George patted her hand, his voice laced with pain as he said, “Your parents will have to be told about what’s happened.”
Dillie’s eyes rounded in alarm the moment the import of his words struck her. “And you want me to do it? I can’t! I don’t know how. The news will destroy them.”
Ewan wished he could be more encouraging, but he was in quiet agony as well. “Do your best, Dillie. Be strong for your sister. For your parents. Don’t let them give up hope. Whoever did this can’t have more than a fifteen-minute head start on us. If he meant to harm Lily, he would have simply done it in the garden. She was drugged and carried off. This was planned. He wanted her alive.” The fear in her eyes mirrored his own, though he hoped he hid his better. “Tell Mr. Barrow where we’ve gone. Have him catch up to us at Ashton’s residence.”
In truth, he was relieved George had agreed to join him. Besides being a cool and steady hand, he was a capable doctor. Though Ewan didn’t want to think of the ominous possibilities, he knew George would be needed if Lily was hurt.
No. Lily was strong. Smart. She was damned perfect.
He’d get her back safely.
He issued final instructions to Dillie though she didn’t really need them. George hugged his niece. “Do your best to keep the Farthingale clan under control. If Ashton is behind Lily’s disappearance, I’d rather he isn’t alerted. For that matter, I’d rather no one but the immediate family be alerted right now. Your sisters and their husbands will want to help. Ask them to stay close. We may need their muscle or their useful contacts if the search leads us out of London.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” Dillie assured, even as more tears welled in her eyes. “Please find her.”
The Mortimer townhouse was directly across the park, so cutting through it on foot was faster than taking a carriage. The night was dark despite the full moon, but gathering storm clouds partially hid its silvery glow. If not for the occasional lit torch, the park would have been plunged in darkness. A swift, damp wind was at their backs and Ewan noticed a sudden wintery crispness to the air. Damn. Lily’s thin silk gown wouldn’t keep her halfway warm.
“What if Ashton isn’t there?” George asked. They’d cleared the park and were turning onto the fashionable Belgrave Square where he resided.
“I don’t expect him to be. If he’s involved in Lily’s abduction, then he’s likely with her. I’m more interested in talking to his father, hoping he’ll point us in the right direction. I’m no expert in matters of abduction, but Lily wasn’t taken on a mere lark. Ashton, if he’s our villain, planned it over the course of several weeks. Perhaps months. I’m starting to think the attack on Lily at Tattersalls was a kidnap attempt that failed. That planning must have included a suitable place to hide her. We needn’t reveal our true purpose. A few, well-phrased questions should get him to tell us where his son has been spending his time lately.”
George let out a shaky breath. “I hope you’re right.”
“If he won’t talk, we’ll try his servants.” Though he doubted they’d get much information out of them. Servants were often wary of those whom they believed were above their station.
Homer Barrow caught up to Ewan as he was about to knock on the door of the Mortimer residence. “M’lord,” he said breathlessly, the jowls on his face wobbling as he shook his head. “Good thing I happened to be checking on my man tonight.”
“Indeed, we sent a footman off to fetch you, but I feared he’d never find you in time.” He gave silent thanks for this small stroke of good fortune.
“So I gathered. I came upon His Grace, the Duke of Edgeware, who was helping my injured man. He sent me over to the Farthingale home and Miss Dillie told me what’s happened. ’Tis a nasty business, but I’ll put my best runners on it. No charge, sir. Though I’m sure that’s the least of your concerns. I feel responsible. Ye trusted me and my men to protect the lass and we failed.”
“As did I, Mr. Barrow. I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I, m’lord. I’ll talk to the servants while ye’re talkin’ to the father. Don’t think he’ll be of much help. But them servants notice everything. They’ll open up to the likes of me.”
He watched Homer scurry to the servant’s entrance with surprising speed for a portly man. He was pleased to know his Bow Street runners would be doggedly on the case. These were skilled, determined men and he needed their assistance.