Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Amounting sense of futility accompanied the fading evening light. Audrey sat perched on the edge of the bench seat, her nose practically to the glass of the window and her eyes straining to see more than a few yards off the gravel path into Hyde Park.
Carrigan had spent the last hour directing the horses around the circumference of the park, along bisecting footpaths, across the Serpentine Bridge, up and down Rotten Row and the Ladies’ Mile.
He’d even gone up to the Cumberland Gate at the corner of Oxford Street, where Lady Neatham would surely have no desire to walk.
Some four hundred acres in total, the park began to empty as Audrey instructed Carrigan to make another turn near the wide western edge of the Serpentine.
In her heart, she knew what she was doing: avoiding her necessary visit to Neatham House.
It was no longer a fashionable hour to amble through the park, and the military review had come to a close.
The red uniformed foot soldiers and horse guards had returned to their barracks, leaving the plains of the park an ugly sea of churned up mud, snow, and grass.
Philip always lamented these reviews and the state in which they left the ground here.
Philip. No, she could not think of him or his confounding plan to abscond to the Continent with Freddie Walker. There would be time for that later, though she didn’t look forward to it then, either. But for right now, Hugh’s predicament was unfolding, and Lady Neatham may have played a role.
Her aunt, Lady Reed, had heard the previous viscountess’s feverish deathbed confession, and it was possible that she would have warned her niece against marrying a man who might be illegitimate.
It could have planted a seed of knowledge within Lila Neatham’s mind, which might have produced a bounty of fear.
For her children, for herself. Audrey felt something slightly similar when thinking of the risk Philip would stack against her by leaving, by falsifying his death.
She would have much to lose, should his actions be discovered.
But perhaps it wouldn’t come to that. He might see how flagrant and perilous such a deception was, and wind up doing the responsible, sensible, thing.
As the carriage had rattled around the park in seemingly endless circles, Audrey tried to contrive what she would say to Lady Neatham, should she spy her walking with her maid or a few companions.
Worse still, what would she say to her now that she had no other avenue but to go to Kensington Square?
The words eluded her. Which made her feel stupid and powerless.
Just as she’d felt when Philip had announced he was leaving her.
Audrey rubbed the sudden sting at the tip of her nose and blinked back tears. Not now. They had lost all light and night shadows swarmed the park. About a hundred yards ahead, the wide, mile-long gravel path of Rotten Row, the entirety of it lit by oil lamps, shone like a beacon.
“To Neatham House,” she called, raising her voice so Carrigan could hear.
He nickered to the horses, and they answered with renewed vigor. It only lasted a few moments. A male voice hollered loudly, hailing Carrigan.
“Hallo there! Might I ask your assistance?” the deep voice called.
Audrey’s carriage slowed. The man went on to complain about the muddy ruts in the ground from the review, and how his buggy’s wheel had sunk into it. Might Carrigan assist in pulling it free?
The carriage rocked as her driver descended. The top of his hat appeared in the window. “I’ll be but a moment, Your Grace, if you’ll permit it.”
“Of course, Carrigan, go on.” What would a few more minutes of evasion cost her?
There was nothing for it. She would simply have to come out and speak plainly to the viscountess. Ask her, directly, what she knew about Miss April Barlow.
She was busy picturing the shocked expression Lady Neatham would surely react with when a grunt and the sounds of a scuffle reached through the lacquered wood of her carriage. Audrey turned her ear and sat still.
“Carrigan?” she said after a prolonged silence. Much too silent. The man and her driver had ceased speaking. Philip had often warned her against entering the park at night, for fear of footpads and thieves, but she’d thought…with Carrigan with her…
Her pulse spiked, and Audrey slid along the bench seat toward the left door.
Their muffled voices had been coming from the right.
That instinct proved fruitful, for with a sudden jerk, the right-side door flew open.
The burning oil lamp set into the quilted carriage wall shed its light over a familiar face. Colonel Trenton.
“Your Grace,” he drawled with a callous twist of his lips.
She shoved the left door open and gathered up her skirts before leaping to the ground.
It was a good three feet, and she landed off center, her slipper skidding to the side in a patch of mud.
She hadn’t taken the time before leaving Violet House to change into hardier boots.
The heels of those, however, would have hindered her, so she was thankful for the flat soles as she dashed away from the stopped carriage, into the darkened lawn of Hyde Park.
Still, in her panic, it felt as though she were running through a pool of honey.
Back at the carriage, she heard a renewed scuffle—grunts and groans as Carrigan, no doubt, recovered and threw himself back into the fight with Colonel Trenton.
Her mind spun as she realized what was happening.
Trenton had attacked her driver. He planned to attack her.
Because she had been correct: He had killed Eloisa.
His sidearm had lost the triple leaf charm in that ballroom, and she had given away her interest at the pavilion. She was a complete fool!
And now, he’d found her alone in Hyde Park.
“Running won’t help you, Your Grace!”
The colonel must have broken away from Carrigan.
He sounded a short distance behind her, his voice strident, as if he was running too.
What had he done to her driver? Worry for Carrigan evaporated with the fear of Colonel Trenton next overtaking her.
He was a soldier and could certainly outstrip her in a foot race without effort.
Her head start was languishing. She needed to find a place to hide, and quickly.
Twilight had nearly faded to full dark, making visibility poor.
It was like trying to see through a pool of spilled ink as her legs carried her straight into it.
She knew the footpaths well enough to know that there were shrubs and trees scattered throughout the lawns, and ahead, the shallow Serpentine.
“I never wanted this to happen,” Colonel Trenton called. Panic seared like a hot brand into her chest. He was closer.
Blast! Hugh had told her to keep a knife or muff pistol on her person, but she had not thought to heed the advice. How she wished she had even a pen knife in her pocket right then.
In the dim moonlight, a gathering of trees ahead took shape.
If she could see them, so could her pursuer, and he could surely see her figure as well.
But she had no other choice. Audrey plunged between the thick, knobby trunks of two trees.
The soggy ground beneath her slurped at her slippers, threatening to tug them clear off.
And then, a deep hollow in the lawn swallowed her foot whole.
She fell, slamming onto the ground, though she felt no pain—only the terror of knowing the mistake would be fatal.
“Stop,” Colonel Trenton commanded as Audrey attempted to get to her feet. She froze, her knees pressing the skirt of her dinner gown into the wet sod, her ruined gloves planted ahead of her.
With her back to him, she had the horrible thought that this was how Eloisa had died, with her back to her enemy.
Audrey spun around, falling to the ground on her backside, to at least look her attacker in the eye.
He stood no more than three arm lengths away.
He’d stopped running and was now huffing for air as he leveled a pistol at her.
She noticed that he was no longer in uniform.
“A buggy wheel stuck in the mud, that was your diversion this time? No smoke explosion?” Her voice quavered as a deluge of fury and fear warmed her.
“I wondered at my good fortune when I saw your driver circling the deserted paths.”
She gritted her teeth at his cavalier tone and chided herself for not taking Rotten Row straight through the park’s Kensington gate. For stonewalling instead of being forthcoming and brave.
The grainy snow and the pooling mud shifted underneath her palms, seeping through the lace.
Her fingers curled and felt the hard surface of a rock, submerged in the mud.
It wouldn’t be much use against a pistol, but it was all she had.
She began to pull at it, attempting to dislodge it from the mud without Colonel Trenton noticing.
“You killed your own sister,” she said, her pulse knocking in her neck, causing her voice to undulate. “To keep her from telling the truth?”
“What do you know of the truth?” He no longer sounded confident, but harsh. Fearful.
Audrey watched him, conscious of the fact that he could fire off a shot at any moment. Why had he not yet done so? They were secluded here, without another wandering soul in the whole of four hundred acres, or at least it felt that way.
“You would not be aiming your pistol at me if I didn’t know everything.”
He growled. “Hugh promised Eloisa he would never tell a soul. Why would he tell you?”
What could he mean by that? Hugh had not mentioned promising Eloisa any such thing. Unless the colonel was speaking of something else, some other secret.
She had nothing to lose. Audrey blushed as she lied through her teeth. “He has told me. We are…quite intimate.”