Page 6

B y the time the missing Miss Blackwood’s father and the Metropolitan Police had been called and most of the guests at the Leighton-Childes’ party had been sent home, the hour was far advanced.

Because they had been the last persons to see Miss Blackwood before she was spirited away, Will and Miss Penhallow had been asked to remain in the townhouse of their hosts so that they could be questioned. First by the constables who responded to the initial summons that had been sent to headquarters. Then by Detective Inspector Cherrywood, who had been assigned to the case because it involved not only someone of high station with a considerable fortune but also an American.

Will stood near the fireplace of the drawing room where he and Lucy, along with her mother and their hosts, had been deposited once they’d told the gathering in the garden what had happened.

The tea tray that had been brought to the ladies what felt like hours ago was now picked over, half-drunk cups and plates of nothing but crumbs partially stacked on one another.

Behind the table where the tray sat, Miss Penhallow and her mother sat side by side. Both looked to be exhausted, and Will was about to ask Cherrywood if they might be dismissed when the door to the room opened and a couple he knew all too well stepped in.

He’d first met Eversham—Will was dashed if he could remember the fellow’s rank now—when he’d investigated the murder of Will’s father years ago. The lady with him was the detective’s wife, Lady Katherine, who owned one of the most successful newspapers in London. She was also one of the pair who wrote the column that had spawned Lucy’s book club.

When Mrs. Penhallow saw her cousin and his wife, she gave a little cry of relief and burst into tears. Beside her, Lucy wrapped an arm about her mother’s shoulder and said something soothing that no one else could hear.

Despite the fact that she’d been the one to see her friend abducted, Lucy had proved herself to be made of sterner stuff than either her mother or Lady Leighton-Childe, their hostess.

Through multiple rounds of questions—many of them particularly pointed since Cherrywood had apparently decided that this was some sort of scheme Miss Penhallow and Miss Blackwood had concocted for attention—she had kept her composure. It was remarkable, honestly. Will was certain that even Meg, whom he knew to be as levelheaded a young lady as was to be found in London, would at the very least be angered by Cherrywood’s impertinent questions, but she had sat through it all with nary a blush.

It was damned impressive.

Now, however, with Kate having taken the seat on the other side of the teary Mrs. Penhallow, Will watched as Lucy launched herself toward Eversham.

“You will find her, won’t you, Cousin Andrew?” she asked the older man as he pulled her to him in a paternal embrace. There was such trust in Lucy’s attitude toward the man that Will found himself almost jealous. He’d never inspired such blind confidence before. Not even Meg when she was small.

Silently he added “become someone to be trusted as Lucy trusts Eversham” to his unwritten list of goals for his life back in England.

“I will certainly try, Lucy,” Eversham said as he patted Lucy on the back. She pulled away from him and dabbed at her wet eyes with the handkerchief her cousin had given her.

“I simply never imagined such a thing could happen in the middle of Mayfair,” she said in a tear-roughened voice. “They were in the mews, but that is hardly hiding. It’s obvious they were waiting for Vera. They knew she would be at this ball.”

He indicated that she should return to the sofa, where Kate and Mrs. Penhallow sat side by side on one end, leaving the other side free.

“You too, Gilford,” Eversham said with a look in Will’s direction.

Not wanting to crowd the ladies, Will crossed to the empty chair near Lucy’s end of the settee.

Remaining on his feet, Eversham said, “I realize that you two have likely been subjected to multiple rounds of questions already, but I must prevail upon you to go through the details once more. There may be something that one of you remembers in the retelling. And the constable, Cherrywood, and I all have had different experiences in the police force, so we might each pick up some detail in your story that would be missed by the others.”

Feeling his own sort of relief that the seasoned detective was here to take control of matters now, Will glanced at Lucy, who had apparently been looking at him, because she hastily looked away.

Interesting.

“Lucy, let’s begin with you,” Eversham said, gesturing toward her.

Will wasn’t sure if it was because she was now telling the story before Kate and Eversham, but twin flags of color appeared on her cheeks.

“Well,” she said, sounding firm despite her embarrassment. “Meg, Elise, and I—that is, Miss Margaret Gilford, Mrs. Clevedon, and I—had decided to search out Miss Blackwood because we hadn’t seen her in some time and we were afraid she’d been waylaid in some way.”

At this, Will saw Eversham’s jaw tighten. He’d already listened to Lucy recount the tale multiple times now, and it never got less angry-making in the retelling. He knew—as did every other gentleman who’d ever attended a ton party—that there were those among them who would not scruple to take liberties with vulnerable young ladies also in attendance. But he’d thought those sorts were few and far between. He’d never imagined it was such a problem that his own sister and her friends would feel the need to rescue one another.

“We split up to search for her,” Lucy was saying when Will returned his attention to them. “Meg to the retiring room, Elise to the secluded alcoves, and me to rooms along the corridor leading to the terrace.”

Will wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful that Meg, probably because she was the youngest of them, had been sent to the retiring room, where she was unlikely to be harmed, but he was. Damned selfish of him. Especially since he’d been hidden away in the library like a coward instead of protecting his sister from the sort of predation he hadn’t even known existed at so-called civilized society entertainments.

“I, um, came across Lord Gilford in the library,” Lucy continued, her already heightened color going a shade darker.

“Did you, indeed?” Eversham turned his gaze to Will, and the younger man felt that gimlet gaze in a way he hadn’t experienced since his father died. “And what, pray tell, were you doing in the library during a ball, Lord Gilford?”

Fighting the urge to bow his head in the way he and his friends had done when they were called into the headmaster’s office back at school, Will instead met the other man’s gaze without blinking. “I was alone ,” he said with exaggerated emphasis, “seeking a bit of air in between sets.”

He wasn’t about to admit he’d been in the library because he couldn’t bring himself to ingratiate himself to the heiresses and widows most likely to bring the kind of largesse through marriage that he needed to save his estates.

And the “bit of air” excuse was true enough, since he’d been unable to breathe when he’d stepped into the room and contemplated his task. He’d seen what a marriage made for dynastic or monetary reasons looked like from the time he was a child. His parents might have come to respect one another after a few years, but the fact that they had only two children together served as testament enough that their cordiality only extended so far.

Will wanted the kind of marriage his friend Lord Adrian had with his wife, Meg’s former governess, Jane. Even if he chose the most agreeable among the selected heiresses—and there was no guarantee she’d have him—it was unlikely they’d develop what Adrian and Jane had. He wasn’t sure why, but he glanced toward where Lucy sat looking his way.

Realizing he’d been caught wool-gathering, he cleared his throat and continued. “I was in the library, chatting with Miss Penhallow,” he said calmly, “when we both heard a shout from the open French doors.”

“I hurried toward where the sound had come from,” Lucy continued, “stepping out onto the terrace and toward the rear of the garden. As I went, I saw a carriage in the lane beyond. And even as I watched, I saw that Vera—that is, Miss Blackwood—was there with a large man in dark clothing. She screamed again and tried to pull away, but he was clearly too strong. I shouted at them—I don’t recall what I said—and when I did so, the man got distracted and Vera tried to get away.”

Will watched as Lucy’s face grew bleak. He chastised himself not for the first time for his lack of attention to what was happening in the mews as he trailed Lucy through the garden.

“He clouted her in the head,” Lucy said, “and before I could reach them, he hefted her over his shoulder and tossed her in.”

Eversham gave her a nod of approval. “I know how difficult it must have been for you to tell the story again, and I appreciate your strength in doing so.”

“You too, my lord,” he continued, looking in Will’s direction. “I am grateful to both of you for remaining this late to recount the story. Now I think it is time for both of you to go home and get some rest.”

Rising with Mrs. Penhallow on her arm, Kate said to Lucy, “We will take the two of you home in our carriage. Just to ensure you are safe.”

Lucy nodded, and as they crossed to the door, she said to Will, “Good night, my lord. Thank you for your assistance.”

Before he could reply, she was hurrying out of the room behind her mother and cousin-in-law.

He stared after them for a few seconds before he realized the room was empty except for Eversham and himself.

“Lord Gilford,” the detective said to him with a piercing gaze, “what exactly are you playing at?”