THE EARL'S PREGNANT BRIDE (18 page)

But she surprised him. There were no tears. She only pleaded softly, “Tell me that she’s all right.”

He sank back to the chair again. “I don’t know what will happen, Brooke. Go on now, go to bed. You’ll need your rest. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a hellish day.”

She nodded and turned for the door.

But she stopped when she got there and faced him once more. “I always... She’s so strong. She looks so sweet and delicate, but we all know she’s not. She’s as tough as they come. I can’t imagine her broken. Even beyond the fact that if something happened to her, it would be my fault, I don’t
want
anything to happen to her. I know you won’t believe this, but in my own sad, twisted way, I love her. She is a sister to me. Not all sisters get along, you know? Sisters have...rivalries. Jealousies. That’s me. The jealous sister. But if...
when
she comes home, I’m going to find a way to make it different between us, to make it what it should have been all along.” She opened the door.

And he relented, just a little. “Brooke?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not
all
your fault, you know. There’s plenty of blame to go around.”

* * *

By morning, the rain had stopped and the sky was clear. Gen had neither called nor come home.

No one—not anyone at Hartmore, not her parents or her siblings or her old school chums—had heard a word from her since she left the terrace the day before.

Rafe called Evan and Princess Adrienne and they told him they would be there by afternoon. Next, he called the police sergeant.

The sergeant said he would put the information Rafe had given him last night into the system. Then he came back out to Hartmore. He said he would need to interview everyone—family members and staff. He asked for the names of everyone who’d come to Geoffrey’s party. And he wanted to have a look around the East Bedroom.

He spoke of what would happen within the next twenty-four hours. Search teams with rescue dogs would be mobilized, a missing-persons flyer put into circulation.

Rafe thanked him, turned him over to Eloise and went out to the stables to saddle his horse. He got the black gelding ready and led him out of the stable.

Geoffrey and Brooke were waiting for him in the cobbled courtyard.

“We want to search with you, Uncle Rafe,” Geoffrey said. “Mum and me.”

Both had dressed for riding. Brooke carried a rucksack. They stood side by side and looked up at him so seriously, with such complete determination. He thought that they’d never looked more alike than they did at that moment.

He said, “The police sergeant will want to speak with both of you.”

Brooke shrugged. “Later. Geoffrey and I want to help. Now. Plus, we’re going mad with the waiting.”

What could it hurt? Brooke was an excellent horsewoman and Geoffrey was competent enough. He asked Brooke, “Do you have your phone?”

“I do.”

“Saddle up, then. I’m going to the castle first to have another look. Last night I didn’t get there until after dark. After the castle, I’ll ride over the north parkland and the chapel area. You two take the lake trail. I rode around it while it was still light out yesterday. Nothing. But today, pay attention to trails leading off the main one. She might have taken a detour at some point. We’ll need to try those. Call me every half hour to check in.”

“Will do,” said Brooke.

Geoffrey grabbed her hand. “Come on, Mum. Let’s hurry.”

* * *

A half hour later, Rafe was at Hartmore Castle, and finding no more sign of Gen than he had the evening before. Brooke called. She and Geoffrey were on the lake trail, almost to the jetty. They’d seen nothing worth reporting.

An hour after that, on their third check-in, Rafe was combing the north parkland. Brooke and Geoffrey had been around the lake once. They’d found no sign of Gen.

“We’re going to circle the lake again,” Brooke said. “We’ll take the branching trails as we come to them.”

Rafe thought they needed to put a limit on how far to wander along each trail.

Brooke agreed. “We’ll follow each trail for twenty minutes, looking for signs of something, anything, that would hint that Genevra might have been down it.” If there was nothing, they’d backtrack to the lake and try the next trail.

When Rafe put his phone away that time, he stopped in the shadow of an oak and considered the hopelessness of this entire exercise. They’d have the trained rescue people and the dogs out by tomorrow, people who knew the way to set up an effective search, who knew what signs to look for.

He and Brooke and Geoffrey were likely only to make the real search more difficult by mucking up the ground with their horses, destroying the scent trail and any possible footprints Gen might have left. They would make it all the tougher for dogs—or trained rescuers—to find where she’d been.

Rafe got out his phone again to tell Brooke to call it off.

But then he couldn’t do it, couldn’t go back to the house and sit around waiting for someone else to do something. He’d done that all night long. He couldn’t bear to give in and do it again.

And he knew that his sister and his nephew couldn’t, either.

They went on with it.

Two hours and fifteen minutes later, as he was about to call the whole thing off all over again, his phone rang. It wasn’t check-in time.

“Brooke?”

“We found a hair elastic,” she said. “Blue and orange, striped.”

“A what?”

“You know, a rubber band thing for a ponytail. Genevra uses them to keep her hair out of the way when she works up a sweat.”

“A hair elastic.” His hopes sank. “A lot of women use those, don’t they?”

“Well, yes...”

“Then what makes you think it might be hers?”

“Rafe.
Geoffrey
thinks it’s hers.”

“I do, Uncle Rafe!” Geoffrey’s excited voice came through the phone. “I just know it has to be!”

“Did you hear that?” Brooke asked.

He got the message. Geoffrey believed they were on to something. Brooke refused to dash his hopes. “Yes,” he said resignedly. “I heard.”

“We’re almost twenty minutes on this trail, but we’re going to continue.”

He asked which trail it was and she described it, the second path after the boat jetty, the one that crossed the road to the walled garden. “I know the one,” he said. “It continues on past a couple of abandoned farmers’ cottages, in and out of stands of elm and ash trees. Eventually, it curves back and comes out at the lake again.”

“Then we’ll just go on, follow it all the way around and back to the lake.”

“And we’ll call right away when we find her!” Geoffrey shouted.

Rafe smiled in spite of everything then, and felt the scar on his cheek pulling, reminding him again of all the things he hadn’t said, all the truths too dangerous to share. “All right, then. Keep me in the loop.”

Brooke made a low sound in her throat. “Geoffrey will make absolutely certain that I do.”

Again, Rafe put his phone away and rode on, moving back toward the house and circling around to the south front, heading for the lake. He was going to join forces with Brooke and Geoffrey. Why not? He’d been searching since half past nine and he’d gotten exactly nowhere. They might as well all be together and fail to find her as to wander around separately praying for a clue.

Plus, he had to admit that Geoffrey’s enthusiasm was inspiring. He decided not to think about what would happen when Geoffrey finally became discouraged, too.

Rafe’s phone rang as he reached the lake trail, at a point just beyond the old woodland garden, which Gen and Eloise were planning to start whipping into shape next year. His heart slamming into overdrive, he pulled the phone from his pocket.

But it was only Eloise. “The sergeant is asking for you. Princess Adrienne and Prince Evan have landed at East Midlands. They should arrive here within the hour. And I called Brooke. She told me to call you.”

“Put the sergeant off. I know you. You can handle him.”

“Do you really think you’re going to find her?”

“Geoffrey does. And we’re not giving up as long as he’s hard on the case.”

Eloise gave in. She promised she would take care of the sergeant for him.

Rafe shoved the phone in his back pocket and rode on toward the boat jetty. He was past it and almost to the trail Brooke and Geoffrey had taken when his phone rang again.

That time it was Brooke.

His hand was shaking as he put it to his ear.

“Rafe!” Brooke’s voice shook as hard as his hand. “Rafe, are you there?”

“Yes. What—?”

And then he heard Geoffrey shout, “Uncle Rafe, we found her! We found Aunt Genny and she’s stuck in the well!”

Chapter Thirteen

G
enny stared up through the darkness, toward the light beyond the broken boards, and at Geoffrey’s dear, perfect little face. “Is he coming? Tell me he’s coming.”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Genny. Mum told him to get a ladder first, but he said to call Great-Granny and tell her we found you and Great-Granny would get the ladder to us.”

Brooke’s face appeared opposite Geoffrey’s. “Rafe’s coming. Turns out he’d decided to join up with us, so he was already on his way.”

Genny’s heart filled with pure love for her—for Brooke, of all people. Tears of relief and happiness were rolling down her face. And then one of the boards up there creaked. “You two, be careful! Get away from the edge! You’ll end up down here with me.”

Both dear faces disappeared. Genny clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from calling them back. Just the sight of them meant so much. It made her injured ankle stop aching, made her forget the stinging scrapes on her hands, her arms and her knees.

It made the absolute loneliness of being down in the darkness for hour upon hour fade almost to nothing. It made the fear that had chewed on her soul, fraying it to a bloody scrap, vanish as if it had never been. She’d even forgotten for a moment how thirsty she was. Fear that it might somehow be contaminated had kept her from drinking the water she stood in. So far anyway...

And then both beloved faces appeared again.

Genny sniffed and swiped the tears away. “I said, get back!”

“It’s safe,” argued Brooke. “We’re on solid ground.”

“Are you sure?”

Brooke laughed. “I would tell you to trust me, but how likely is that?”

“If either of you falls in here, I will strangle you, Brooke.”

“Hah.” Brooke’s arm appeared. In her hand, she held a miracle: a bottle of water. “Are you thirsty?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Can you catch it?”

“Drop it straight down.”

“Count of three. One, two...”

Genny caught it. “Oh, thank you, God.” She screwed off the cap and took a slow, heavenly sip. “Wonderful.” She sipped again. “Oh, I cannot tell you...”

Brooke asked, “What happened to your phone?”

Genny indulged in another glorious sip. “I dropped it. It’s down here somewhere. There’s muddy water to just below my calves.” During the rain last night, it had risen to her knees. That hadn’t been fun. She’d been freezing and sure she was going to drown. “I felt around for it for hours, it seemed like. Haven’t found it yet.”

“Are you cold?” Brooke asked. “We have a blanket.”

“Mum thought of it as we were leaving the stables,” Geoffrey proudly announced.

Suddenly, she was shivering again. She capped the water and stuck it under her arm. “Pass it down here, please.”

Brooke got the blanket and carefully dropped it down. Genny caught it neatly and managed to wrap it around herself without letting any of the edges trail in the muck. It was heavy and scratchy, the most fabulous thing she’d ever felt in her life.

Well, next to Rafe’s kiss, his rough whisper in the middle of the night, the feel of his big, hot body curled around her as she slept. Next to the knowledge that she and their baby had somehow survived way too many hours alone in the dark wondering how anyone was ever going to find them....

Brooke asked, “Are you hungry? We have sandwiches and fruit and muesli bars.”

Genny’s stomach rumbled. She smiled through her tears. “I’ve got the blanket and the water.” She shifted, getting the water bottle out from under her arm, trying to hold the blanket and keep her weight off her bad ankle at the same time. “I’m bound to drop something if I have to catch anything else. I’ll be okay until you get me out of here.” She got the cap off the bottle and took a longer drink that time.

Brooke said, “Rafe should be here any minute...”

And he was. Not five minutes later, she heard the pounding of horse’s hooves echoing through the muddy walls that surrounded her.

“It’s Uncle Rafe!” Geoffrey shouted. “He’s here.”

She heard him pull the horse to a stop. And then he was there, much too far above her, his beloved face staring down at her, black eyes finding hers.

“Gen.”

Her heart felt too big for the cage of her chest. “I’m all right.
We’re
all right, me and the baby, too. I lost my phone. I...hurt my ankle and couldn’t see any way to get out of here. I didn’t know what to do....” Her voice caught on a sob.

“Just hold on, love. We’ll get you out.”

Brooke said, “I called Granny. They should be here with the ladder and ropes and...whatever else they need soon.”

Rafe broke eye contact with her to talk to his sister. “Soon isn’t good enough. I can barely see her face, but I can tell that she’s shivering. She’s freezing down there. It’s an old well, hand dug, not more than twenty feet deep, probably less. A ladder seven or eight feet would do it. She can climb to the top and I’ll reach down and pull her the rest of the way up. Even a sturdy rope might be workable. Let’s check in the cottage and around back. I think there’s a storage shed. We’ll see what we can find.”

Wait. He was leaving?
Genny cried out, “No! Just stay there. Just...I need to see you.”

“Gen.” He held her yearning gaze so steadily. She needed his arms around her. Needed them desperately. “I’m just going to have a look around the cottage. I won’t be long.”

And Geoffrey said, “I’ll stay here, Aunt Genny. You can look up and see me.”

Of course, she knew she was being ridiculous. But that didn’t make the terror of losing sight of Rafe now any less. All those endless hours and hours, where she hadn’t known if she would ever see his face again.

She swallowed her tears—and her fear. “Yes. That would be all right. Of course it would.”

“You’re sure?” Rafe asked gruffly.

And Geoffrey said, “She’s sure. See if there’s a ladder. Mum, you help him. I will stay here where Aunt Genny can look at me.”

So Rafe and Brooke disappeared from her sight. Genny stared hard up at Geoffrey and clutched the blanket tighter around her shaking shoulders.

They really didn’t take that long. It only seemed like half a lifetime.

And then Rafe was there again, looking down, finding her, giving her his crooked wreck of smile. “We found one.”

“A ladder?”

“Yes—you said something about your ankle?”

“I sprained it. It hurts, but I can get up a ladder.” By God, she would do it no matter the pain. Her ankle would hold her. She’d drag herself up by her arms alone if she had to.

“We could wait,” he suggested.

Brooke said, “I can call and find out how long they’re going to be.”

“No! Get me out of here, Rafe.”

Brooke caught Rafe’s eye again. “When she gets that tone, you should do what she wants.”

“Listen to your sister,” Genny warned. “She knows how I am. And I want out of here. Now,” she added, just to be perfectly clear on the issue.

“All right, love.” He disappeared from her view for an instant. And then he was hoisting the ladder into the well. It was of weathered wood, an old harvest ladder, wider at the base than at the top. “Get up against that side there, underneath where Brooke is. I’ll ease it down to you....”

“Wait.” She drank the rest of the water and let go of the bottle. Then she tied the corners of the blanket around her neck. “All right.” She limped back against the slimy wall. “I’m ready.”

He lowered the ladder into the well, dropping to his belly in order to ease it as far as he could with his long arms. “Can you reach it?”

She stepped forward to catch it—and let out a moan when she put too much weight on her bad ankle.

“Gen. If you can’t do it—”

“Do not tell me what I can’t do. I
will
do it.” She got under the ladder, keeping most of her weight on her good leg, and she reached up and wrapped her hands around the side rails, about a foot from the base. “It’s long enough. If I can get to the top, you can pull me the rest of the way.”

“All right.” He sounded doubtful—probably about her ability to climb with only one good leg—but he didn’t try to tell her again that they should wait. “Have you got it?”

She stepped back again, taking care not to let the groan of pain escape her lips. “You’re just going to have to let it go. I’ll try to guide it down.”

“Good, then.”

“Now,” she said.

He let go. She bent with it as it dropped. Slivers speared her already injured palms and pain sang up her leg. She gritted her teeth and did what she had to do, bending to follow the ladder down. Muddy water splashed up into her face.

“Are you all right?” Rafe called to her.

She armed the water out of her eyes. “Fine. Yes. I’ve got it.”

“Ease it up as close to the wall as you can. And then lift it, and drop it hard. You need to be sure it’s planted firmly at the base.”

Her ankle ached every time she moved it, but she managed to lift the ladder and shove it hard into the muck. Once that was done, she grabbed a rung and gave it a tug. It seemed stable. She looked up at Rafe’s face above her—and thought of that night at Villa Santorno, when she’d told him about the baby.

There had been a ladder involved then, too. As well as a twisted ankle.

He frowned down at her. “It’s all right to wait....”

Not a chance.
“I’m coming up. Ignore the groaning. I am not stopping. Are we clear?”

“Nine steps,” Brooke called down. “You can do it.”

“And I’m right here to pull you out.” Rafe held down his big hand.

Genny started climbing. Every other step was an agony. But it was funny about pain. The closer she got to Rafe’s reaching hand, the less the hurting mattered.

By the time she reached the top with her hands, she was putting her full weight on her bad foot. She kept going, stepping up one rung and then the next, until her upper body was beyond the ladder and she had to press her torso against the slimy wall of the well, trying to distribute her weight so that the ladder wouldn’t topple away beneath her.

And then there were no more steps. She eased her hand upward on the muddy wall, reaching for Rafe’s fingers.

“Careful, careful...” He whispered the words. She saw only his face, his reaching hand, heard only that “Careful,” so tenderly whispered as he lured her upward.

He reached. She reached. She had both legs on the top rung. Inches to go before he clasped her hand and brought her up out of there.

And then the ladder jolted, one of the legs giving way—or maybe sinking. She couldn’t tell.

Alarm rattled through her. Pain seared her hurt foot. She let out a shriek and knew she was lost as the ladder dipped to the side and she started to fall.

Except she didn’t fall.

Because Rafe somehow reached deeper. He reached and he caught her, his hand grasping her wrist at the last possible second. She grabbed on, too.

And then she was rising, moving up and up and into the light.

Geoffrey was shouting. “You got her, you caught her!”

And then she was blinking at the brightness of the afternoon sun. Tears streamed down her face as Rafe’s big, hard arms gathered her close.

* * *

Rafe carried her back on the front of his horse.

They met the others on the lake trail. Rafe gave orders that they should put warning signs around the well and secure the cottage gate. Then he took her the rest of the way home to Hartmore, with Brooke and Geoffrey following behind.

He carried her up to the East Bedroom in his arms, calling for Eloise to send Dr. Eldon.

When he closed the door to the hallway and they were alone, she told him, “I’m filthy.”

He carried her to the bathroom, drew her a bath and took off her torn, muddy clothes. The left shoe was the hardest. Her foot was swollen, her ankle black-and-blue. With such tender care, he lowered her into the warm, lovely water and he washed her, careful of her cuts and scrapes and bruises, so gentle with her swollen foot.

“You should stay off ladders, I think,” he teased as he used tweezers to get the slivers from her palms.

They shared a look. She said, “Are you remembering that night at the villa, too?”

“Yes, I am.”

She smiled at him. “I’m also going to try to avoid falling down wells.”

“A fine plan.”

He got her a soft, old nightgown from the dressing room and helped her put it on. Then he carried her back to the bedroom and tucked her into bed.

She was starving, so Frances brought up a tray of eggs, juice and toast.

Eloise came in a moment later and reported that her parents had arrived.

Rafe said, “Tell them she’s all right and so is the baby. Let her eat and see the doctor before they come in.”

“One thing more. The sergeant has returned to the village. He said he’ll want a concluding interview. It’s a formality. He asked if you would call him tomorrow.” She kissed Genny on the forehead. “I’m so glad you’re home, dearest girl.”

“Oh, Eloise. So am I.”

Eloise left them alone again. Genny filled her empty stomach, and then Dr. Eldon appeared. He examined her, declared her ankle badly sprained and started giving her instructions for its care.

By then, her eyes just wouldn’t stay open. “I can’t...stay awake....”

Dr. Eldon nodded. “Sleep, then. Rest is the best healer. I’ll tell His Lordship what to do for that ankle.”

With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes. Her ankle throbbed. But not enough to keep sleep from settling over her.

* * *

When she woke, it was ten in the evening. Her injured ankle was outside the covers, in a soft brace. It ached, but not as bad as it had before.

Her mother was there, at her bedside. Her father and Rory sat in the two slipper chairs near the dark window.

They told her they loved her, that they were so glad she and the baby were safe and well. She explained how Rafe and Brooke and Geoffrey had saved her.

Her father said, “So, then. You’re happy, here at Hartmore, with the DeValerys?”

She laughed. “I
am
a DeValery now, Papa. And there is no place I would rather be than here at Hartmore with them.”

“But are you happy?”

She answered, “Yes, I am,” without even having to stop and think about it. All right, there were...issues. Things she and Rafe did need to talk about. But being lost at the bottom of a well overnight had put it all in perspective for her somehow.