to check her room more thoroughly for a note.”
Christopher’s memory drifted to the men in town, their expressions and the way they had set his teeth on edge. He turned to Gabriel.
“Gabriel. There’s something… Christ.” He burrowed his fingers through his hair.
“Out with it.”
Christopher nodded. “Oliver ran up some gambling debts before he came here. He and I rode out to the village earlier this week to make good on them. Everything about the men he paid off felt threatening. I paid what Oliver owed but they didn’t seem satisfied.”
Gabriel’s shoulders stiffened, his expression dark. “You should have told me. If you were concerned, you should have let me know. You put Violet and the children at risk, along with Sofia. I would have had men keeping watch if I thought there was the slightest risk of trouble.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry for it. I didn’t think anything would come of them, but now…” He groaned and started walking again, picking up speed with every step. Violet caught up with Christopher and looped her arm through his. “Ignore him, Christopher. We know you wouldn’t intentionally put any of us in harm’s way. She’s probably at the cabin right now.”
Christopher glanced back to Gabriel, whose expression remained remote. He covered Violet’s hand with his and tried to smile, then called out to Oliver and Zach, who were outside the cabin stacking firewood.
“I can’t find Sofia. We’ve searched everywhere else on the estate. Tell me she’s here.” Christopher made to look inside but froze with a glance in Oliver’s direction.
There was something wrong in his sudden stillness, and the small hairs on Christopher’s neck stood on end. Then the firewood in Oliver’s hands toppled to the ground. His arm flung wide to borrow support from the wooden structure beside him. “Cosa ho fatto.” It was as if every drop of blood had drained from Oliver’s face.
“In English, man! What do you know? Did they take her? Why would they take her?” Christopher asked, frantic.
Oliver seemed unaware of his questions, his face blank. Whirling in a blaze of helpless anxiety, Christopher kicked a nearby wooden stool into the air. It landed several feet away with a clatter. “Fucking hell, Oliver! Enough with the secrets. What’s happening? Where is she?” Christopher forced air in and out of his lungs, trying to slow down a world that was spinning out of control.
He took a menacing step towards Oliver. “You will tell me everything that you know. Now. I’m not an idiot, Oliver. I know that Sofia has been keeping something from me. Something that was distressing to her.” His pulse pounded in his temples with every step as he stalked towards the much larger man, bent on tearing him to shreds if he didn’t provide an answer.
Zach’s hesitant voice slipped through the scarlet of Christopher’s rage. “Oliver is related to Gabriel… somehow.”
Christopher stopped, looking first towards Zachariah, then to Oliver, then to Gabriel, who appeared equally stunned.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Zach said with a calmness that was the antithesis of everyone else’s current emotions. “The shape of his eyes, the angular jaw, his bone structure. His smile when he looks at Sofia. Oliver even doles out advice in a similar fashion.”
Leave it to the artist among them to see beyond the colour of the paint.
“Brother,” Oliver grunted. “Gabriel is my half brother. We share the same sire.”
Christopher could not stop looking between the men.
Gabriel stared unblinkingly at Oliver but he didn’t look entirely surprised. “That you were my sibling hadn’t even crossed my mind. I thought perhaps a cousin.” He raised both eyebrows and shook his head.
“Brother!” Christopher pinned Oliver with a momentary glare then whirled on Gabriel. “You knew?” He narrowed his eyes at Violet. “Which means you both knew and said nothing to me.”
Gabriel shifted, shielding Violet from Christopher. “Only suspected. And only since that first night he came to dinner. I put my solicitor on it, searching for possible connections between our two families, but he hasn’t yet replied.”
“Older or younger brother?” Christopher snarled the question, his glare shifting to Oliver as the full weight of the situation crashed over him.
“Older or younger, you fucking bastard!” Christopher’s fists clenched painfully. His entire body clenched, ready to spring, to fight, to destroy this man who would hurt his dearest friend. My dearest friend who withheld a massive secret from me. Tears sprang to his eyes and he quickly whisked them away. “The old duke was widowed before his marriage to the dowager. They had a son that died in infancy… are you? Fucking hell, are you…” He couldn’t even speak the words. All the air rushed out on a jarring exhale. Then pressing up from beneath the shock and crushing rage of betrayal, worry for Sofia resurfaced, smothering every other emotion in his heart.
“It doesn’t matter now.” Christopher wrenched his gaze away from Oliver. “None of this matters. Sofia is what matters.” Gabriel’s hand landed solidly on Christopher’s shoulder. He squeezed, then he turned to Oliver. “Do you know where she is? Is she in danger?”
Christopher was trembling.
Oliver looked as if he might vomit.
Zach appeared baffled at Christopher’s sudden, uncharacteristic tirade.
Violet had gone still and pale.
But Gabriel was every bit the duke, steady and composed, unshakeable even in the face of unspeakable devastation. The ground had split in two, ripping the trunks of massive trees to splinters, but Gabriel did not flinch. When he spoke, he was grace itself.
“Take a breath, Oliver. Tell me what you know so we can ensure your sister’s safe.”
Oliver’s throat worked as he swallowed. He scrubbed his hands across his face. “Before I arrived here, when I was drunk, I told a group of men at the poker table who I was. I showed them what proof I had of my birth. I used it as collateral for another game. Another drink.”
Gabriel nodded, no more riled than if he had just been told the weather would be poor for a fox hunt. “And you think these men might have your sister?”
Oliver drew in a shuddering breath. “Last night, Sofia realised what I had done and begged me to talk to them. To try to convince them that I was no one but a foolish man who would tell any lie for another drink. I promised her I would.” Oliver inched closer to Gabriel, met him with imploring eyes. “I came here to blackmail you. I was angry and stupid and I wanted to hurt you, but I don’t want that now. I haven’t wanted that for a long time.”
Gabriel nodded again. “You think she went to talk to these men herself? Would she know where to find them?”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “I told her everything. I didn’t think?—”
“Of course she went, you stupid prick!” Christopher threw his hands in the air and began pacing. “She did it to keep your secret so she could go on lying to me… to all of us. Stubborn, fearless, independent little wretch didn’t need anyone’s help.” Christopher spat the words out.
“The public house is in the village. I know the name of one of the men,” Oliver said.
Gabriel tugged at the sleeves of his topcoat, nodding decisively. “Violet, take Zachariah back to the house and stay there. Have Bennett get word to the Justice of the Peace. Apprise him of the situation with regards to Sofia and have him look in on—What’s his name?”
“Simms,” Oliver supplied.
“Have him check on Simms. No matter how long we are away, remain inside until I return.” Gabriel’s eyes clung to Violet’s for a long moment before she grabbed Zach by the hand and pulled him towards home.
“Keene, gather men to fan out around the estate and woods between here and the village. Have them pay close attention to any buildings or old hunting lodges. Anywhere they might have taken Sofia. Oliver, go to the stables and have them ready horses for us. Can you shoot?”
Oliver nodded.
“Good. I’ll see that Violet and Zachariah are safely back indoors, retrieve pistols, and meet you both at the stables. We’ll ride to the village first and see if anyone has seen her. If they accosted Sofia, it’s likely they did so on the road between the public house and the estate. We’ll find her.” Gabriel inserted himself into the path of Christopher’s pacing.
“Christopher.”
He stopped shy of running into Gabriel. “You must know how it hurt me to keep this from you. I wanted to be sure. To know more. But we’ll find her. We’ll bring her home and then we’ll talk.”
“This is not her home. It doesn’t even feel like my home.” Gabriel flinched, but Christopher’s despair was too all-consuming to care about the pain he’d inflicted. Turning, he fled at full speed towards the servants’ entrance.