Chapter 22
Jeremy stood in the center of the empty room at Skeffington’s hunting lodge, not quite ready to accept the truth. He and Ghost had made a thorough search of every room three times over, yet he still could not believe Evie wasn’t there. Glancing at the thick dust covering the mantle, the floor and the sheets over the furniture, no one had been inside for a very long time.
“Think Morris was lying?”
Shaking his head, Jeremy turned to the open door and walked outside. He inhaled deeply and glanced around the heavily wooded area. A hare hopped out from behind a birch tree, stopped to sniff the air, then darted back the way it came. Not only had he and Ghost searched the building, they had also spent several hours combing the woods, hoping to find another building, footprints, or any clue whatever. Instead, they found nothing. Yet, he knew Morris couldn’t have been lying. The potion Amelia made was quite potent. Jeremy would not have believed just how potent had he not taken it himself. Obviously, someone had given Morris the wrong location.
“What now?” Ghost asked, coming up to his side.
Reaching for the silver snuffbox in his pocket, Jeremy flipped it open and frowned at the empty interior, then shoved the thing back into his coat. “We go back and find out who told Morris that Evie was taken here. And to provide all other locations she could have been taken.” He headed toward the horses tied to a thick oak branch. “There is also a chance Scout has returned with news of Montague’s whereabouts,” he said, pulling the reins free from the branch. “God only knows why that’s taking so long,” he mumbled under his breath.
Ghost swung up into his saddle. “Has your sister heard from Montague?”
Climbing into his own saddle, Jeremy shook his head. “Phyllis has made herself sick, to the point of nearly losing her child, thinking something has happened to the man. I went to see her last evening, but she still hasn’t heard anything. Not even a note.” He nudged his horse forward. “And I cannot tell her the truth, that her husband has gone into hiding for nearly killing my wife and not because he has had some terrible accident.”
Ghost glanced over to him, a smile dancing in his eyes. “So, it’s true, then.”
“What is that?” Jeremy asked and narrowed his eyes when his friend released a chuckle.
A mockingbird cackled from the top of a yule tree, echoing Ghost. “You really married Lady Evie.”
Jeremy closed his eyes briefly at the mention of her name. Something bucked within his chest and he realized he missed her. Not only that, he was desperate to see her safely back in his arms. “Yes,” he answered, “I really married her.”
Ghost couldn’t have smiled any wider if he tried. “I thought so.” Then he wagged his brows. “Although, I heard you were her second choice.”
Jeremy didn’t find the statement amusing in the least. He shifted in his saddle and urged his horse to go faster. The sooner they reached London, the better. He hoped something had turned up while he and Ghost had been away. Something that would lead them to Evie. Yet, he was sure that was not the case. Elder had promised to send word if anything new had been found.
The air had a heavy, damp chill as they made their way south into London that evening. Jeremy noticed the halo around the streetlamps, as though the mist hung suspended without falling to the ground. As silly as it was to recall, he was grateful for that ugly brown wool coat Evie had been wearing the last time he saw her, and hoped she had it still.
When the museum came into view, Jeremy nodded toward the building. “Tell Elder and the others we found nothing at Skeffington’s hunting cabin. I must go check on my sister, then I will come back here. If there is anything new, come report it to me immediately.”
Ghost inclined his head. “Of course.” Then he drew his brows, obviously fighting the pain filling his eyes. “I hope Lady Montague recovers completely.”
“I will tell her you said that,” Jeremy said softly and turned his horse to the west. He knew how difficult it was for Ghost—Lord Bentwood—to think of losing his beloved Anna and their son in childbirth. His hands gripped tight on the reins, getting a tiny glimmer of how it would feel to lose Evie. Since the moment he learned she had been taken, he’d refused to consider the possibility of not getting her back. He’d been certain he would find her, charge to her location, and retrieve her.
Yet, now, doubt made a tiny crack in his stony resolve. It hurt like hell.
Jeremy stopped his horse right there in the middle of the street, half a block from his destination and placed a hand over his pounding heart. If he lost Evie now, when he had just found her, he honestly could not tell what he’d do. Bowing his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, certain that might be the one thing that would destroy him. Above anything else, that could very well do it.
Lifting his head, he popped open his eyes as determination burned through his veins. He refused to lose Evie, and once he had her safely back, he would not let her go. Whatever it took, he would convince her to stay. She belonged to him. She was the other half of his very soul.
With a deep breath, Jeremy nudged his horse forward. He reached his sister’s house and noticed the Amersleigh carriage out front. Hoping the news would not be grim, he slid to the ground and walked to the front door.
The butler was slow to answer his knock. Jeremy was about to reach for the brass knocker a second time when the door opened and the old fellow appeared, slightly out of breath.
“My lord, please come in.” He held the door open and closed it once Jeremy had entered the foyer. “Apologies for the delay in answering.” The butler paused to catch his breath, then nodded toward the stairs. “Lady Amersleigh made a large assortment of requests. Please, come this way.”
Jeremy followed the man into the drawing room and swallowed back a groan when he saw his mother pacing the room, gin in hand. The butler bowed, gave him an apologetic look, for either the delay in answering the door or for leaving him alone with his mother, then hurried from the room.
“Jeremy, where have you been?” his mother demanded as she charged forward.
“Forgive me, Mother, I had an urgent matter to attend.”
She narrowed her eyes, as though to question what matter could have been so urgent, then sighed to let it go. “Lady Amersleigh arrived half an hour ago.” She took a long pull from her drink. “I have no idea what is happening. No one tells me anything.”
Blowing out a breath, Jeremy glanced around. “Still no word from Lord Montague?”
His mother pulled a face then drained her glass. “Nothing. That is most certainly the reason Phyllis is in her current condition. She is convinced something horrible has happened to him and has worried herself sick.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I fear she may lose the child as a result.”
Jeremy did not like the sound of that, but had no idea how to help his sister. Truly, he wished he had listened to the small voice a year ago that told him not to allow Phyllis to marry Montague. Yet, his sister had been terribly unhappy from the moment Claremont married Megan, that he didn’t have the heart to refuse her request.
With a sigh, he took his mother’s glass when she held it out to him for a refill. He walked to the liquor cart and noticed several inches had already been poured from the gin decanter. After making her drink, he decided on a cognac for himself and walked to the sofa. “Come, let us be comfortable while we wait.”
With a tired sigh, she rounded the sofa and sat. Jeremy noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes as she reached for her glass. He took his seat beside her. “If you’re not sleeping well, I am sure Lady Amersleigh can provide a tonic.”
She shook her head and he noticed the silver strands twisted in between the golden ones more prevalent than ever before. “I haven’t slept well in years.”
Jeremy sipped his cognac and set it aside. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his silver snuffbox when Montague’s card slipped out. It tumbled onto the cushion between them, the silver snake glistening in the butter-yellow lamp
light.
He was about to reach for it when his mother looked down at the card. Her eyes went wide and she gasped, then shot up from the sofa, sloshing a good amount of gin onto the rug below. “Where did you get that?”
Instead of answering her question, Jeremy had one of his own. “How do you recognize this?” Never had he once considered the possibility his mother would recognize Viper’s symbol. Never.
She backed away, although her eyes were still locked on the silver snake, then shook her head.
Jeremy rose from the sofa and lifted the card. He held it up as she cringed and tried to step around him. He wouldn’t let her. “Tell me everything you know about this.” He gave her a hard look. “Everything.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she moved her head from side to side.
With a deep breath, Jeremy tried to calm his pounding heart. He knew he did not want to know what she would tell him, but still, he had to know. For Evie, he had to hear every painful word his mother would utter.
Dear God, how on earth could his own mother know about Viper?
“What does Montague have to do with this symbol?” he asked down to her bowed head.
She jerked, then glanced up. Tears coursed down both cheeks and she dashed them away with her free hand, the large diamonds glittering multicolored shards across skeletal fingers. Once his mother had been an incredible beauty. Now, her hollowed out cheeks and dark circles beneath wrinkle-creased eyes gave the impression she had worked as hard as a fishwife, instead of the genteel life of a marchioness. And there were secrets suppressed in the dull, red-rimmed eyes pleading he not ask her anymore questions. Painful secrets he wished he had detected sooner.
“Tell me, Mother.”
Her shoulders deflated and she pressed her glass into his hand. “I need to sit down.” She ambled back to the sofa.
Jeremy considered using Amelia’s potion and very nearly slipped the remaining few drops into her glass. But there was just enough for one more dose and he could well need it later. With a sigh, he set the drink aside and took the seat beside his mother. He waited for her to speak.
Finally, after struggling for a full minute to say something, she raised her eyes to his. “What makes you believe Montague has a connection to that.” She nodded to the card still clutched between first finger and thumb.
Coming to a quick decision, Jeremy flipped over the card and held it up for her to read. “Because the man has my wife,” he snapped, trying to rein in his anger. “Recognize Montague’s handwriting? I sure as hell do.”
Her brows shot up, genuine confusion clouding her gaze. “I don’t understand.”
Truly, his patience was wearing thin. Jeremy gritted his teeth for several seconds, then turned the card back over. “Just tell me what this means? Where have you seen this before?”
Her lips twisted into a frown and she shook her head. “I cannot speak about this,” she whispered and shook her head again. “I cannot.”
Jeremy breathed in deeply, wishing nothing more than to shake the answers he sought from her thin shoulders. First, he would never do something like that to his own mother, and second, he doubted it would work, anyway. Eleanor, Lady Fielding, could have survived the Spanish Inquisition without uttering a single word. He needed a different tactic. Brute force would not work on her.
He glanced around, hoping something useful would come to him. Then he recalled the ledger book. Knowing it was not very probable, he asked anyway. “Did Father have anything to do with this?”
She flinched, but kept her head bowed and said nothing.
Jeremy rubbed his eyes. They burned from lack of sleep, and he could feel the heaviness of his limbs with every movement. “I just want Evie back,” he said softly. “So, I beg you to tell me something. Anything at all that may help me locate her.” After two full minutes of silence, he rose to his feet. She would tell him nothing, so he would ask Ghost to follow her around for a while. Perhaps she would speak to someone who might have a clue about Evie’s whereabouts. “I had better see about Myran. The poor fellow probably thinks I’ve forgotten all about him.”
Her head jerked back up and her hazel eyes went wide. “What did you say?”
He had been about to turn and leave, but stopped. “I thought you knew what had happened.”
“No. Tell me,” she whispered and patted the seat.
“Myran had come for a visit,” he said, resuming his seat on the sofa. “I asked him to take you the two thousand pounds you requested since I had business to attend in Windemere.” He thought it better relay what he had told others. At least, the point about him going to his estate.
Her brows crashed together. “But I haven’t seen him.”
He nodded. “I know. The poor fellow never made it.” He held up the card with the Viper insignia. “A card like this one was left by some men who saw Myran in my carriage, stopped him near Lady Crandall’s home and gave him a sound thrashing. They thought Myran was me.”
The hand she had clapped over her mouth slid away. “I forgot all about you bringing me money, having won twenty-three hundred pounds just the day after requesting it from you. Oh, Jeremy, I forgot to tell you that and must have already left for Brighton when you were to arrive.” She held up a hand to her brow, her lips dipping down into a frown. “When I returned home, Lady Somerfield told me about how people thought you’d been in some accident, but it was all a mistake. She assured me you were perfectly fit. Then you returned from Scotland, married.” She lowered her hand and leaned closer. “How is Myran? Will he recover?”
The genuine concern in his mother’s eyes made Jeremy pause. It also brought to mind a certain conversation he’d had with Evie’s brother. “He will recover, thanks to Lady Amersleigh, although it might take a while for him to regain the use of his legs.”
She flinched. “He was hurt that badly?”
Jeremy nodded. “Nearly died.” He held up the card in his hand. “Thanks to this man. Who is he, Mother? And why are you so troubled about a young man you don’t know very well?”
She pressed her lips together and glanced away.
“Why won’t you tell me anything? Who are you protecting? I know this has something to do with Father’s death. I also know you know the man behind the symbol on this card.” He crossed his arms. “And I am beginning to wonder if there is a great secret you are hiding that involves Myran Millman. For God’s sake, tell me something. Anything at all. Evie is in great danger. I think this man means to kill her, and you have the power to help me save her.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Please, Mother, help me find her.”
Slowly, she turned back, and as she started to speak, a knock sounded at the door.
Swallowing back a sound curse, for his mother had snapped her lips back shut like a clam, Jeremy marched to the door and wrenched it open. The butler gave a quick bow. “Apologies, my lord, but Lord Bentwood said you were waiting on urgent news.” He motioned with his hand toward the front door. “He told me to come retrieve you at once.”
Knowing Ghost would never interrupt him without good cause, he inclined his head. Then he glanced over his shoulder and watched his mother retrieve her drink. “I must leave for a while, but I will return as soon as I can.”
She lowered her gin from her lips and heaved a sigh. “I am sure to be here for a while.” Her gaze lifted to the ceiling and back, the lines of worry deepening between her brows. “Perhaps even days.”
As much as Jeremy hated leaving his mother and sister when both so obviously needed him, he had to see what Ghost had learned. If any clue to Evie’s location had been found, he had to know and act immediately on the information.
With a nod to his mother, he followed the butler to the front door and found Ghost pacing the sidewalk. His friend turned and Jeremy knew something significant had happened. It glistened in Ghost’s dark eyes. He neared his friend. “What have you found?” he asked in a soft voice.
Ghost flashed a quick smile. “Dragon was waiting at headquarters when
I got there.”
Jeremy crossed his arms, quickly losing patience with his friend. “Dragon’s whereabouts do not concern me in the least.”
“They should.”
Raising a brow, Jeremy waited for Ghost to explain. Truly, he did not wish to waste another minute when Evie was out there in the hands of a madman. He had to find her.
Ghost glanced around and lowered his voice. “Dragon followed Evie from the museum. He saw her get pulled into a coach but couldn’t stop it because he was too far away.”
Jeremy’s breath caught and his arms slid down to his sides. “Does he know where she is?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 23
Evie glanced over her shoulder and swallowed hard. Moonlight splashed glowing blue light over the grass below as she dangled an incredible, breath-snatching height up in the air. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and forced air into her tight lungs. Why did she think tying sheets together and crawling out of the window would be a good idea? What if her makeshift ladder wasn’t long enough? What if her trembling hands slipped? What if one of the knots came loose? She frowned. Why hadn’t any of this occurred to her before now?
As she remained suspended halfway to the ground, she swallowed the knot in the middle of her throat and opened her eyes. She kept focus on the two hands clutching the white sheet, and nothing else. She certainly would not think about what Lord Montague wanted to do to her and the promise in his evil eyes after he’d caught her earlier and dragged her back to Freddy. Thankfully, she had been locked in her room without seeing anyone other than Lars, who brought her dinner. She had paced the room, worried sick about Lord Montague charging through the door in one of those awful black robes and glistening pentagrams. With a shiver, she continued down another few inches, hoping her quivering arms would not give out. Her muscles already ached from the strain and she had a long way to go. But she meant to get away before her imaginings came true.
Sweat dotted her forehead, even though the air chilled her bones. She bit her bottom lip as she made her way down, looping the sheet around one wrist at a time. Then something caught her attention, a tiny sound carrying down on the cool night breeze. She lifted her eyes and froze. The stone edge below the window, where the sheet was pulled tightest had begun to fray on the right side, and each time she moved, the ledge sawed more of the sheet apart.
Lord Rogue Page 23
