Free The Duchess Hunt by Jennifer Haymore

tried to
hide her fretting as they ate a sumptuous dinner that had been prepared
especially for them and served in a private room. She pushed around the mashed
turnips and pork roast on her plate until Esme eyed her suspiciously, and Simon
asked in a low voice, “Is the food not to your liking, Miss Osborne?”
    Sarah’s head jerked up, and she glanced at
the cook and Mrs. Stewan, the mistress of the inn, both of whom had been
hovering since the Duke of Trent and his companions had sat down to eat. Both
of them blanched in horror at the duke’s question and stared at her fearfully
in anticipation of her response.
    “Oh, no. It is delicious!” To illustrate,
she took a big bite of the pork, which was cold, its sauce rather congealed,
and tried not to choke on it. After she managed to chew and swallow without
even a hint of a grimace, she spoke in a low voice. “There are just so many
worries.”
    “Ah. I see,” Simon said shortly. He’d
explained to them that he wanted to keep the duchess’s disappearance quiet for
as long as possible, so Sarah knew better than to mention it out loud.
    Simon didn’t believe they could keep such
a secret for very long, as not only would he be hunting in London but his
brothers would be hunting all over England. Soon enough, the rumors would
begin. But Simon thought that whatever information they could glean before the
gossip spread might be more valuable.
    She looked him square in the eye. “I want
to help.”
    The corners of his lips quirked up. He
glanced to Esme and then back to Sarah. “You already are.”
    “Yes, but…” She sighed. “I believe you do
know what I mean, Your Grace.”
    “I believe I do.”
    She glanced at Esme. The poor girl had
hardly spoken all day, and despite having taken several naps in the carriage,
she looked simply exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. Alarm stirred in
Sarah’s belly. “Are you well, my lady?”
    Esme gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, yes.
Just a bit tired.”
    Sarah glanced at her plate. The food was
cold, and she had no intention of eating any more. But then she glanced at the
cook and Mrs. Stewan and chewed on her lip, not wanting to offend them by not
partaking of the next course.
    But Esme covered her mouth with a yawn,
and when Sarah looked at Simon, he gave her a nod as if to say, “Go. I will
placate them.”
    So Sarah rose. As soon as she did so,
Simon rose, too. She stared at him across the table in shock for a second
before she came to her senses.
    Dukes didn’t rise for servants.
    She blinked, shaking it off, wondering if
she’d ever grow accustomed to her new status.
    She held out her hand to Esme. “Let’s go
upstairs, my lady. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
    Esme took her hand gratefully and let
Sarah help her up. Upstairs, Sarah and Amy assisted her to undress and wash.
When the younger woman was comfortable, yawning in her nightgown, Sarah
dismissed Amy then led Esme to the bed and tucked the blankets around her.
    “Thank you, Sarah. I’m sorry I am so…”
Esme’s voice trailed off.
    Sarah trailed a hand over Esme’s forehead.
No fever. “Are you certain you’re not feeling ill?”
    Esme sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just…
Mama. Trent. London. It’s almost too much to take at once. Es-especially Mama.”
    “I understand,” Sarah soothed. “But I know
your brother will find her.”
    Esme’s hazel eyes filled with tears. “Yes,
you’re right, but what good will that do if she’s d-d —”
    “Hush,” Sarah admonished gently. “You
cannot think that way. We must continue to trust that your mother is alive and
well unless someone proves it otherwise.”
    “But do you really believe that?”
    “I do,” she said firmly. “Now go to sleep,
my lady. And I believe this will be good for you.”
    “Losing Mama?”
    “No, spending some time with your brother.
Maybe now you will finally learn to be more comfortable in his presence.”
    Sarah had always been