Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Caspian was in high spirits when he returned home from a day of riding with Timothy. It was only supposed to take up the morning, but plans often change, and this time it was for a good reason.
He had worried about how he and Timothy might get along should they be forced to spend too much time together.
Although Timothy had lived with Caspian for over a year, they had rarely spent any time together beyond meals and short conversations.
That was Caspian’s fault, the deep-seated worry that he would turn out like his father and thus ruin Timothy’s life if he tried to grow close to the boy.
Today had proven that Caspian had nothing to worry about.
They rode together from the estate, crossing empty fields and passing open farmlands. The journey started slowly, and Timothy got used to riding his horse, but he soon grew into it, and before long, he was moving at a pace that surprised Caspian.
“You are a natural,” he had told Timothy as he rode beside him. “Are you certain you have not done this before?”
“I have not!” Timothy had cried. “Honest!”
Caspian had narrowed his eyes as if suspicious. “I will believe you, for now. But if I were to find out that you had been sneaking out at night and stealing horses, I would not be surprised either.”
Timothy’s grin was as mischievous as ever. “Well… Not yet, I have not.”
It was easier than Caspian thought possible.
For so long, he believed he was doing the boy a favor by avoiding him, only to learn that Timothy wanted to spend more time with him.
He yearned for that companionship that only a father could provide, a gentle hand that was also firm, but non-threatening.
As they rode, as they enjoyed the day, Caspian marveled at how far he had come in such a short time. Just as he was sure to thank Arabella, because none of this would have been possible without her.
It was late in the afternoon when they stabled their horses. Timothy bounced up and down on the edge of his feet, watching Caspian hand the reins to the stable hand while instructing him on what to do.
“We rode them hard today, Timothy,” he explained to the boy. “Meaning that they need rest and recovery, to be treated well. The better you treat your horse, the better they will serve you. This is not to be neglected. Understand?”
“I do.” Timothy nodded, his serious expression telling Caspian he was committing it to memory.
“Good boy,” Caspian said. “Now, head inside and let Arabella know we are back. Then you need to get ready for supper. Go on,” he waved Timothy away. “I am sure she misses you.”
Timothy hesitated for just a moment. His brow furrowed as if in deep thought. And then, without saying anything, he stepped into Caspian and wrapped his little arms around Caspian’s waist.
Caspian started at the gesture. He stood frozen, completely baffled as to what was going on and what he should do about it. Try as he might, he could not recall a single time that he had hugged his own father, so that Timothy was doing this now… What on earth do I do in response?
In the end, he stroked the boy’s head, which seemed to be the right answer. Timothy stepped back, looked away shyly, even as he smiled, then hurried from the stables.
And there Caspian stood, staring after Timothy, still struggling to grasp what had just happened, while knowing of its significance. How had he been made to believe for so long that such companionship was a bad thing? How could he have been so wrong?
Needless to say, Caspian strolled into the manor a few minutes later with a smile on his face that was uncommon, but that he hoped would become a regular thing. Such was how things had changed.
Timothy stood in the foyer when he arrived, looking confused.
“Timothy, what are you doing? Where is Arabella?”
The boy shrugged. “She is not here. I looked for her, but they said she has not returned.”
“She has not…” Caspian blinked. “Are you certain?”
“Mrs. Roberston says so,” Timothy said. “Nor has she heard from her.”
That was strange, but not unheard of. A flare of panic roared to life inside of Caspian, but he forced it down as he reminded himself of who it was that he was dealing with.
Arabella was not the helpless young lady she had once been.
She was now a duchess, and few were more capable than she. At least he liked to believe so.
“She has likely lost track of the time,” he told Timothy. “Go and find Mrs. Robertson and have her assist you in cleaning up for supper.”
Once, Timothy might have argued. At the very least, he would have said that he was doing a thing and then done the opposite. But Caspian could tell this would not be the case this time. It was as if Timothy wanted to do as he was told; he wanted to prove to Caspian that he could.
So, the boy hurried up the stairs, and Caspian decided to get a little work done before he, too, would ready himself for supper.
He spent the next thirty minutes working. As he did, he listened for the arrival of Arabella, certain that she would be home at any moment. Penelope knew better than to keep her so that she would miss supper, and he had no doubt he would hear her entering the manor soon, and that would be that.
After thirty minutes of waiting, Arabella still had not arrived.
Again, Caspian tried not to panic, but it was becoming harder to do so.
Despite his best efforts, images of Arabella in trouble intruded on his subconscious.
What if her carriage were broken down? What if bandits had robbed her?
What if… What if… What if she is in terrible danger while I sit here and do nothing?
He knew how determined Arabella was to prove her independence, and he wanted to give her that. But Caspian had also stopped pretending that he felt little for his wife, and while she wanted that independence, he wanted just as much to protect her.
That was, after all, the opposite of what his father would have done.
With that final thought, Caspian came to a decision. He would not go to Arabella’s rescue, as she did not need it. Rather, he would check on her. Somehow, that made it better.
“Mrs. Robertson!” Caspian called as he strode through the manor. “Mrs. Robertson!”
She appeared as if from nowhere. “Your Grace! Is there something you need?”
“I am taking a short trip to my cousin’s estate,” he explained without slowing down. “I ought to be gone for thirty minutes or so. Keep an eye on Timothy, please.”
“The Dowager?” Mrs. Roberston said. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” he was sure to say. “Just being cautious.”
He rode a single horse through the dim light of dusk at a pace that was not exactly safe, but he felt it was warranted.
And as he rode, he tried his best to ignore that sense of dread that steadily built inside of him.
He would arrive at his cousin’s, find Arabella there, and laugh at this little moment as overly cautious.
Also, he hoped that Arabella might find it sweet that he worried.
It was when Caspian arrived at his cousin’s home that he realized how wrong he had been, as he realized that worrying was exactly what he should have been doing from the beginning.
He found his cousin just sitting down for supper, alone, surprised to see him striding into her dining room.
“Caspian?” his cousin said, obviously confused. “What on earth are you doing here? If I had known you were coming, I might have had the table set for you. Or I would have told you I was busy, depending on my mood.”
“Arabella,” Caspian started as he strode down the table. “She is not here?”
“Arabella? No, of course not. Why would you say that?”
A pit opened wide in his stomach. “How long ago did she leave?”
The confused expression on his cousin’s face made that pit in Caspian’s stomach stretch so wide he thought it might swallow him whole. “Leave from where?”
“Fr—from here,” he stammered. “She has been here all day…” His cousin continued to look blankly at him. “You sent a carriage for her this morning and…” He trailed off as the obvious answer battered him across the head. “Oh no.”
“What? What happened?”
Suddenly, Caspian’s forced resolve to not worry, to not want to be overly controlling and protective, left him completely, swallowed by that gaping pit in his stomach. How could he have been so foolish? So blind?
What sort of husband am I that I might pretend everything is fine while my wife… He swallowed back that thought, unable to finish it for fear of what might have happened.
“Something has happened to Arabella,” he said to his cousin, his voice cracking with each word spoken. “Someone has…” He could not finish, but there was no need. Penelope saw the answer in his eyes, and she acted immediately.
“We cannot waste time!” She swept past him. “I will have every available member of staff searching for her. Do you have any notion of where to start?”
“No,” he said desperately. “I thought that she was here!”
“We will spread out, search the roads, and perhaps we will get lucky.”
It was a long shot, with little chance of working. Arabella had not gotten lost or become waylaid. She was lured somewhere, taken, and now trapped.
Caspian forced himself to focus, to think logically!
If his wife was taken, there was a reason, which meant whoever did so wanted something. And if they did, there was only one person whom they might ask.
“Send for George,” he told her. “Have him meet me at my home with as many men as he can gather.”
Penelope’s face whitened. “Are you sure that is necessary? What will you do?”
“I need to return home,” he said as he hurried across the room. “I have a feeling that whatever has happened, I need to be there.”
“Someone took her,” she said in understanding. “But why?”
“I do not know,” he said. “But I intend to find out.”
With that said, Caspian left his cousin’s home, climbed atop his horse, and rode it home as fast as it could travel. As he did, he allowed the images that he had previously denied himself to flood his mind. His wife in danger, scared, needing him like she never had before.
He pictured these things, let them fuel him, and promised himself that he would not rest until she was safe.