Page 74 of Dangerous Exile
Walking into the lower drawing room, he was surprised to find the dowager sitting by the east window, her stare on a diamond-shape pattern of embroidery in her hands. He hadn’t seen her all morning, nor when he’d checked in here a half hour prior.
“Lady Washburn, pardon my interruption, but do you know Ness’s whereabouts?”
Her forefinger pushing needle through cloth, the dowager glanced up from her embroidery. “Good morning, sweet lad. She is not in her room?”
“No.”
Her look went back down to her needle. “The solarium?”
“No.”
“The portrait gallery?”
“No.”
“The breakfast room or the library?”
“No and no.” Was she going to name every blasted room in the place? He stifled a sigh. “She’s not in the house.”
“I see. Then she must not yet be back from the coaching inn.”
Why in the hell hadn’t the dowager started there?
He took a step toward the dowager, his voice incredulous. “The coaching inn?”
Ness wouldn’t. Not without telling him. She wouldn’t dare go alone to the coaching inn.
Would she?
“Yes.” The dowager pulled free a long stretch of pink thread, her right hand going high into the air as she looked up at him. “She said she needed to go there early this morning, though she didn’t say why. I thought she just forgot something she needed there that was with your coach. I thought she would be back by now.” Her head angled toward the window. “You can check with the stable hand to see which horse she took.”
“No. She wouldn’t have.”
The dowager smiled. “Wouldn’t have what, sweet lad?”
“She wouldn’t have gone there without telling me.”
The dowager shrugged and looked back to her embroidery. “I can only report to you what she said when we crossed paths in the breakfast room.”
“How long ago?”
“Two hours, maybe three. Possibly more. I did not note the time. What time did the sun arise this morning? It was soon after.” Her gaze lifted to Talen, her grey eyebrows scrunching inward. “You seem worried, Conner.”
“Talen.”
“Talen. My apologies. But you seem worried.” She set her embroidery on her lap. “Should I help you look for her?”
For a moment he thought to say yes, but then he shook his head, his foot lifting to leave. “No. No, I will find her.”
“Forgive a prying question, but is something amiss between the two of you?”
His feet stopped and he looked to her. “We fought last night about me denying the title.”
“You fought?” Her forehead wrinkled, the thought ruffling her sensibilities. “On that? Whatever for?”
“Ness thinks the title is my birthright.”
“She is right, of course, it is your birthright.” She leaned toward him, her voice dropping a notch. “But if I may ask, would she truly leave over something like that?”