“Phillip!” he cried. “Phillip!”

To his amazement, the boy backed warily away.

Did the boy not recognize him? He had, after all only met him once. “Phillip, it’s Everingham, your guardian.”

Phillip started to run. Hart followed him. The boy darted in and out of the bushes. Hart followed. It was uncomfortably like chasing a fox.

“Phillip, it’s all right,” Hart called. “You’re not in trouble, I promise.” But the boy took no notice. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!” Hart roared in his best scary-duke voice. The boy hesitated and glanced back, giving Hart just enough opportunity to bend from the saddle and scoop the child up.

He yelled and kicked and struggled—what the hell was the matter with him? “I’m your guardian, you little idiot. Stop fighting. I’m not going to hurt you.” But Phillip kept struggling.

Hart clamped the boy facedown across his saddle, like a hunting prize, and headed for Lakeside Cottage. All the way back he tried to get Phillip to talk to him, but all he got was stubborn resistance.

His relief at finding Phillip alive was tempered by frustration. The poor little chap was obviously badly traumatized. Lord knew what dreadful things his captors had put him through. Still, it was irritating to be welcomed like a kidnapper instead of a rescuer. But Hart had him safe now; he would be all right eventually. Children, they said, were resilient.

*   *   *

George’s bath had refreshed her. She had no interest in a nap, and since her husband had not come to bed with her, she was feeling restless. She watched him ride off, visibly despondent, to return the money. His failure to protect Phillip had shaken him to the core. She’d offered to go with him, but he’d scowled and ordered her again to take a nap, reminding her that she’d nearly drowned and needed to recover.

George wasn’t so feeble. And it seemed to her that he was more shaken by her near drowning than she was.

She decided to go for a ride, shake the misery out and take Finn for a run. And perhaps see if she could find any sign of the other missing boy, Danny. Phillip’s death was devastating, but Danny’s fate would have nothing to do with kidnappers. His appalling home situation had moved her deeply. If there were any chance he might be alive . . .

Children were so precious. They needed to be nurtured and protected and loved, and at the same time encouraged to explore and develop their confidence. She would make sure her own children were not left to servants to raise, and, for the convenience of those servants, turned into obedient, responsible little adults before their time.

She avoided the depressing sight of the lake. It would be dragged tomorrow—Hart had gathered some willing locals.