“His opinion may change after tonight’s ball.” The Duke of Lennox squeezed her hand, then slid from the bed. “Your brother and I have some business to attend. Roxburghe, Mansfield, and Warwick agreed to stand guard until we return.”
“How long will you be?” Eveline scrambled off the bed and chased him to the doorway.
“A few hours.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “We heard Mr. Drummond may be staying at an inn outside town. We’re going to have a conversation with him in the hopes we can bypass any public confrontation.”
Hours passed.
When Eveline and her houseguests gathered in the foyer that evening to depart for the Venning’s ball, neither Ernest nor the Duke of Lennox had returned from their quest.
Miss Webb touched Eveline’s shoulder. “I’m certain they’ll meet us at the ball.”
Dread, Eveline’s constant companion since the printing of yesterday’s newspaper article, bubbled into her throat. Swallowing the bile, she nodded and forced a smile.
“Of course,” she replied, opening the front door.
She didn’t believe Miss Webb, and judging by the pinched expression on his face, the Duke of Roxburghe didn’t either.
The silent coach ride did nothing to ease Eveline’s growing concerns. She stared out the window at the dark street, her mind churning through gruesome possibilities.
Would Humphrey murder both Ernest and the Duke of Lennox?
Slowing, the coach turned onto the road leading to the Venning’s estate, joining a line of carriages traveling in procession. Behind them, the coach containing the Dukes of Mansfield and Beaufort turned as well, then sped up and passed them.
When their coach stopped in front of the Venning residence, the Dukes of Mansfield and Beaufort, arms folded into intimidating poses, waited on the steps, and behind them, hovering near the front door, stood Miss Sinclair, her face hidden in the shadows.
Before either Duke moved, the carriage door ripped open, and Miss Sinclair, having darted down the steps and shoved between them, stuck her pale face into the cabin.
“I beg you.” She flung herself at Eveline's feet with a sob. “Please forgive me. My mother...”
“What did she do?” Miss Fernsby-Webb asked, a hard edge in her voice.
Miss Sinclair twisted her head sideways. “She learned that I visited Miss Rowe’s?—”
“Braddock,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, leaning forward. “I know your mother enjoys gossip as much as every other lady in this town.”
Nodding, Miss Sinclair returned her attention to Eveline. “I don’t know how she knew I was there, but she tore up the article intended for the publisher and locked me in my bed chamber.”
“When we called upon you,” Miss Webb said softly, “your mother claimed you were gravely ill. However, you seem to have recovered quite well.”
The corner of Miss Sinclair’s mouth pulled. “Mother is an excellent nurse.”
As she retracted her body from the coach, the lantern highlighted several faint yellow-green bruises along Miss Sinclair’s jawline. Eveline leaped from the coach, intending to demand an explanation for the injuries, but Miss Sinclair vanished, leaving Eveline spinning in circles as she searched for the young woman.
“Looking for someone?” the Duke of Mansfield asked, appearing in front of Eveline and inclining his head in a curt bow.
“The woman who was just in our coach.” Eveline peered around him at the entrance to the house. “Did you see where she went?”
“She disappeared around the corner.” He pointed in a vague direction, then frowned. “Should I retrieve her?”
Eveline shook her head, fearing that bringing attention to Miss Sinclair’s unusual behavior would lead to more difficulties for the poor girl, and slipped her hand into the crook of the Duke of Mansfield’s arm.
He escorted her into the ballroom, seemingly unperturbed by the whispers that followed their progress around the fringes of the dance floor.
“It must aggravate you,” she said as they stopped beside the refreshment table.
“What must?” He turned, his dark gaze inspecting the couples behind them.
“To be constantly gossiped about,” Eveline replied, picking up a cup of punch.
