Chapter 24 #2
Westmarch crossed the ballroom with unnerving efficiency, reaching the man before he realized he had been noticed.
The man’s protest died on his lips when he saw the gleam of the hidden weapon.
He went rigid, allowing Westmarch to lead him to the exit, the pistol between them.
Their departure left Kate trembling. She closed her fan to hide the tremor before Hugh could see.
As the set ended and couples made their way off the floor, a voice sounded behind her.
“Lady Katherine, would you do me the honor of this next set?”
Lord Alverton could not have chosen a worse time. Propriety demanded she accept, yet everything in her rebelled at the thought. Not with James in danger. She swallowed and faced him. He crowded her space, his smile polished enough for a drawing room and cold enough to make her skin tighten.
“Lord Alverton.” She curtsied. “I apologize but you have caught me feeling faint. This room has become quite warm. Hugh was about to take me outside for some air.”
Alverton held out his arm. “Pray, allow me the honor of escorting you.”
She summoned a carefully composed smile as couples swished past them, heading toward the floor. “I thank you, but I prefer to have my brother accompany me.”
Alverton’s smile hardened. “As you wish. I only hope you do not come to regret your choice.”
Hugh frowned as Alverton spun and made his way to the other side of the ballroom. “I ought to teach him some manners.”
“Pay him no mind. He will find another lady to dance with soon enough,” Kate whispered. But Alverton’s abrupt departure had drawn curious whispers. Kate could hardly watch the room without comment if she was being watched.
The terrace doors stood open nearby. From there, she would have a clear view of the garden paths and the other exits. It was a better vantage point now than the middle of a crowded ballroom.
“It truly is stifling in here, Hugh. Let’s head to the terrace.”
Hugh offered his arm, his expression serious. “Right. Let’s keep up appearances.”
They escaped through the open French doors. The cool wind tugged at the hem of her silky cream gown, and the night air washed over her after the stifling heat of the ballroom.
A distant shout followed by a loud crack pulled them toward the railing.
She ran to the edge, straining to see past the moonlit terrace to the far edge of the grounds.
Two men were locked in a violent struggle.
One was the servant with the tray. The other was a man she would know anywhere.
She grasped the railing, the stone icy cold at her touch.
Her world narrowed to the white flash of his shirt, the dark shape of his body, the assailant swinging for his head.
Kate gasped, but James dodged and drove his fist into the man’s jaw. He stumbled backward before falling to his knees. James was by his side in an instant, stripping away his own cravat and winding the long strip of linen tightly around the man’s wrists. A second figure stirred on the grass.
“That must be Nicholas,” Hugh said, standing at her shoulder. “It appears he is going to have a headache in the morning.” Nicholas had pushed himself upright, one hand pressed to his temple. He and James conferred in hushed tones, and James turned toward the terrace.
Even across the expanse, with only moonlight between them, he found her. All the noise and fear fell away. James was safe. He turned back to the prisoner who continued to thrash.
Hugh shifted beside her. “Will you be well enough if I go assist them? Nicholas is clearly done in, and James has his hands full.”
Kate nodded. Though every instinct told her to keep him beside her, she would not ask him to stay when James needed him more. “Yes, go. I shall return inside.”
Hugh hesitated, then hurried down the terrace stairs.
Kate turned toward the ballroom doors, but movement at the far edge of the terrace caught her eye.
A beautiful, dark-haired woman slipped down the side staircase with her head lowered, vanishing into the narrow strip of darkness between the terrace and garden wall.
Recognition struck. It was the maid with the velvet wrap, gone before anyone could think to question her.
It had to be the Veil. Kate had not guessed her identity in the ballroom. She had seen only a maid with a wrap and a ready apology. Before Kate could decide whether to call out to her, a smooth voice stopped her.
“Lady Katherine.”
Alverton stood just beyond the terrace door, between her and the light spilling from the ballroom, all politeness and wounded pride. He blocked the doorway, cutting her off from the lights and familiar faces inside. The wind pressed cold fingers through the lace at her sleeves.
Her fingers tightened around her fan. “Lord Alverton.”
“May I escort you through the gardens?”
“No, thank you. I was just returning inside to speak with my parents.”
“You seem determined to refuse every offer I make this evening.”
“Then perhaps it would be for the best if you stop making them.”
His smile hardened. “Be careful, my lady. A woman never knows when she may need the protection of a man she has dismissed.”
Cold slid down Kate’s spine. To pass him, she would have to come within his reach. She would not give him that chance.
“Good evening, Lord Alverton.” She gave a small curtsy and moved toward the second set of French doors, only to falter. On the other side stood Lady Crofton and a cluster of the season’s most relentless gossips, their heads bent together.
If Kate entered the ballroom now, windblown and alone with Lord Alverton on the terrace behind her, Lady Crofton would turn the scene into scandal.
Every drawing room in London would hear it by morning.
She could not run to James and Hugh. They were occupied with the prisoner, and her arrival would only draw their focus from where it needed to be.
Alverton still blocked the nearest doorway.
She turned away from the light and toward the stone steps.
A narrow path ran along the side of the terrace, hidden from both moonlight and torches.
If the Veil had gone that way, it might lead somewhere useful, perhaps to the edge of the grounds where Alex kept watch.
Anywhere was better than putting herself within Lord Alverton’s reach or drawing the men’s attention away from the prisoner.
Kate ventured several paces down the path, the wind pulling tendrils of her hair loose from their pins. Behind her, gravel shifted by the terrace stairs. Kate stopped, every sense straining. Another step came, closer this time. Then nothing.
She did not turn. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her alarm.
Instead, she quickened her pace along the narrow path, gravel whispering beneath her slippers as the ballroom music thinned behind her.
Every nerve stood on end. A dark figure shifted just off the path, and in that moment she was struck with an inescapable certainty.
She had followed the wrong shadow.
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind. Another arm locked around her waist and dragged her backward into the darkness beside the terrace. Kate drove her heel down hard. Her captor grunted and his hold slipped just enough. She screamed only one word and prayed the wind would carry it far enough.
“James!”