Mr. Hughes pushed back his chair and stood. “Where were they heading?”
“Toward the kitchen.” Miss Sinclair pointed with a trembling finger.
Levi bowed to her, and he and Mr. Hughes exited the study at the same moment, crashing into Roxburghe, who spun Miss Webb away from the collision at the last possible moment.
He glared at them. “The last time I saw the two of you together, you arrested my fiancée.”
“Mr. Braddock didn’t kill Miss Drummond,” Levi said, edging down the corridor toward the kitchen. “He lied.”
Roxburghe, his arm still wrapped around Miss Webb, followed. “And who did he lie to protect?”
“My fiancée,” Levi muttered, glancing into the library as he passed the open doorway.
Miss Webb frowned. “Miss Braddock was by my side in the ballroom for the whole of an hour prior to the discovery of Miss Drummond.”
“Will you swear to that?” Mr. Hughes asked from behind Levi.
“Certainly.” She slowed her pace. “Innocent people don’t belong in prison.”
“We need your assistance, Miss Webb.” Mr. Hughes stopped and pulled out the piece of torn lace. “We need to discover the true culprit to hasten Mr. Braddock’s release. If you would examine the ladies’ gowns for the matching fabric, we’ll know who killed Miss Drummond.”
“And those that don’t match?” Roxburghe asked, his eyes flicking between Levi and Mr. Hughes.
“Dismiss them,” Mr. Hughes said as he and Levi entered the kitchen.
With Levi in the lead, they hurried across the hard floor to a small door leading to the exterior of the house. He opened the door and swore. Two sets of partially covered footprints, one larger than the other, led away from the house.
Levi swore. “He’s got a ten-minute lead on us.”
“I’m aware,” Mr. Hughes ground out.
Wrapping his arms around his torso, Levi struck out across the frozen terrain. About thirty meters from the house, strange impressions in the snow appeared as though Miss Braddock and Mr. Drummond had stopped to make violent snow angels. A small set of footprints, followed by larger ones, lead away from the deep indentations toward the garden.
“I’d surmise she kicked him,” Mr. Hughes said, trudging around Levi toward the stone archway.
They followed the footprints into the garden, walking in a complete circle, and stopped under the arch.
“Why would she run in a loop?” Mr. Hughes frowned. “Was he chasing her?”
Levi crouched, studying one of the footprints, and realized the snow held a double imprint.
“He was hunting her.” Levi pointed at the raised portion of the footprint. “She ran in a circle, then walked backward until she could hide. Look.”
He pointed to the large footprints, which stopped beneath the stone entrance.
“Mr. Drummond didn’t search the garden. He gave up and headed toward the house, and her footprints,”—Levi indicated the smaller prints—“aren’t connected to his anymore. She escaped.”
He knew where she was heading, but he didn’t know if he’d arrive before she departed from her house.
Mr. Hughes and Levi slogged through the snow, Mr. Hughes following Mr. Drummond’s footprints and Levi following Miss Braddock’s. When they reached the street, Mr. Hughes stopped and turned toward Levi.
“Your Grace,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and shivering, “if I discover Mr. Drummond inside, what would you like me to do?”
“Detain him for an hour,” Levi replied, his visible breath floating above his head. “Once Miss Braddock is safely transported to my lodgings, he’ll not have another opportunity to harm her again.”
Nodding, Mr. Hughes turned to his left, and Levi turned right, heading down the street toward his coach.
“Follow those footprints,” Levi said, climbing onto the driver’s bench.
