Chapter 22 #2
Sophia narrowed her eyes. “And how is it that you are so chipper this evening? We were both up all night and, to my knowledge, I had more of a nap than you did.”
“Bah. I do not need much sleep, miss. Never have!” Briggs smiled brightly and tidied up the vanity while Sophia stood and stretched.
“I am green with envy.” And she was. She was quite useless without sleep, and during her years of servitude, there had been many an early morning she had gone about her duties with a scowl and her eyes half closed.
Now it was evening and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.
Charlie was safe, but Sophia had spent nearly two hours by herself in her chamber that morning crying and crying until she finally fell into a puddle of exhausted sleep.
Her eyelids were still puffy even after Brigg’s application of a cold spoon, and her face was pale.
She pinched her cheeks and smoothed her hands over her dress. It was the color of honey, and it matched her hair and eyes to perfection. A beautiful dress couldn’t disguise a pallid complexion, but it did much to raise her spirits.
Since all the details for the midnight picnic at the ruins had been arranged weeks in advance, Lady Pilkington had insisted the party remain on the evening schedule.
Sophia did learn that “midnight” was a rough estimate; it was already dark outside, nearing the ten o’clock hour, and the procession would soon be underway.
Sophia bid Briggs a good evening and followed a general hum of noise down to the front foyer and atrium, where lovely dresses blended with crisp suits and army uniforms of gray and white.
The Seadon women were present, and Sophia dearly wished to ask where they had been the night before when the entire household was turned on its ear looking for a missing child.
When word of Charlie’s disappearance had circulated, Lissa had bustled her mother and cousin up to their rooms, claiming her mother had a “bear of a headache.”
Sophia searched through the small groupings of people, circled through the atrium, and finally spied Lady Pilkington and Anthony near the front door, speaking with a gentleman Sophia did not recognize.
He was of middle age, his blond hair turning to gray at the temples, his physique fit, his smile warm.
“Lord Braxton, of course! And how is Lady Braxton?” Lady Pilkington smiled at the gentleman as Sophia approached.
“Ill, I am afraid. London air is always difficult for her, so she recuperates at Bath.”
Lady Pilkington’s expression was appropriately sympathetic. “And your daughter?”
Braxton smiled at the woman, his eyes seeming to twinkle. “She has her first Season in a year. I can hardly believe it.”
Lord Braxton’s eyes landed on Sophia as she shifted closer to Anthony. His attention returned to Lady Pilkington, a brow expectantly raised.
“Yes,” Lady Pilkington said and put her hand on Sophia’s back. “Lord Braxton, Miss Sophia Elliot. I am her sponsor.”
Sophia curtseyed and allowed Braxton to lift her fingers and bow very nicely over her hand. He kissed her gloved fingers and regarded her with rich brown eyes. “I know your brother, Earl Stansworth, of course. Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” she murmured. Handsome, charming—possibly too much charm.
She had seen his kind in spades from afar as they wandered through her former employers’ balls and soirees.
She and the other maids had often labeled such men as “Don Juan,” from the old Spanish tales, and the majority of the time, the moniker held true.
She felt a brush against her back and realized Anthony had stepped close to her. Too close, really, but when she tried to subtly shift, she felt his hand grasp the fabric at the small of her back.
“Lord Braxton is here for business, unfortunately, not as a sightseeing traveler.” Anthony’s voice sounded just behind her, and she strove to keep her face blandly polite.
What on earth? Tension vibrated from Anthony’s frame, and she imagined it traveling from his hand up her spine. He was on edge, and it made her restless.
“I do hope you find the time to see some of Bombay.” Sophia smiled. “Is this your first visit to India, my lord?”
Braxton’s eyes flickered from Anthony and back to her.
He smiled, and the nickname solidified in her head.
He was most assuredly a Don Juan. “I have been to Calcutta twice, but, as I mentioned to Lady Pilkington, I am here for diplomatic training with the Bombay Presidency. I am a guest of the Governor General and had business to conduct through the day.”
“When did you arrive in Bombay?” Sophia asked.
“Only this morning. When I received word of Lady Pilkington’s famed midnight picnic, I knew I couldn’t miss a moment of the fun.
Perhaps we shall commandeer a coach and ride together?
” He smiled at Sophia as if they were alone, and then made an examination of the room.
“Ah, I see Major Stuart is here as well.”
Braxton motioned to Major Stuart, who had been waylaid by Mr. Denney.
The Denney sisters had abandoned their parents in favor of Rachael Scarsdale’s company, who had again captured the notice of Professor Gerald.
Sophia wanted to ask Beatrice and Charity about any new developments concerning Prince Ekavir and Taj Darzi before they arrived at the picnic because Mr. Darzi and retinue were also supposed to be in attendance at the ruins.
It would have to wait, she supposed, as Anthony threaded her hand through his arm and the assembled guests funneled out the front doors.
As promised, Lord Braxton secured the largest vehicle available, a spacious coach, and he, Major Stuart, and Anthony sat facing Sophia and Rachael.
Sophia was directly across from Braxton, and Anthony’s face might have been hewn from granite for all the expression—or lack thereof—upon it.
She wondered what had made him so tense.
The footman closed the door and rapped on the side of the carriage.
The carriage lurched forward, and Sophia looked out the window at the darkness beyond.
The trees and vegetation were thick and rather frightening at night.
It was as though man had carved just enough space out of the jungle to nestle in his own habitat, yet the land constantly fought to regain control.
The land between the Residency and the ruins, and the ruins and the palace, was thick and tangled. Wildly beautiful, but threatening.
An animal howled, and the sound carried on the wind as if to punctuate her mood. The tension in the carriage was suffocating. Anthony was clearly uncomfortable with the man, and even Major Stuart, who was affable to everyone, seemed unusually guarded. She wished someone—anyone—would speak.
Anthony broke the silence. “Major Stuart, would you please inform Lord Braxton of what you have learned regarding young master Charles’s kidnapping?”
“Now see here,” Lord Braxton said with a note of warning in his voice. “Shouldn’t we avoid such an unpleasant topic in the presence of fine ladies? I’m sure the discussion could wait.”
Anthony clenched his jaw. “Major?” he prompted.
Stuart hesitated, then nodded and cleared his throat.
“I secured a translator and spent the bulk of the day questioning the young girl, Chakori. She was approached by an unfamiliar servant who paid her a healthy sum to lure Master Charles from his bed and lose him in the jungle no closer to the Residency than the ruins. The area from the ruins northward is expansive enough that a young child of his stature might have easily either fallen victim to an animal or lost his way in a swamp or river.”
Sophia shook her head. “It makes no sense to me, Major. Did she say how she was to accomplish this? Charlie doesn’t trust anyone other than Amala Ayah.
I would have wagered my brother’s title that he would never have willingly gone somewhere with anybody else.
I don’t know that he would come with me if I coaxed him, and I’ve spent considerable time with him in the nursery. ”
“Fortunately for your brother’s title, you were nowhere near a bookmaker.” Braxton smiled at Sophia, and she made an effort to keep from narrowing her eyes.
“You do understand what I mean, my lord. These days, the child is terrified of his own shadow.”
Stuart nodded. “He is, and Chakori knew what to say. She told Charlie that Amala Ayah was outside and needed him right away and that she had sent Chakori to fetch him.” He frowned.
“Chakori also had in her possession one of Amala Ayah’s bangles.
When she showed it to the child as proof of her good intentions, he went with her. ”
“Where was the ayah?” Braxton asked.
“In the servants’ sitting room.”
He frowned. “Might she have been complicit in the crime?”
Sophia shook her head. “Amala adores Charlie. As much as his mother does, I daresay.”
Stuart added, “Chakori did not implicate the ayah in any way. She maintained over the course of several hours that her only point of contact was with this stranger.”
Sophia took a deep breath and tried to make sense of the riddle. Why would someone pay to have Charlie go missing? Perhaps because it was cleaner and simpler than killing him outright in the house? Or perhaps the guilty party didn’t have the stomach for killing small children. She shuddered.
“And I am to understand that the boy’s nanny believes he was witness to Captain Miller’s murder?” Braxton asked.
“You know about that?” Sophia asked.
Braxton nodded. “Lady Pilkington mentioned it to me. And, if I may say, I am surprised that you know about it as well. I would have thought that Lord Wilshire would have spared you the details.” He gave Anthony a sharp look that seemed to carry more meaning than expected.
“You should know that there are no secrets here, Lord Braxton,” Anthony replied. “We are among friends.”
Sophia drew her brows together. She wondered again what the relationship was between Braxton and Anthony.
Lord Braxton frowned. “I see,” he said. After another moment of strained silence, he seemed to rouse himself and return to the conversation. He looked at Sophia with a smile. “So, the nanny believes the boy witnessed something, and you believe her. That is enough to convince me.”