and pulling on his gloves; he patently intended riding out, too.
He turned as Charles shut the door. “Are we ready to go?”
Stepping past her, Charles halted in the middle of the room. “I am, but you need to remain here.”
“Oh?” All the antagonism between them resurfaced; Nicholas eyed him with incipient dislike. “Why?”
Holding Nicholas’s gaze, Charles evenly stated, “Because we must have someone with authority here to direct the search. If any information comes in, there has to be someone here who can analyze it and act on it-by that I mean give orders.
He paused, then added, his gaze locked with Nicholas’s, “And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that two nights ago someone tried to attack Penny.”
Nicholas stared at Charles for a long moment, then his gaze switched to her. Another moment passed, then he glanced back at Charles, a faint, puzzled frown in his eyes. “Very well. I’ll remain.”
Charles nodded and turned for the door. “We’ll search until it’s full dark.”
Pausing beside her, he searched her eyes. Instead of taking her hand, he bent and swiftly kissed her. “We’ll be back within an hour of that.”
She nodded and watched him go. He left the door ajar; his boot steps died away down the hall, then she heard him call to the men as he joined them. An instant later, the thud of many hooves and the scrunch of many feet declared the searchers were away.
Looking at Nicholas, she watched as he, frowning more definitely, came toward her.
“Are the Essington ladies staying?”
“Yes. They’re in the drawing room. I’ll order dinner to be served in an hour.”
“Dinner?” He looked revolted.
She grimaced. “We still have to eat.”
He paused, then said, “I don’t understand Lostwithiel.” The words came out in a frustrated undertone. Nicholas briefly met her eyes, then looked away. “He doesn’t like me-he distrusts me, suspects me, and yet…”
He brought his gaze back to her face. “Someone tried to attack you the other night, and yes, I realize that for all you or he know, it could have been me. Despite that, he blithely leaves me here with you.”
Penny met his gaze. “Yes, exactly. And figuring out why might be the best thing you could do.”
With that tart comment, she led the way back to the drawing room.
The news, when it came, wasn’t good. Darkness had fallen when they heard the searchers returning. Penny knew what was coming when she heard the horses not riding in crisply, but walking very slowly.
She briefly closed her eyes, then, opening them, met Millie’s and Julia’s equally apprehensive gazes.
“Oh, dear,” Millie whispered, one hand rising to her throat.
Penny exhanged a glance with Julia, then rose. “I think you both should stay here-there’s no need for you to see…”
Turning, she headed for the door. Nicholas had risen when she did; he joined her. When they reached the door, he closed his hand on the knob, and looked at her. “You don’t have to see, either.”
She met his gaze levelly. “I’ve been
Neither Charles nor David were happy with her decision, but when she joined them in the cool store where they’d laid the limp body, neither attempted to gainsay her.
Someone had lit a lamp, but left it by the door; only faint light reached the table where Mary’s body lay. Even so, it wasn’t hard to see the purple marks circling her white neck, nor the protruding eyes and tongue. Penny stood just inside the door and looked, then Figgs pressed her arm and moved past, going to the table and straightening the rumpled skirts. She cleared her throat, addressed her question to the air, “Was she…do you know…?”
“No.” It was Charles who answered. “She was strangled, nothing else.”
Figgs nodded. “Thank you, my lord. Now, if you’ll leave us, Em and I will take care of her.”
“Thank you, Figgs,” Penny murmured. Figgs and Em, who helped Cook, were the oldest women in the household; to them rightly fell such tasks.
Charles moved to her side; she felt his hand close about her arm, sensed his strength close, and was grateful. He steered her out into the kitchen yard; David and Nicholas followed.
They stopped in the middle of the yard; all drew in deep breaths.
“Where did you find her?” Penny asked.
“In the woods this side of Connell’s farm.” David shook his head. “Not far at all-we’d met up and were on our way back, searching as we came.” He shivered. “The blackguard had stuffed her body under a fallen tree. If Charles hadn’t thought to poke there…”
David looked white as a sheet. Penny gripped his arm. “Come inside-you should all have something to warm you.”
They went in. She detoured via the kitchens to give orders that all the men in the search party should be served ale and cold meats, then swept into the house to supervise the same for their masters.
A dark and brooding atmosphere enveloped the house. Even though most hadn’t known Mary well, all had met her at one time or another, and this was the country-servants were people with families one knew. There was grief and confusion, shared by all; that sense of sharing, of adversity faced together, drew them closer, even Nicholas.
Hubert, having sent his men straight home, appeared alone to report no sighting. He was told the news; he insisted on going out to the cool store. He returned shortly, greatly cast down. The Essingtons took their leave. Charles, Nicholas, and Penny saw them off with thanks, then returned to the library.
Nicholas complied with Charles’s suggestion-more a direction-to write a note to Lord Culver informing him of their discovery.
Charles, meanwhile, openly wrote a brief report for London.
Ensconced in a chair, with no wish to spend time in her room by herself, Penny saw Nicholas glance at the sheet Charles was covering, but could read nothing beyond the deepening concern etched in his face.
Completed, both notes were dispatched by a rider.
Seeing no reason to abrade Nicholas’s sensibilities unnecessarily, Penny bade both him and Charles a good night in the front hall and climbed the stairs. She’d sent a message earlier excusing Ellie from waiting on her. Ellie and Mary had been friends; Ellie would be grieving.
As for herself…in her bedroom, she walked to the window, unlatched it, and pushed it wide. Looking out on the peaceful courtyard, she drew a deep breath and held it.
She thought of the man who’d come looking for her one night, thought of Mary, who that same man, it seemed, had now taken.
Why Mary? Why her?
Regardless, alongside her grief for Mary, she was immensely glad to be alive.
Charles came in. She sensed rather than heard him; he always moved so silently. He joined her before the window; his hands about her waist, he stood looking out over her shoulder, then he turned her to him.
She lifted her arms, draped them over his shoulders, and went into his arms. Felt them close around her, tight, felt the primal shudder that rippled through him as he pulled her against him. He bent his head, and their lips met, and nothing else mattered but that they were there, now, together and alive.
Together they’d been before, but never had it been quite like this. Never before had they both, he and she, simply dropped every shield, released every inhibition, and celebrated the simple primitive fact.
That they could be together like this. At this level, on this plane.
Their clothes littered the floor between the window and the bed; their hands roved, not so much urgently as openly, flagrantly, blatantly possessively-neither doubted the other would be theirs tonight.
The moon had yet to rise when he lifted her, when she wrapped her long legs about his hips and, head back, gasped as he impaled her.
Gasped again as he moved within her.
Then she raised her head, wrapped her arms about his neck, found his lips with hers, and they settled to the dance.
