Page 89 of A Most Unlikely Lady
‘Right. That’s it. I shall just go find her myself,’ he muttered to no one in particular. As he was winding through the thinning crowds, a servant approached him with a sealed note.
‘For you, Commissioner Worthington.’ The servant held out the missive, his head bowed.
As soon as Edward took the note, the man disappeared back into the crowd. Glancing down, Edward’s stomach dropped.
The head of a crow. The body of a wolf. The tail of a snake.
Ripping the note open, his hands began to shake.
Ivy is in danger. Go to the stables.
He should alert the others, but glancing around, he couldn’t see any of them. They may have left already. Hannah and Killian had said something about needing to end the evening early. The last he saw of Millie and Drake, the couple were making their way to the entry. He hadn’t the time or patience to try and locate Penny and Liam.
He turned and fled the ballroom, nearly knocking Philippa over in his haste.
‘What is wrong?’ Philippa gripped his arm, holding him steady when he needed to run.
‘Ivy. Stables.’ He shoved the note into Philippa’s hand then wrenched free, his feet flying across the polished floor toward the kitchen. It was the fastest route to the stables. The fastest route to Ivy.
* * *
‘I’m so, so sorry, Ivy. I had no choice.’ Olivia’s beautiful eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She bit her lip so hard, Ivy nearly winced. Her sweet friend looked absolutely miserable, and she would have felt awful for her.
Except she’s pointing a bloody gun at my chest.
‘You are part of this?’ It was impossible.
Damnation! Philippa was rightagain. She told me not to trust Olivia.
Rage swept through her blood and Ivy forgot to be afraid. She spent her whole life fearing men like Smithwick. Men like her father. His smug smile, the triumph flashing in his eyes. The confidence that no mere woman could ever upset his plans. But to think, in the end, she’d been betrayed by her friend.
Olivia was wrong. There wasalwaysa choice. And Ivy chose to resist. If she died tonight, it would be fighting, not cowering in fear. But she would also do what she could to free her children.
Olivia had made poor use of the weapon Ivy slipped her. She had no doubt Sarah and Henry would do much better. As she stood, she snuck her hand into her other pocket, took the dagger and cut a hole in the lining so the weapon could fall to the floor beneath her skirts. She toed the thing behind her, feeling it bump into Henry’s leg. His small gasp was all the confirmation she needed. If they could cut their bonds, they could run. Ivy just needed to give them a chance.
‘Of course she is part of this. She is my wife, to command as I please, aren’t you, dear?’ The cold glint in Smithwick’s eyes left no doubt as to the kind of cruelty he exacted upon his wife.
She almost felt sorry for Olivia. Almost.
‘You promised nothing would happen to the children, Percy. You said we would let them go.’
‘Don’t call me that. You know I hate when you call me that. And what do you know of promises kept? You promised to love, honour, and obey your husband. How long did that promise last? Months? Weeks? Not even days. One broken promise deserves another. We have quotas to fill, Olivia.’
Olivia pressed a hand over her mouth. Her wide gaze flicked from Ivy back to Smithwick. ‘I can’t…’
‘You know what is at stake if you do not.’
Ivy saw the horror fill Olivia’s eyes. Whatever threat Smithwick held over her, it was a powerful one. Perhaps Olivia had less choice than Ivy assumed.
‘Take the children to the carriage waiting in the mews. Some of my men will be there to pick up the delivery, then hurry back here, wife. I’ll need help getting rid of her body.’
He’s talking about me. My body.
Sarah’s sobs grew louder and more frantic.
‘What good does killing me do, Smithwick? Worthington won’t stand for it. He’ll hunt you down like a rabid dog.’ She needed more time to think. To find an opening. To create an opportunity for the children to escape.
‘He won’t have a reason to. That’s why we must get rid of your body, Lady Cavendale. No body, no crime. And the note he finds in your reticule, the one you so helpfully left with your coat upon arrival, will confirm his worst suspicions.’
