Chapter Fifteen
L ord Charles Osbourne was dead.
Niall watched Gyda, who bent, sobbing over his still, sprawled form. His heart broke for her, even as he thanked all the deities in every heaven that Kara still lived. She had passed out in his arms, but she breathed. He whispered her name as he tapped her face gently. Looking up into the remaining group of horrified faces, he barked out orders. “Bring me water and cloths!” He glanced over at Gyda once more. “And someone find the Duke and Duchess of Stratton.”
A footman came out of the service door that Petra had used to escape.
“Is anyone else back there?” Niall demanded.
“No, sir.” The servant stared, dismayed at the scene.
“Where does it go?”
“Down to the kitchen and on this level, out to an alley in the back.”
Niall cursed, but the water arrived, and he pulled off his neckcloth. Wetting the end, he used it to bathe his wife’s face. “Kara? Darling? Come on, now. Wake up.”
She began to stir. Her eyes still closed, she frowned.
“Kara?”
Her eyes opened, but her hand fluttered up to cover them.
“Kara?”
“A moment,” she whispered. “Too many of you.”
Lying very still, she breathed deeply. He waited. When she took her hand away at last, she looked up at him and nodded. “All right, then. Back to one of you.”
She let out a gasp and tried to sit up, but fell back at once. “Oh, saints!” she cried. “Charles?” She rolled to her side—and moaned at the sight of Gyda bent over the man’s body. “Oh, no.” She started to cough, and alarm shot through Niall when she drew her hand away speckled with blood.
“Kara!”
“Never mind that. Niall, it was Petra! She was here!”
“I know. I saw her.” He sighed. “She got away.”
“Oh, God. She killed Charles, didn’t she?” Tears started to roll down her face. “He’s dead.”
Suddenly the crowd parted to allow the Duke and Duchess of Stratton through. The duke drew up short. “What’s this? What in hell is going on?”
But the duchess knew. “My boy!” she shrieked. “Charles! Charles!” She dropped to her knees, shoving Gyda out of the way as she ran her hands along his face and shoulders. “Charles? No! How did this happen?” She let out a great, racking sob. “My boy!”
The duke knelt behind her, holding her and gazing at his son while silent tears ran down his cheeks.
Gyda moved back and climbed to her feet. She stood there, her head bowed and her hands covered in blood.
Kara moaned again. “Gyda!” She tried to sit up, but began to retch, helpless as her body convulsed.
The sound of it broke through Gyda’s grief. Moving slowly, her head still turned toward Charles, she crossed to them.
“I’m so sorry,” Kara croaked. “I didn’t know he was behind the door. If I had known, I would never have gone near it.”
Gyda turned to look at her, and Niall tensed. His assistant’s eyes were blank, numb with shock. But slowly, she took in Kara’s misery. She fell to her knees. “This was not your fault. Petra took aim at me. Charles charged out of there to stop her.” She started to shake. “He died trying to save me—but it’s not my fault, either.”
Gyda’s head dropped. After a moment, she reached out to take both of Kara’s hands in her bloodstained grip. When she looked up, the numbness was gone. Fury lived in her gaze instead. “We have to stop her,” she said fiercely. “No more.”
“Yes.” Kara’s voice rasped, equally ferocious. “We finish this.”
It was a vow made over the blood of a good man. Niall placed his palm over their clasped hands. “We’ll find her.”
Gyda’s eyes glittered. “And when we do, she is mine.”
*
Niall tried to insist that Kara be taken straight to a doctor, but she refused. “We cannot waste time. We are going hunting, and it must start as soon as possible. Is Sculley still here? We need him.”
Niall settled her on a sofa in Ansel Wells’s studio and went searching. His artist friend was taking tender care of Gyda, for which Kara was beyond grateful. Ansel was surely facing the demise of the project they’d worked so hard on, but he concentrated on getting Gyda clean, warm, and plied with good brandy.
Ansel did look toward Kara with concern when she suffered through a couple of rough bouts of coughing. He raised a brow when he saw the blood on her handkerchief, but she glared him down. “Do not mention it to Niall,” she ordered him. “She gave me a couple of good wallops, but I will be fine.”
“If you say so.” He wrapped Gyda in a blanket and coaxed her into a high-backed chair with her feet up. Kara was glad to see her friend close her eyes. She hoped she could find a few minutes’ respite from bleak devastation.
She refused to close her own eyes. She had no wish to relive the horror of the last hour.
Gyda slept on when Niall came back, bringing Stayme, but not Sculley. “He’s long gone,” he said.
Kara looked to the viscount. “Send one of your largest, most threatening men to Sculley’s rooms, straight away. I want every sketch he drew of Petra Scot. If he resists, tell him Wooten will arrest him for harboring a fugitive wanted by the Crown.”
“Sedwick!” They all came alert when the shout echoed from the front of the building. “Damn it! Where’s Sedwick? I need to speak to the duke!”
Niall blinked. “Is that…?”
Robert Preston burst into the studio. “Sedwick! Duchess! What in bleeding hell is going on here?” He waved a hand. “Never mind. Listen, you were right! It was Tom masquerading as the footman at Wood Rose Abbey.”
Kara sat up. “Where is he?”
“I hauled him over to Bluefield and bade your butler to lock him away until I could find you. He had indeed been doing Petra’s bidding—and you will scarce credit what he’s said!”
“Petra Scot is not dead,” Niall said dully. “We are aware.”
“What? How—?” Preston stopped. “She was never here?”
“She was,” Kara answered.
“Is that why there’s a police van outside, discharging an army of constables?” He sounded hopeful. “Have you got her, then?”
“No.” Gyda was awake now and getting to her feet. “But we will.”
Preston placed a hand on his brow. “Who the hell was it laid out dead on that table, then?” He had been the first person brought in to identify the body. “Tom says he saw Petra just last night!”
Kara stood as well. “It was her sister on that table. Her twin sister. We’ll explain more, but we have to go. If Wooten gets a hold of us, it will be hours before we get away. I’m not waiting.” She looked around at all of them. “Based on what that woman said tonight, I can think of two paths to follow, to search her out. She spoke of using the time her sister’s death bought her. She said she was to use it to lay her plans. Plans that are meant to give this country what it deserves .” She looked to Stayme. “Can you look into that? What is going on in the government, in the royal family, or in foreign relations that she might exploit? Where is she going to try to wriggle in and wreak havoc?”
Stayme nodded. She could see the wheels in his head already turning.
“The other thought I had was that her sister’s death bought her more than time. It bought her a place to step into. An entire life to hide away in. We need to find out more about this sister.” She looked to Preston. “Which is why I want to talk to Tom Hawkins. Right now.”