“What happened to Selina?” Anger rumbled through the foyer, silencing the undercurrent of whispers.
“Who are you?” Mr. Hughes asked, turning toward the dark-haired behemoth vibrating in the doorway.
“Mr. Humphrey Drummond. Brother of the deceased.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EVELINE/HELENA
Trembling, Eveline shoved a fist into her mouth to prevent her terror from escaping and crouched down, peering over Miss Webb’s shoulder at the man who’d tormented her dreams for months.
Larger than she remembered, Humphrey doubled in size as he lumbered to the middle of the foyer. When he reached Miss Drummond’s corpse, he turned, his dark green eyes passing over the curious faces.
Gulping, Eveline ducked and slid one foot backward, shifting her weight, then moved the other, inching toward the ballroom. Her gaze never left Humphrey. She continued in this manner until she crashed into Mrs. Creasey, whose clamorous complaint drew the attention of several nearby people.
Eveline whispered repeated apologies, her voice dying as Humphrey’s deep baritone boomed through the foyer.
“Who’s responsible for this tragedy?” He glared at Mr. Venning. “Uncle? My mother entrusted Selina to your care.”
Misery passed through Mr. Venning’s eyes. “A man admitted to pushing your sister over the banister.”
Humphrey squeezed his hand into a fist, his knuckles cracking. “Give me a name.”
Mr. Venning glanced at the Duke of Lennox and Mr. Hughes as though uncertain if he should reveal the information, then said, “Mr. Ernest Braddock.”
A dark cloud permeated Humphrey’s features. “Ernest Braddock. As in, my fiancée’s brother?”
The Duke of Lennox stepped around Mr. Hughes and jutted out his chin. “Miss Braddock is engaged to me.”
Humphrey’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“Levi Overton, Duke of Lennox.”
Without warning, Humphrey swung, his clenched fist connecting with the Duke of Lennox’s jaw and sending him stumbling backward into the Duke of Grisham, who steadied him.
“You’ve been misinformed, Your Grace.” Humphrey straightened his jacket. “Miss Braddock is mine.”
Murmurs rippled through the foyer, swirling around Eveline. Before Mrs. Creasey could point out her location, Eveline turned and darted into the ballroom, exhaling a shuddering breath as Humphrey’s voice faded.
Nothing would deter Humphrey. He'd struck the Duke of Lennox as though he were the titled man who feared no repercussions for the disrespectful act.
She’d been foolish to believe the Duke of Lennox, or any other man, could protect her from Humphrey, and with Ernest in prison for murder—an act she was wholly certain he hadn’t committed—she possessed no other champion.
Wincing as her heels echoed in the empty ballroom, Eveline dashed across the dance floor, heading for the auxiliary exit. She skidded to a stop, sliding on the slick surface and grabbing hold of the doorway to prevent herself from zooming into the darkened corridor.
She doubted Humphrey’s vision was exemplary enough to find her hiding in the hallway’s shadows, but the thought gave her pause, and she froze, her fingers wrapped around the door frame. Exhaling a soft breath, she forced the upper half of her body forward, peeking around the corner.
Humphrey stood facing her, or more specifically, facing the Duke of Lennox, who’d raised his fists and shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet. Between them, his arms outstretched, stood Mr. Hughes.
“I’m certain an understanding can be reached,” Mr. Hughes said, his hand pressing against Humphrey’s chest. “Perhaps the lady?—”
“It’s not her decision.” Humphrey’s black eyes locked on Eveline.
Gasping, Eveline jerked her head back, her heart thrumming.
“Whose decision is it?” the Duke of Lennox growled. “Yours?”
Eveline peered around the side, exposing only one-half of her face.
