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W here the devil is ‘the usual place’?” Will demanded, scanning the note Lucy had left with Meg when she’d set out for God knows where.

He’d been detained in the park by a distant uncle whom he’d not seen in several years and who, unfortunately, was thoroughly enchanted by the sound of his own voice. His father’s younger brother had lived in Wales for some years and had clearly saved up a decade’s worth of stories that he must have been bursting to tell someone. Will was that unlucky person.

By the time he arrived back at Gilford House he was in a foul mood—especially given that he’d hoped to have learned something from Eversham about the search for Blackwood by now. When he and Woodward had entered the industrialist’s house last night, it had been to find the master of the house gone and not a single servant on the premises. And when they’d tried to search Vera Blackwood’s bedchamber for some clue as to her relationship with either of the Hamilton cousins, they’d found it cleared of all her possessions. But no message from the detective superintendent had been awaiting him when he handed his hat, coat, and gloves to Stone.

He’d barely gotten past the entry hall when Meg emerged from a nearby sitting room.

He’d known as soon as he saw her face that something was wrong. Once he’d read the note Lucy had received from Vera, his temper had been replaced by fear. Hamilton—whether they were dealing with Jedidiah or Christopher—had already killed one man and attempted to stab to death two women.

And though they’d assumed the woman Christina Fleetwood had identified as one of her and Hetty’s attackers was the same one identified as Hamilton’s wife on the ship from America, there was a possibility—albeit a small one, in Will’s opinion—that the woman had instead been Vera herself.

He didn’t want to think that. Both because he knew that Lucy and Meg cared for Vera as a cherished friend, but also because if that was the case, then Lucy was in grave danger at this very moment.

“Where is ‘the usual place’?” he asked again, this time with more force, given his escalating fear for Lucy.

“Lucy mentioned Hatchard’s book shop,” Meg answered, sounding as fearful as he did now. “She and I went there with Vera after a couple of book club meetings.”

Will hastily scrawled a message for Eversham, which he instructed Stone to have delivered to Lucy’s cousin at once. Hopefully either the detective superintendent or his men would arrive at Hatchard’s in time to prevent disaster if his fears for Lucy were well founded.

Then, he took the stairs two at a time to reach the floor above and his study, Meg hard on his heels.

From the cabinet in the far corner, he withdrew a box containing the dueling pistols he’d inherited from his father. He’d never been much for hunting or shooting, though it was a common enough pastime for most gentlemen of the ton . Perhaps because he’d lost his father to violence. The newer pistols were much more efficient and less inclined to misfire, or so he’d heard. But these would have to do.

“Will, you’re frightening me,” Meg said as she watched her brother load the pistols. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“I have no idea,” he said frankly as he finished loading one of the guns with powder. “But Hamilton has shown himself to be brutal and without remorse. Hopefully Lucy will just have a pleasant meeting with Vera, but I have to be prepared that it will be something worse.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let her go alone,” Meg said with a note of panic in her voice.

“I sincerely doubt you could have stopped Lucy from leaving if that was her intention,” Will said wryly, pocketing the other pistol. Her loyalty and determination were two of her most attractive traits.

The idea that he loved—was madly in love with—his own fiancée was no longer as shocking to Will as it would have been a year ago. He’d seen how happy Adrian had been since his marriage to Jane three years ago—a marriage that had come as a shock to Will, who had seen Adrian as the picture of a man about town—and had, in that place deep within him that he revealed to no one, wished for the same for himself one day. But given how his parents’ marriage had been, distant but civil, he wasn’t sure it was even possible.

“One day” had arrived on the evening of the Leighton-Childe ball, and Will was certain that, though he’d known Lucy for years, that night had been the first time he’d actually seen her as anything other than his sister’s bookish friend. Now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever been able to look past her.

“I want to come with you,” Meg said, breaking into his thoughts. “I can be discreet. I won’t make a scene.”

But Will shook his head. “I can’t risk it,” he said, raising a hand as his sister opened her mouth to offer an objection. “I need you to remain here in case Eversham misses my note. He was supposed to come here this morning to report on whether they’ve found Blackwood.”

At her mulish look, Will said in a softer voice. “Meg, I know you love her, too. I promise you I will do everything in my power to bring her back here. Safe and sound.”

Meg rushed forward and gave him a hard hug. Then, brushing at her eyes, she said, “You’d better. And I’m almost certain she loves you too. Though I believe she could have done much better.”

Will smiled at the teasing, but silently he agreed with his sister. He’d just have to make sure that Lucy never had reason to regret her promise to wed him, wouldn’t he?

Hurrying downstairs, he accepted his hat and coat from Stone and stepped out to climb into the waiting hack.