Free Lord Iverbrook's Heir by Carola Dunn Page B

nothing. I have seen a thousand times its worth wagered in a single evening’s gambling. By heaven, I shall call the dog to account!”
    “Nonsense,” said Lady Whitton again.
    “He is quite determined to take Peter from us, Mama,” Selena repeated. “He has told me so in no uncertain terms.”
    “But you cannot suppose that he would act in such a surreptitious fashion. It is underhanded, and quite illegal I am sure.”
    “Possession is nine tenths of the law,” said Sir Aubrey with relish. He had no wish to have the child on his hands when he married Selena.
    “I expect he wandered off across the fields,” said Delia. “Mama, you remember how he said at breakfast that he likes the rain. We must organise a search.”
    Lady Whitton paled. “The river! Surely he would not go down to the river?”
    Her daughters joined in soothing her. Peter had been told time and time again that he must not go near the river on his own. He was a sensible, obedient little boy and understood the dangers. His grandmother herself had forbidden it, and though he might occasionally rebel against the dictates of his aunts, or of Nurse, he had never been known to disobey Grandmama.
    Bannister came back. “He’s not in the stables, my lady. Jem’s not seen him this morning.”
    “The gypsies!” Delia exclaimed. “Do they not steal children?”
    “They moved on, Miss Delia, two or three days past.”
    “Thank heaven!” said Lady Whitton.
    “We must organise a search,” insisted Delia. “Mama, you send out the house servants, and Selena must gather the farm workers.”
    Selena smiled at her hollowly. “How practical you are of a sudden,” she said. “We’ll do as you suggest, but I am afraid it is useless. They will be half way to Iver by now.”
    Delia, feeling unusually helpful and competent, donned pelisse, bonnet, and boots and slipped out of the house to join the search. She was determined to find her nephew and show Selena that she was not merely a pretty widgeon, as her sister had been known to describe her.
    Undeterred by the rain, now slackened to a damp, grey mizzle, she crossed the lane, climbed a stile, and took the footpath across the meadow. The long grass soon soaked her skirts but she pressed on eagerly, now and then calling, “Peter!”
    By the time she had crossed several fields of grass and skirted one of ripe wheat, Delia realised that she had unthinkingly taken the way to Bracketts, her favourite walk. Peter had come this way with her just a few days ago, to play with Jane’s little brothers. She decided to go on and see if Jane and Clive would join the search.
    A copse straddled the boundary between the Russells’ land and the Manor’s. As Delia entered the shelter of the trees, she remembered that Peter had wanted to climb one of them. A tall larch, she thought, that seemed easy for a small boy. She had hurried him past, and he had been in the mopes about it for quite five minutes. She looked about: there it was. Pushing through clutching brambles she made her way to it and peered up through the dripping green needles.
    Half way up, a good twenty feet over her head, hung a damp blue bundle. Peter had hooked his arms and legs over the branches. His eyes were shut, and since she could see no way for him to have hurt himself, she assumed that, unable to climb down, he had fallen asleep.
    She was about to shout his name, but a horrid thought came to her. Startled, sleepy, he might relax his grip and fall. If she went for help he might fall before she returned. The only thing to do was to climb up and help him down.
    Selena would have done it without a second thought. Mama said Selena had been a real tomboy, and even Phoebe had liked climbing trees.
    Delia had been a delicate child, often ill, and by the time she grew stronger she was a young lady, too old for such tricks. Besides, Jane Russell would have stared to see such hoydenish conduct.
    But Jane was not here. Peter was in danger. Taking off bonnet