Helena gasped, the blood draining from her body. “You can’t expect me to pay another two hundred pounds.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Miss Drummond said, waving her hand. “I want four hundred.”
The room spun, the blue colors whirling faster and faster. As the blackness crept into the edges of her vision, Helena’s hand flew out, grabbing hold of the sofa.
“I cannot,” she whispered, numbness spreading through her limbs. “The task is impossible.”
The corner of Miss Drummond’s mouth twisted up. “Consider your options, then reply to me with your answer.”
“N—”
Miss Drummond held up her hand. “Before you reply, remember there are worse things to fear than my brother. If you cross me, I will destroy you, Eveline.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LEVI OVERTON, DUKE OF LENNOX
“Should we be concerned Miss Rowe hasn’t yet returned?” Levi, pacing the library, voiced the worry tumbling in his mind. “She’s been missing for over an hour!”
Did no one find her absence troubling? After apologizing to him for the burglary, she vanished—on foot—without a companion or any indication of the direction she was headed.
Seated by the fireplace, Miss Webb, a deep frown materializing on her forehead, looked over from her conversation with Roxburghe and Warwick. “An hour? Are you certain, Your Grace?”
Roxburghe fished his pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at the face. “He’s correct. Mr. Hughes arrived a little before nine this morning.”
“Winifred and I will search for her.” Miss Webb, rising from the armchair, gestured for her sister to follow her into the corridor.
“Whom are you seeking?” Mr. Hughes asked, sticking his head through the open window and peering into the library.
“Miss Rowe,” Levi said, hoping none of the men noticed the tight wobble in his response.
“I’m certain Miss Rowe will return shortly,” Mr. Hughes said, running his fingers along the window sash’s groove. “She knows we still need to search her chamber.”
“Perhaps,”—Roxburghe crossed the room and clamped his hand on Levi’s shoulder—“we should use Miss Rowe’s absence to handle the intrusive task of sifting through her personal belongings. She may find our presence overwhelming.”
Levi nodded, grateful for the distraction from his foreboding thoughts.
“Your Graces?” Mr. Hughes leaned across the windowsill, his visible breath floating into the room. “Allow me a few moments to walk around the exterior of the house, and then I’ll accompany you both upstairs.”
Mansfield gestured at the sash. “May I close the window?”
“Yes, however, that lock needs repair, or more uninvited visitors may appear,” Mr. Hughes replied as he extracted his head.
Beaufort, Warwick, and Mansfield opted to remain in the library, each citing a personal reason to forego the task of searching Miss Rowe’s bedchamber. Instead, they huddled around the fireplace’s warmth, Beaufort bemoaning his empty stomach.
“If,” Roxburghe said as he and Levi exited the room, “Miss Rowe doesn’t return within the hour, we should take our leave. Beaufort appears ready to eat his own arm.”
“Are you offering your kitchen?” Levi asked, nudging Roxburghe with his arm. “I doubt Mr. Philbert’s ghost prepared anything.”
Roxburghe snorted. “I’ll bear the cost of Beaufort’s stomach.”
They stopped in the foyer, waiting for Mr. Hughes. Levi’s gaze shifted to the long-case clock situated beside the staircase, watching the pendulum swing back and forth.
“Do you think we’ll find anything?”
“In Miss Rowe’s chamber?” Roxburghe shook his head. “Highly unlikely. She doesn’t seem the kind to steal.”
“However,” Mr. Hughes said as he entered through the front door, “I must be thorough in my investigation.”
