Page 51 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

Meredith adjusted her position, propping Agnes against her knees to keep her from choking. “Mr. Thornfield, and… and Harper. Or maybe the duke. They’re going to kill ’im. They’re going to kill Lord Pender!”

Meredith’s blood ran cold. “What? What did you hear?”

“They said it would look like an accident,” Agnes sobbed. “Something in the mine—they’re planning it tonight.”

Docia gasped and Meredith glanced over her shoulder to see Docia clutching the doorframe. “An accident? In the mine?”

Meredith’s thoughts raced. Lucius and Mr. Ashcroft were on their way to the mine that very moment, unaware of the danger that lay in wait. She tightened her grip on Agnes’s hand.

“Agnes, are you certain? What exactly did they say?”

Agnes nodded weakly, her face pale as wax. “Yes, milady. Mr. Thornfield said the timbers were… were weak. Harper laughed and said no one would question it—just another collapse, like before…” her voice trailed to a whisper that weaved Meredith’s spine with icicles.

Meredith’s chest tightened. She turned to Docia, her voice sharp. “Send for Mrs. Verity—now.” She came to her feet.

Docia hesitated, her usual poise cracking under the weight of the moment. “But what if they’re already—”

Meredith leaned her maid against the bed and raced to the wardrobe then yanked the door back. “Don’t even say it. Don’t even think it.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

Meredith grabbed a dark riding habit. “I’m going after them. Help me with this dress.”

Docia hurried forward and together Meredith was changed in no time. “You can’t possibly go alone.”

“No. I’ll get Bartlett.” She went back to Agnes and went down to her knees. “Docia is going for Mrs. Verity. Agnes, did you give Mr. Harper my pistol?”

“Aye,” she cried in harsh gulping sobs that Meredith had no time in which to deal with.

“Agnes, listen to me. I must reach Lord Pender and Mr. Ashcroft before they… before they…” Merdith swallowed her fear and gripped Agnes’s hand.

“It was all my fault,” she cried again.

“We can sort that out later.” Meredith did her best to quell her frustration, her irritation, her rising anxiety, her panic. “I-I must go.”

She pierced Docia with a hard stare. “Do as I said. Get Mrs. Verity. If you happen into my father, do not—I repeat— do not tell him anything of this. Then you shall remain with my maid. I’ve no time to waste.”

Docia fled, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

Meredith turned back to Agnes, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “You’ve done the right thing, Agnes,” she murmured, though her heart pounded wildly. “Can you make it to the settee?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“All right. Docia and Mrs. Verity will be back soon. Don’t tell anyone where I’ve gone.

Rest now. I’ll return as quickly as possible.

” Meredith hurried down the servants’ stairs then crept to the foyer.

Her kid-leather half boots made virtually no sound on the polished floor.

She didn’t need Verity hurrying forward in his nightshirt and cap, leveling any disapproving stares.

Not that he would. To her face. But she would not think him above alerting her father of her doings.

No matter that the duke was not Perlsea’s lord and master.

Sconces provided low lighting, and she slipped out the door. She didn’t see Bartlett, but waiting was out of the question. Time was her adversary.

She hurried in the direction of the stables; rounding the corner—“Oof.”

“Steady there, milady.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, Bartlett, you gave me a fright. I need a horse.”

“I’m way ahead of you, milady.” He led her to two horses already saddled.

“You are a godsend, Bartlett.” Meredith accepted his boost up. “We must make haste. I fear for Lord Pender’s safety.”

“Yes, milady.”

“We’ll stop just inside the copse of trees, then approach the mines on foot.”

She felt rather than saw his look of surprise. “My lady?”

“Trust me,” she said.

“Of course.” Bartlett took the lead down the path. The way was treacherous with the moon hidden behind moving clouds, but with their periodically shifting, it allowed some visibility.

They rode in silence, and with each passing minute, Meredith forced herself at a steady pace. Not kicking her mount into a headlong run thus killing herself in the process.

Ten minutes later, they reached the copse of trees and dismounted. She tried picturing the map, but all she could recall was faded squiggly lines. “We’ll have to go in through the front,” she said.

His response was but a grunt and a stomp on the ground—

“I have another way to enter.”

Meredith’s stomach dropped at the sound of a voice she didn’t recognize. “Bartlett?” Just as she said his name, she saw him lying on the ground, unmoving. Her eyes moved to the other booted feet and, slowly, she raised her gaze. “Harper?” she whispered.

“Mornin’, milady. Aren’t ye an unexpected surprise.

I see Agnes couldn’t contain her sweet trap shut.

” In the moonlight, his face took on a spectral quality.

Sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline cast shadows that deepened the hollows of his face.

A jagged scar cut from his temple to his cheekbone and gleamed faintly silver as the clouds shifted and caught on the uneven edges that made the hollows appear even more prominent. Like cracks in weathered stone.

Meredith opened her mouth to scream but the burly man had hands that matched, and one instantly covered her face, squeezing her cheeks.

“Now, now, none o’ that. Yer papa wouldn’t like it.” His low growl held a hint of sinister amusement that churned her stomach into a cramp.

She started to bend over, but he clamped his hand around her upper arm and dragged her along a path that ran behind the mine, then curved toward the cliffs.

Harper didn’t slow his steps, dragging her when she stumbled until they reached a twisted tangle of vines he kicked away.

He entered the yawning blackness first and stopped so quickly, she ran into him.

“Not a sound, milady, iff’n ye know what’s good for ye.” The growl seemed a permanent aspect of his voice. He pushed her in front of him, blocking the entrance.

Meredith recoiled. “I-I can’t…”

He rustled about but she couldn’t see a thing. “Ye can, and ye will,” he said from the dark. Flint struck against steel and seconds later he held up a lighted torch. His hand clamped her arm again. “Let’s go.”