“Lavinia died eight years ago. Why have you waited so long to come for me?”
“You were suffering. That pleased me. And then Mr. Wingate left London and soon after purchased his commission. We were out of the country for many years. Yet in all that time I never forgot about you, Lady Meredith.”
Hawkins continued talking, fast and furiously, and it was difficult to follow the conversation, to understand his words. When it was necessary, Harriet prompted him with a question and Meredith was grateful for her help. The other woman seemed to understand their only hope of surviving was to keep him talking—for time was fast running out.
Meredith was not in the room. Trevor felt certain of it. The marquess rubbed his brow and leaned against the wall, his gaze glued to the rows of gold-gilt chairs where the guests were seated for the musical performance.
He scanned the rows once, twice, then a final third time, but the results remained the same. Meredith was not where he had left her, nor had she moved to a different seat. At first Trevor reasoned she might have slipped away for a few minutes, as he had done, but as the seconds ticked away he grew more concerned.
If she had left on her own, she would have returned by now. Something was dreadfully wrong.
“Thinking about making another escape, Dardington?” Julian Wingate asked. “If so, I suggest you make a run for it before the soloist begins. My grandfather adores this woman, but her voice has been known to make grown men weep. In agony.”
“Wingate.” Trevor favored the other man with a curt nod. “Actually, I was looking for my wife. Have you seen her?”
“No.” Wingate raised both eyebrows. “Is she truly missing?”
“Yes.” If the situation were not so dire, Trevor might have smiled. The black fear that was rolling inside him was so intense he was now confiding in a man like Wingate on the off chance he would be able to help. “I need to ask the other guests if anyone has seen Meredith, but would prefer to do it without causing a great alarm.”
“I will help.”
The two men took off in separate directions.
“Have you seen Meredith?” Trevor asked his brother-in-law when he happened upon Jason in the card room.
“No, but ’tis strange you should inquire about my sister. I have been searching for Miss Elizabeth for nearly an hour. Finally, with great reluctance, I asked Miss Harriet where she had gotten to, and she went in search of her sister. But Miss Harriet has yet to return. Now Meredith is missing also. Do you think this is just an odd coincidence?”
Trevor frowned. “I suppose they all could have needed to leave for a few minutes to attend to some female matter, but I think they have been gone long enough for us to be suspicious.”
Jason grabbed the marquess’s arm. “Are you implying they might be in danger?”
Trevor’s blood ran cold. He was not a man given to panic, but every instinct within him was screaming with fear. “I believe it would be wise of us to locate the women as quickly as possible.”
Wingate joined them. He looked at Trevor and shook his head. “I’ve questioned the servants on this floor. No one has seen Lady Meredith. And yet they are fairly certain no one has left the house, either. She must be here somewhere.”
Trevor grimaced. “Miss Elizabeth is missing also. Her sister, Harriet, went to search for her and has not yet returned.”
Wingate’s brow drew together in confusion. “Harriet is missing, too? I had no idea.”
The marquess expelled a long sigh. If the servants said no one had left the premises, then they must assume the women were somewhere in the house. But where? It was a large residence, with many rooms. It would take several hours to search properly.
With growing concern, Trevor remembered Meredith’s shredded parasol, the bruises around her neck that night at the theater, the uneasy feeling she experienced at times of being watched. He knew they did not have a moment to lose. If Meredith was in danger, she needed to be found. Quickly.
Fear for his lovely wife made it difficult to think, but Trevor marshalled his wits. He turned in haste to Wingate. “Are you well acquainted with this house?”
“I have lived here for the past two months. And I visited often as a boy.” Wingate’s mouth curled. “Harriet and Elizabeth are guests of my grandfather. I know where their chambers are located. Do you want me to take you there?”
Trevor forced his racing heart to calm while he tried to think. “No. Is there an area of the house that is seldom used?”
“The east wing has been closed for years.”
He hesitated a moment, knowing if he were wrong precious time would be wasted. “I think we should start our search there.”
The marquess was grateful neither man questioned his reasoning, for he was uncertain if he could have formulated a logical explanation for this decision. Silently cursing himself for not taking better care of his wife, Trevor hurried down the twisting hallways, anxiously following on Julian Wingate’s heels.
When they reached the east wing the men slowed, and began a careful search of the many rooms. They found layers of dust, mountains of cobwebs, even a few mice, but no missing women. Trevor was beginning to doubt the wisdom of his instincts when the halls echoed with the sound of a terrified female scream.
The three men exchanged worried glances, then broke into a run, stumbling as they raced down the hallway.
“I think it came from here,” Jason said, pointing to the last door on the right. He reached boldly for the door handle.
“Wait!” Trevor grasped Jason’s wrist. “We don’t know what we shall find in that room. It is best to be cautious, at least until we learn what is happening.”
Jason pressed his ear to the heavy wooden door.
“Can you hear anything?” Wingate asked.
“Yes, but it is just sounds. I can’t make out the words.”
“Let me try.” Trevor pushed his way forward and leaned into the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated completely on the sounds coming from the other side. If he held himself very still, he could hear a male voice speaking rapidly, a female voice answering or perhaps asking a question. The marquess then heard something else. Moaning? Whimpering?
His hand reached down and slowly turned the latch. “ ’Tis locked,” he whispered.
“I think I can open it.” Wingate removed a long, thin implement from his breast pocket and inserted it in the keyhole. He fiddled with the lock for only a moment, then, with a slightly embarrassed grin, sprang the lock.
There was hardly time to question Wingate on where he had learned this rather unsavory skill, yet Trevor could tell by Jason’s amazed expression that his brother-in-law was equally scandalized.
“Remember,” Trevor admonished. “Be as quiet as you can. An element of surprise might make all the difference.”
Yet all their efforts at entering the room soundlessly were for naught. The moment they swung the door open, Harriet screamed.
“Hawkins!” Julian Wingate cried out in astonishment. “What the devil is going on?”
The man Wingate called Hawkins grabbed a fistful of Harriet’s hair and yanked her head back. “Make a move toward me and I’ll slit her throat.”
“Who is this man?” Trevor cried out in anger.
“My valet,” Wingate replied.
“What?” Both Jason and the marquess turned in astonishment to Wingate.
The other man shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Believe me, I am just as shocked as you. Perhaps more. He has never before exhibited such rash behavior.
“Hawkins, step away from Miss Harriet this instant,” Wingate commanded.
“My God, he has tied Elizabeth to that chair,” Jason declared in shocked tones.
Trevor’s eyes frantically searched the room for Meredith. She stood behind Hawkins, directly in front of Elizabeth, who was indeed tied to the chair. Meredith’s face was pale in the dim candlelight, her eyes alight with stark fear. She seemed unharmed, but there was a hopeless expression on her lovely face that cut him to the quick.
“ ’Tis three against one, Hawkins,” Trevor called out in anger. “End it now while you can.”
Hawkins’s mouth curled in a sneer. “I am the one holding the knife, my lord. And the women.”
“Bloody hell, he’s your servant, Wingate,” Jason said. “Do something.”
Wingate drew in a tight breath. “What do you suggest? He has a knife pressed to Harriet’s throat. If we rush him, she will be harmed before we reach her side.”
Trevor fought the urge to step forward. He knew Wingate was right. And if Harriet were cut, it seemed likely Meredith would be his next target.
“What do you want, Hawkins?” Trevor asked. “Money?”
Hawkins broke into a slow, cruel, taunting smile. “How very foolish you are, my lord. I want only to complete my mission, and nothing any of you do will stop me.”
“What is your mission?” Jason asked.
“I punish those who are undeserving.”
“You are a coward, full of bluff and pretense,” Trevor said with contempt. “I demand you put down that knife immediately and step away from the women.”
“Pretense!” Hawkins lifted his head higher and straightened his spine. His eyes blazed as he pressed the tip of the knife into Harriet’s throat. “You are a lackwit, my lord, who does not understand the importance of my calling.”
Meredith flung the marquess a despairing look. “Be careful, Trevor. He has killed before. Someone we knew. Someone we loved.”
“Yes,” Hawkins proclaimed with pride. “Even though it was a small mistake, I took great delight in ending the life of your first wife, Lord Dardington—though I know I shall enjoy it far more when I kill your current wife.”
Hawkins’s words rang in Trevor’s head, and a myriad of questions followed. The man was clearly deranged. Was his outrageous claim the workings of a sick mind?
“It is true,” Meredith said in a broken whisper. “He meant to kill me all those years ago, but poor Lavinia died in my place. ’Tis almost too horrible to imagine. Oh, please forgive me, Trevor.” Meredith bit back a sob, a mournful sound that tore at the marquess’s heart.
He glanced at his brother-in-law Jason’s features were set like granite, but his eyes never strayed from Elizabeth’s still form. If only they could distract Hawkins, they might be able to disarm him without the women being injured.
“We need to take control of this situation, Wingate,” Trevor whispered. “When I take a step closer, I want you to shove me, but not too hard. If we break Hawkins’s concentration, we might be able to overpower him.”
Wingate nodded in understanding. Trevor balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the other man to act. Everything seemed to move with infinite slowness as Wingate knocked into him. Hawkins blinked in surprise and relaxed his hold on Harriet.
She bravely took advantage of her captor’s momentary distraction and wrenched herself free. Enraged, Hawkins went straight for Elizabeth, who was tied helplessly to the chair. The blade flashed in the candlelight as he menacingly raised his arm. Trevor moved, but Jason was much quicker.
With a cry of anguish, Jason hurled himself forward, thrusting his body between Elizabeth and the knife. Trevor braced himself for the spurt of blood that was sure to follow, but Jason reached up and grasped the villain’s wrist with both hands.
The room soon filled with the grunts and groans of the combatants as they struggled for possession of the deadly blade. In a wild tangle of arms and legs, they landed on the floor, twisting and turning as each man struggled for dominance.
It was impossible to tell who was winning. Then, suddenly, Jason yanked his arm free and let fly a hard jab to Hawkins’s jaw. It stunned the servant momentarily, allowing Jason, who lay flat on his back, to gain sole possession of the knife.
Before Trevor or Wingate could lend assistance, Hawkins recovered his wits. He gave a roar of pure animal fury and lunged forward to attack. In defense, Jason raised the angle of the knife the last second before impact.
Hawkins screamed in agony, his face registering pain and shock as the blade pierced him through the heart. With a final curse, he crumpled to the ground beside Jason, clutching his chest. It was stained crimson.
The room was still with silence.
“My God, I think I’ve killed him,” Jason finally croaked.
“Good,” Harriet declared vehemently as she backed away from the inert form. A darker pool of blood was forming on the wooden floor, encircling Hawkins’s lifeless body.
Reacting with primitive need, Trevor raced to Meredith’s side, pulling her into his arms. More than anything, he needed to feel the warmth of her flesh against his, to assure himself she was truly unharmed.
She was breathless and shaking. “I knew you would come,” she said. “Somehow I knew you would find us. Would save us. I never doubted it, even when I was most fearful.”
A shudder ran through her body. Trevor hugged her closer. Meredith lifted her palms to her eyes and pressed hard to keep back the tears. “Oh, poor Harriet,” she said when she lowered her hands. “I think she has gone into shock.”