Page 52 of Dearest Beast
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
“Bed.” He turned back to her. “It’s late. I do need to pray at sunrise. Obligations and all. Good night, Miss Adler,” he finished, capturing the last word for himself.
However, Roger’s night was neither finished, nor was it “good,” in any sense of the word. Unable to shake his irritation, he turned toward the staircase to the main house. He should tend his roses. His flowers always assisted him in focusing on what was important: his future coronation once he married Miss Teres, not Miss Adler and whatever she was doing in his kitchens.
Which was none of his concern. Nothing she did mattered to him, other than confirming she was safe, fed, cared for, and not able to disparage him or his hospitality with any credibility.
No, he did not care about Miss Adler and certainly wasn’t going to stick around and watch her unpack the trunk, as he had no desire for her company in any way whatsoever. Certainly not when she might be contorting her body in suggestive positions.
He was above that. He was—
“Sir?” came Lopez’s voice from above, halting him and his inappropriate thoughts.
“What?” Roger practically snapped. He swallowed, refusing to let his temper get the best of him. He didn’t have a temper. He was not Louis. He was too practiced, too well trained, too clever to be, whether anyone noticed or not.
The man cleared his throat as he stepped farther into the kitchen, Marguarite at his heels. “We have a touch of a situation,” he told them, his tone grim.
“What has happened?” Roger asked, dread already welling in his gut.
“It seems that well—” Marguarite bit her lip. “Miss Fannie is gone,” she whispered.
Roger stared at them, panic spreading over his senses.
It’s Mrs. Lucy, she’s gone.
The woman’s words from that terrible day nearly a year ago rang in his ears.
Fear flooded through him as he took a step toward the housekeeper. “Gone?” he repeated. “What do you mean ‘gone’?” His voice was unrecognizable. Fannie was his baby. His beautiful, perfect baby. His—
“She’s missing,” Lopez cut in, pressing a hand onto his shoulder and pulling him backward, despite the fact that he was a head shorter and ten years older. “Your daughter is not in her bed and not in the nursery and cannot be found.”
Roger nearly sank to his knees with relief as his mind parsed the words. Fannie was not—he swallowed—like Lucy. She was… missing.
Missing?
“How?” Roger glanced around at the assembled group, forcing himself into the present. He narrowed his eyes. “Where’s Miss—miss—the governess?” he asked, frowning. The woman’s name escaped his mind. Why could he not seem to think straight as of late?
“Miss Pardo was, um, not in her room when Miss Fannie slipped out,” Marguarite explained, no longer meeting his gaze.
“But she’s preparing herself to come assist,” Lopez added, exchanging an odd glance with the housekeeper. That normally would’ve made Roger suspicious, but now—where was his daughter?
“Have you… ?” He was already halfway up the staircase.
“We’ve already done a search of the house,” Marguarite assured him. “However, Miss Fannie is quite skilled at hiding.”
“Beg pardon?” Roger asked, an odd note in the woman’s tone giving him pause despite his panic.
“I assure you, sir, there’s no reason to believe she’s left the premises,” Lopez said quickly. “All the doors and windows are secure. We checked, twice. I also inspected the perimeter. No footprints.”
Roger stared at him, attempting to parse the man’s words through his panic. Because yes, the idea that she was somewhere in the house was good news, though that was not guaranteed, as snow could cover small footprints rather quickly, but the man’s tone suggested there was something more afoot, so to speak. Something else occurring regarding his daughter. It was almost as if—
“She’s done this before?” Miss Adler spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. She moved around her table and toward the group.
“Of course not,” Roger returned, pausing and gazing at his staff, who were conspicuously not meeting his eye. “Has she?”
There was a long silence.
Marguarite pressed her lips together. “Miss Pardo is usually able to find her without assistance.”
