Confusion throbbed in Cameron's head, and he rubbed his skull. He'd think more about this tomorrow. But for now, he needed to have a talk with his sister and get her home. She'd be delighted when he told her that he was giving Miss Haywood a try.

He still didn't know if getting Miss Haywood involved was a good thing. He feared the worst from his wayward sister. Rosie had wanted her freedom for far too long, especially once she began noticing men—and since they began noticing her. If she had brought shame to the family, he needed to stop the rumors before they started.

Sighing, he exited the building and walked toward the buggy. There'd be no winning arguments with Alice, either. If she thought he'd succumbed to the very charming Miss Haywood, he had no choice but to let her believe it. He only hoped he'd be able to convince the woman that they didn't need her kind of help at all.

As he approached the vehicle, he noticed a man leaning his shoulder against the side, holding onto his hat as he conversed with Alice. Cameron fisted his hands. He prayed he didn't have to worry about his sister saying any more about their missing sister. But the closer Cameron came to the buggy, the man's appearance struck a familiar chord inside of him.

He hurried his step until he stood beside one of his favorite cousins. Cameron slapped his hand on Tristan Worthington's shoulder. "What in the devil are you doing here?"

The tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair swung his blue-eyed gaze at Cameron and displayed his white toothy grin. "Westland, old man. I am glad you decided to join us."

Cameron scrunched his forehead. "Join you? You make it sound as though I have been inside the station for a while. I assure you, I haven't."

"But cousin Alice told me you were talking with a lovely lady." Tristan wagged his eyebrows. "I thought you would have had the smarts to linger longer and get to know her better."

What exactly had his sister told Tristan? Cameron threw a quick scowl at his sister before returning his gaze to Tristan. "Believe me, dear cousin, it's not like that with this woman."

Tristan cocked his head. "And why not?"

Cameron flipped a dismissive wave. "That's not worth discussing." He took a deep breath and smiled at his cousin. "How long are you going to be in town? Would you like to drop by the house for dinner?"

"Absolutely." A twinkle lit Tristan's eyes. "My lovely wife is here visiting an old friend. Diana promised she would only be at her friends for a few hours. I left her there while I ran some errands myself."

Alice leaned forward and placed her hand on Tristan's arm. "Then you must come for dinner. We haven't yet met your wife."

"I would be very happy to introduce you." Tristan glanced around them before looking at Cameron. "Where is cousin Rosie?"

Alice sucked in a quick breath before covering her fingers over her mouth. Her wide eyes were laced with panic as she stared at Cameron. Inwardly, he groaned. Although he wanted Rosie's disappearance kept in the family, he didn't think he should tell Tristan what was going on. Knowing his cousin, he'd want to help. All the Worthington brothers were like that. In fact, sometimes, they helped too much.

Cameron cleared his throat. "Tristan, I'll let you finish your errands now. We can talk about Rosie tonight at dinner."

Tristan nodded and placed his hat on his head. "I'll look forward to the conversation, then."

As Cameron watched his cousin leave, his gut twisted. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation at all, especially the part when he would beg his cousin not to help.

* * * *

Madison perched on the edge of the seat inside the hackney carriage and wrung her hands on her lap. Fright was an emotion she hadn't felt for so long. But as she entered Ilford, she couldn't stop the fear rippling through her.

Since she was six years old and was sent to live with her aunt and uncle after her parent's death, the word Ilford had been taboo. Nobody talked about the town where she'd lived when her parents were killed at a furniture shop when the building caught on fire. All Madison knew was that the very mention of the word Ilford would set off her aunt and uncle. If they had any idea what she was doing now, it would send her uncle into another drunken spree and give her aunt melancholy for at least a week.

Taking an uneasy breath, she tried to relax against the seat of the hackney. Memories of those hard years growing up with such unstable relatives swirled through her head. Madison had to grow up faster than most girls, mainly because she couldn't rely on her guardians to do anything for her. They were off in their own little world—her uncle with his whiskey and her aunt who was always in her bedchamber with her smelling salts nearby, blaming her constant despondency.

They had never believed in Madison's gift. Several times her uncle had brought in a priest to try to rid her of evil spirits. If not for the love and acceptance from her friend, Josephine, Madison wasn't sure where she would be today.

As the hackney drove up the main street, she studied each house, each shop, and each farm. It surprised Madison how lovely the town appeared. Doom and gloom were not the colors that decorated each house, as her aunt had described it. Instead, flowers adorned the well-kept yards, and the shops looked freshly painted. The people on the street seemed cheerful and offered smiles of greetings as Madison rode past.

Each time the hackney moved by a shop, she studied it carefully, wondering if that was where her parents had worked—and died. And yet, none of the shops sold furniture. She was almost disappointed when she didn't see a place like that. Then again, she was so young when they'd passed. She had very little memory of them. Sadly enough, her aunt and uncle didn't talk about her parents, either. Just like the word Ilford was taboo, so was the subject of her parents.

The hackney left the center of town and traveled toward the River Avon. The houses weren't as close out this way, and the houses seemed much larger and certainly lovelier. When the vehicle finally stopped in front of a house, she sucked in a breath. Never had she seen anything so grand. Obviously, Alice and her brother were wealthy.

The two-story, gray and white house had an arched walkway over the steps leading to the front door. The pointed roofs on the three separate sections of the house reminded her of something out of a gothic novel. One very distinguishing feature was the overhanging, second-story porch. Although it seemed out of place, Madison still liked it. The manicured lawns and tended flower gardens were magnificent and gave a welcoming feel to the place.

"Here ye are, Miss."

The driver jumped down from his seat in the back of the hackney and offered Madison his hand. She took it and climbed out of the vehicle. She dug inside of her wrist-purse to pay the man, but before she could take out her coins, she heard a man's deep voice behind her.

"I'll pay the fare."

Startled, she jumped and looked over her shoulder. Mr. Westland strode toward her, his hand outstretched with coins. When he stopped in front of the driver, he dropped the money in the man's palm.

"Thank ye, gov'na." The driver nodded. "Will ye be needin' me to wait, sir?"

"No." Mr. Westland motioned his hand toward the road. "You can be on your way now."

Madison smiled at Alice's brother. "I thank you, but you didn't have to do that. I had some money."

He shook his head. "Since it was my sister's idea to have you come here, it's only right that we pay."

An awkward silence passed between them as Mr. Westland's gaze moved over her. She'd worn one of her newer day dresses today. The velvet blue color had a way of enhancing her dark brown hair and bringing out the blue in her eyes. For some reason, she felt more of a need to impress Mr. Westland. Of course, it should really be her gift that impressed him, not her attire.

As he was looking her over, she couldn't stop from doing some observing herself. He was dressed vastly differently this morning. He wasn't wearing his uniform today, which made him seem less intimidating. Instead, he looked quite handsome in coffee brown riding trousers and knee-high boots. He wore a dark maroon jacket over a midnight black vest and matching cravat. There was no hat covering his head today, which led her to believe he'd already gone riding. And yet, his brownish-blonde waves appeared not to have been touched by the wind. Standing this close, she detected his masculine scent of spice and leather—the same scent she'd noticed yesterday.

He cleared his throat, and the sudden noise brought her more alert. "Before we go in," he began, "I need to explain about Rosie's disappearance...something that Alice isn't aware of."

Madison nodded. She'd wondered if something was off with this particular disappearance. "Go ahead."