Chapter 78

She never told me what had frightened her—to my knowledge she spoke of it to no one—but she never went down into the cellar again

I shook myself out of my reverie. “Carry on, Remy.”

“I think our best bet would be to start our search with the wine cellar, sir.”

“Sir?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, but you can hardly expect me to call you by your first name after referring to you as ‘sir’ for so many years.” His eyes sparkled with merriment, and I was startled by the emerald-green of his gaze.

You really can’t be satisfied, can you? You’re unhappy if his eyes are like Jeremy’s; you’re unhappy if they aren’t

“Bollocks,” I growled, more to my internal monologue than to Tanner’s observation.

“Good lord, Singe, your uncle swears!”

I turned to frown at Dorincourt, but he was running his thumb under my nephew’s chin.

“I’m here,” Dorincourt whispered. “I’ll stand by you.”

St John leaned into him. “I was so scared.” His resemblance to Pamela just then made my heart ache.