Dinner was served then, and a very quiet meal it was too. They went up to bed. George wore one of the lovely nightdresses from Miss Chance, but to her surprise, Hart barely seemed to notice. He pulled on a nightshirt and climbed into bed without a word.

She slipped in beside him. “We have to think positively,” she said softly.

He grunted and rolled over, his back to her. Obviously there was to be no lovemaking tonight. He was too worried about Phillip.

“Good night, Hart.” She lay down and closed her eyes, then turned and slipped her arms around him.

He rolled over to face her, his eyes somber in the shadows. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help thinking about that little boy.”

“I know. Me too.” She smoothed his forehead. “Just get some sleep and let us hope that things look better in the morning.”

He kissed her, and curved himself around her, holding her in his arms until at long last they both fell asleep.

*   *   *

The next morning the news was even worse. Mrs. Harris brought it in with the breakfast. She stood there, waiting in the doorway, looking worried until Hart beckoned her in. “What is it, Mrs. Harris?”

She bobbed an anxious curtsey. “Begging your pardon, your graces, but one of the daily girls says she heard that another little boy has gone missing, a local lad, Danny Glover.”

“What? Two small boys missing?”

Mrs. Harris grimaced. “It’s just gossip at this stage, your grace, but I thought you’d want to know.”

Hart nodded. He surely did.

Jephcott followed her into the breakfast room. “But it’s not the same thing, your grace, it can’t be. This Danny Glover is just a poor boy, rough and ignorant—there’s no question of a ransom for such as he.” He shook his head, perplexed. “Not that a ransom note has come for Phillip yet, but I’m sure it will. It must.”

Hart pushed his breakfast aside. “How long has that boy been missing?”

Mrs. Harris twisted her apron in fretful hands. “Nobody’s sure—he’s the kind of lad that runs wild. His parents don’t show much interest in him. Possibly two or three days.”

Jephcott said soothingly, “This cannot be anything to do with Phillip, your grace. Count on it, that other boy will have just run off somewhere, as such boys are wont to do.” But not, according to him, a boy like Phillip.

One boy from a wealthy family might be taken for ransom, but a second boy of the same age, and from a poor family? That could not be coincidence.

Hart rose from the table. He wasn’t going to say anything at this stage—they were all worried enough. “I’ll check the lake first, then I’ll speak to the parents of this Danny Glover.”

“I’ll come with you,” George said.