Free Mistress of Merrivale by Shelley Munro Page B

phantoms.
    “Is there something wrong, Mrs. Sherbourne?” Woodley burst into the parlor, his calm demeanor taking in everything at a glance.
    “Elizabeth is upset,” Tilly said. “I think it’s best if we take her to her room.”
    “I saw someone outside,” her mother insisted.
    “I’ll send someone to scare them off,” Woodley said, his voice pitched to soothe.
    “They won’t search properly,” Elizabeth said. “You go, Woodley.”
    Woodley inclined his head. “Very well, Mrs. Townsend. I’ll do a search the minute we’ve escorted you safely to your chamber.”
    Tilly took Elizabeth’s arm and Woodley the other. Together, they directed her mother toward her quarters and peace settled in the parlor. Jocelyn relaxed and smoothed her skirts. With relief beating a tattoo through her veins, she pinned a reassuring smile to her lips, ready to settle Cassie. “Cassie, we’ll—Cassie?” A shocked gasp escaped.
    The child had vanished.

Chapter Four
    “Cassie?” Jocelyn rapidly searched behind the chairs and the larger pieces of furniture, alarm tightening her throat. She peered under a sturdy table but didn’t see her stepdaughter.
    “Good morning.” Amusement colored the voice of the feminine speaker.
    Jocelyn’s head jerked upward, colliding with the edge of the table. “Ow!” She backed out from underneath the desk, rubbing her temple. Face flushed with heat, she climbed to her feet and turned to face the mystery woman.
    Oh, the neighbors—Hannah and Peregrine. Just perfect . Jocelyn pasted on a smile and pretended her new neighbors hadn’t seen her on the floor with her backside poking from beneath a table. She brushed her face with the corner of her apron, aware of her messy appearance. No doubt, her cherry-red cheeks clashed with her hair and freckles. Her callers, of course, wore smart clothes suitable for visiting.
    “Good day to you. I didn’t see you there. I was looking for Cassie.” She restrained herself when instinct told her to fuss with her hair. She couldn’t begin to compete with Hannah’s beautiful cream riding habit and pale golden perfection. There was no black garb in evidence today.
    “We heard screaming. Is something wrong?” Masculine approval glinted in Peregrine’s eyes as he focused on the upper curves of Jocelyn’s breasts.
    “My mother received a fright.” Jocelyn ignored Peregrine’s rude ogling to visually search the parlor for a glimpse of her stepdaughter.
    “Aunt Hannah!” Cassie appeared from the far corner of the room and threw herself at the woman, burying her face in the skirts of her aunt’s riding habit.
    Jocelyn wanted to sag onto the nearest chair. Thank goodness! The last thing she wanted was to explain to Leo how she’d lost his daughter.
    “Poppet, what’s wrong? You’re not usually shy.” Hannah took a step back and stooped to kiss her niece’s face. “Why have you been crying?” She shot a reproving look at Jocelyn, and Jocelyn felt the full weight of the woman’s censure. “Where is your nurse?”
    To Jocelyn’s relief, a maid arrived with refreshments, the rattle of the tray providing a welcome interruption. Providing explanations of the last hour to her new neighbors, even if they bore close ties to Cassie, wasn’t something she wanted to do either.
    “Please take a seat,” Jocelyn said, gesturing at the Egyptian-style settee and the ornate matching chairs. She accepted Peregrine’s escort to a spot near the tea tray and immediately wished she hadn’t when his touch lingered overlong. Experience had taught her how to deal with unwelcome advances, but she held herself in check, reminding herself these were her neighbors. She arranged her skirts and waited expectantly for Hannah to follow suit.
    “Where is the fair Arabella?” Peregrine asked in a lazy drawl.
    “I volunteered to look after Cassie for a few hours,” Jocelyn said in a tight voice.
    Hannah led Cassie over to a chair—one with elaborately carved