Whirlwind Affair

them.

Allie's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could say a word, Caroline exclaimed, 'Lord Shelbourne! What on earth has happened?'

His dark eyes shifted between them for several seconds, then he said in a breathless voice, 'I… I don't know. I was on my way to Bradford Hall to extend my congratulations to the duke and duchess on the birth of their daughter, when just a moment ago I happened upon this man lying in the path. I heard a crashing in the underbrush, and I saw a man dashing that way through the trees.' He pointed in the direction leading away from the house. 'No doubt the scoundrel attempted to rob this poor man. I had just dismounted and was checking his injuries when you arrived.'

'Is he alive?' Caroline asked, her eyes huge.

'Yes. But he needs help. He's bleeding, and it looks as if he sustained quite a bump on the head.' Again his gaze darted between them. 'Lady Eddington, would you be so kind as to go for assistance? And Mrs. Brown, would you assist me in administering aid while she returns to the house for bandages and help?'

Caroline hesitated. 'I don't want to leave Allie alone-'

'She won't be alone,' Lord Shelbourne broke in, looking affronted. 'She'll be with me. Now be off, we must hurry.'

'Of course,' Caroline said, crimson rushing into her cheeks. 'I'll return as quickly as possible.' She turned and raced around the corner toward the house.

Allie dashed to the fallen man, lowering herself to her knees beside him. His face was turned away from her, and she gently turned his head toward her. 'Sir? Can you hear me?'

Warm stickiness oozed over her fingers, and his head turned limply toward her. She froze and stared at the man's face in stunned disbelief.

'Good heavens, I know this man,' she said. 'His name is Mr. Redfern. He sailed with me on board the Seaward Lady from America.' Questions bounced frantically through her mind. What on earth was Mr. Redfern doing here? And how serious were his injuries? Reaching out, she pressed her fingertips to his neck.

Geoffrey looked down at her, bending over Redfern's prone form, and fought to regain his composure. Damn her cursed timing! Because of her arrival, his plans were now in a shambles. He could only thank God she and Lady Eddington had not arrived upon the scene even one minute earlier, as they would have seen him thrusting his knife into Redfern's back.

He glanced downward. The hilt of his knife, just visible over the top of his boot, was stained with blood. He hastily rubbed his hand over it, only to notice the dark red streaks marring his fawn jacket sleeve and white cuffs. His heart slapped painfully against his ribs. Had Lady Eddington noticed? No, clearly she had not. And even if she had, she'd obviously assumed he'd ruined his attire attempting to help the bleeding man.

His gaze shifted to Redfern, and he recalled the man's reaction to coming upon him in the woods. Redfern's face had been the personification of stunned amazement. Geoffrey had generously given him an opportunity to produce the note, but alas, poor Redfern had not yet retrieved it. It was the last mistake he would ever make.

But now he needed to work quickly, before Lady Eddington returned with half a dozen people in tow. He needed to find out where the note was, then escape from here. And unfortunately for Alberta, she would have to accompany him.

' Alberta. There was a note in the ring box. Did you see it?'

Crouching over Mr. Redfern's body, frantically trying to find a pulse, Allie did not bother to even turn at Lord Shelbourne's question. Where was the pulse? There had to be a pulse. 'Note? Um, yes. Yes, I saw it.'

'Where is it?'

'It's-' Her hands suddenly stilled, and she frowned. Clearly Lord Shelbourne had known about the note. Yet he had not made any mention of it when she'd returned the empty ring box to him at his town house-but she recalled his odd behavior at dinner that evening.

'Tell me where the note is, Alberta. Now.'

The urgency and menace in his command slowly sank into her brain. Something was not right. As if in a daze, she gently settled her palm over Mr. Redfern's chest, then slowly withdrew it, a sense of horror washing over her.

'He's dead,' she whispered. She rose on shaky knees, then turned around to face Lord Shelbourne. 'He's…' Her voice trailed off as her gaze riveted on his bloodstained sleeve, then rose to his face. The look of pure desperation blazing from his eyes shivered a chill of fear down her spine.

'Dead. Yes, I know.' He erased the short distance between them in three quick strides. Reaching out, he grasped her upper arms in a viselike grip. He lowered his face to within inches of hers, and she involuntarily recoiled. 'Where is the note, Alberta?'

She stared into his ebony eyes that suddenly reminded her of a serpent's. Everything inside her stilled, then shifted as realization clicked into place. Redfern… the accidents on the ship… the abduction and robberies in London… the note… Lord Shelbourne… they were all connected. And while she did not know all the details, instinct told her she was now facing the danger that Elizabeth had warned her against. And based on Mr. Redfern's condition and the desperate look in Lord Shelbourne's eyes, the danger was deadly.

She tried to break free of his grip, but his fingers tightened painfully on her arms. She considered screaming, but realized they were too far away from the house for anyone to hear her. Perhaps Caroline would hear her cries, but that would only bring her running back-without help-and place her in danger as well. Besides, screaming might only anger him, give him cause to knock her out or stuff a rag in her mouth. Tie her up. Best to keep him as calm as possible.

And stall for time. Until Caroline returned with help. Swallowing to wet her dry throat, she said, 'I know where the note is.'

'Where?'

She debated the wisdom of claiming she'd burned it, but decided a story would take longer to tell him. And she needed time. 'I gave it to someone.'

His hands tightened, and she gasped against the pain shooting up into her shoulders. 'Who, damn it?'

'A… gentleman in London. A language translator. The letter was written in a foreign language I could not read.'

Clear surprise washed over his taut features. 'Foreign language? What nonsense is this?'

'It's true. I think the language might have been Gaelic.'

He frowned, then nodded. 'Gaelic. Yes, I suppose that is possible.' His eyes narrowed sharply. 'When did you give it to him?'

'The day before I left London.'

'His name?'

'Smythe. Edward Smythe.'

'His direction?'

'I'm not certain.'

He shook her and her teeth rattled. 'I don't know,' she insisted. 'I’d asked the butler to recommend a translator and he gave me Mr. Smythe's name. I simply wrote a letter of introduction, enclosed the note, then gave the entire affair to a servant to be delivered. I do not know where it went.'

Dark eyes bored into hers for several seconds. Then a growl of pure frustration burst from him. 'I have more questions, but they'll have to wait. We must get away from here.'

She lifted her chin. 'I am not going anywhere with you.'

In a blink, he released one of her arms and withdrew a small pistol from inside his jacket. He pressed the metal under her chin, his expression fierce. 'You're going to leave here with me, and you're going to do so quietly. If you scream, I swear it will be the last sound you ever utter.'

She swallowed painfully. 'You would have a difficult time explaining away two dead bodies.'

'Not at all. I shall claim the same ruffian who attacked poor Redfern returned and we were forced to flee. He grabbed you, and although I tried to save you, he absconded with you-to God only knows where. I'll wipe a bit of mud on my face, adopt a horrified countenance, and say, 'Indeed, I barely escaped the scoundrel myself ' He shoved her in front of him toward the horse. Mounting swiftly, he nearly pulled her bruised arm from the socket