Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) by Jo Ann Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

kennel.
    She stepped into the room, holding her bonnet in front of her. “Yes, sir, I was with him.”
    “What happened?”
    With quiet dignity, she explained what had taken place in the cove. He appreciated that she did not embellish the tale in any way. Yes, he had saved the little boy, but he felt more like a clumsy oaf than a hero.
    “Thank you, Miss Oliver,” the doctor said when she finished.
    She curtsied gracefully and took her leave.
    Arthur almost told his sister to call Miss Oliver back, but how could he explain such a request? He did not understand himself why having Miss Oliver near helped. Something about her kind smile offered him comfort, but he could not say how or why. Perhaps it was as simple a thing as when he thought about her, he was not worrying about how an injury would complicate his work as a courier.
    Thoughts of the nurse vanished when the doctor ran his hands along Arthur’s right leg. The pain was excruciating by his knee, and he could not silence his yelp when the doctor’s fingers touched his ankle.
    With a sigh, Hockbridge straightened. “There is no choice but to cut away the boot, my lord.”
    “Do what you must.” His jaw worked as he surrendered himself to the doctor’s ministrations, determined he would not allow pain to halt him from his duties. Too many depended on him, and he refused to let them down.
    * * *
    Maris opened a cupboard door and peered inside. It was empty. Where was Bertie? It was not like him to sneak away. When the children first arrived, they often had slipped out of the nursery to sleep in Lady Susanna’s room. But it was not the middle of the night.
    So where was the little boy?
    She glanced at the other children, glad the baby was with Lady Caroline. If Maris asked Lulu and Molly and Gil, she might upset them further. They were on edge after what they had witnessed on the shore. Even Lulu, who usually was the leader in any mischief, was clingy and too quiet.
    Bertie had been crying earlier about the loss of his little ship and the scratch he had on his left hand, his sole injury from when Lord Trelawney saved him. He had fallen asleep in a corner about a half hour ago.
    Where was the little boy now?
    While she searched the day nursery, Maris had sent a maid to do the same upstairs in the night nursery where the children slept. The maid had returned minutes ago without finding the missing child.
    “Rachel,” she said to the maid, who usually worked in the kitchen, “I need you to stay here with the children.”
    “Yes, Miss Oliver.”
    “Do not let them out of your sight.”
    “Yes, Miss Oliver.”
    “If I am not back before their tea arrives, pour their milk and make sure they eat their meat and cheese before any cakes.”
    “Yes, Miss Oliver.” Rachel waved her hands toward the door. “Go. I raised five younger sisters and brothers. I can take care of these three.”
    Maris ran out of the nursery. She glanced in both directions along the upper hallway. The day’s last sunshine poured along it, highlighting everything. Even a little boy could not hide there.
    She recruited each servant she passed to help in her search. If the Trelawneys learned that Bertie was missing, she might be dismissed, but she could not worry about that. Not when Bertie had vanished.
    Horrible thoughts filled her mind. What if the person who had set the children adrift had come to Cothaire and snatched Bertie? She could not imagine a reason why someone would do that, but she also could not guess why anyone had abandoned them in an unstable boat.
    She faltered when she reached the wing where the family’s private rooms were. She hesitated, not sure she should venture in that direction. But Bertie could be anywhere. If the family saw her, she would be honest about what she was doing there. However, she would rather not have them learn about Bertie’s disappearance until he was safely in the nursery.
    Even so, Maris tiptoed along the corridor, barely noticing the plaster