“What was that?” Her breath came in gasps, matching his.
“An explosive device packed into a bottle with a fuse. We called them ‘cocktails.’” He leaned against the wall of the moving elevator, chest lifting and falling, and kept her close against his side. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Are you lying?”
“Perhaps, just a bit.” She looked up at him, eyes troubled. “People are in danger because of me. This is all my fault.”
“This is not your fault. If you begin that line of reasoning, you’ll have played nicely into his game. He is not going to win. They are not going to win.” He tightened his hold on her shoulder. “Are you hearing me?”
She nodded. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and rested her head against his shoulder.
He released a deep, shuddering sigh and tipped his head back to the wall, closing his own eyes for a moment.
“I hope nobody was hurt,” she said without lifting her head.
“I believe Miles solved the problem before it came to that.”
“Did I see Isla run outside after him?”
He lifted his head, lips curling in a rueful smile. “She did. Daniel was not pleased.”
She looked at him, her own grin threatening. “I am certain he wasn’t. She makes him crazy. He should not worry so much. She is very, very competent, with years of experience running after dangerous predators and the like.”
He shook his head, both pitying his friend and completely understanding. “Easier said than done. Mistakes happen no matter how competent someone might be. There are often variables out of one’s control—and sometimes a person will rush in where fools fear to tread with no thought for self-preservation at all.”
“Come now, Detective. That sounds rather like a pointed barb.”
“Does it?” He tipped his head back against the wall again. “I wonder why that should be. Perhaps because it sounds oddly familiar.”
The elevator bounced to a stop and settled in place. Oliver opened the door, scanned the hallway, and helped Emme walk to her room. Once he settled her near the hearth, he kindled a warm fire and rang for Josephine. Emme was quiet as they waited for the maid, and he wondered if she still blamed herself for the incident.
He opened the door between their rooms and, sighing, removed his jacket, cravat, and cuff links. The day had been long, it was late, and the threats against Emme were far from over. For all he knew, his own brother might have had a hand in it.
Emme’s family’s attendance was suspicious, if nothing else but for the timing. He would have to speak with Nigel Crowe about it. Oliver knew Nigel had resumed his position on the Committee, but this time as a spy. He wasn’t at liberty to share the information but wondered if he should tell Emme so that she wouldn’t push the issue. Illegal and unethical goings-on had been part of the Committee since its inception, and Conley was quietly hopeful Nigel would be able to collect useful information. Oliver was becoming more convinced that someone on the Committee was responsible for the threats against Emme.
A quiet knock sounded on Emme’s door, and he hurried to answer it. A quick look through the peephole revealed Emme’s stepsister, Madeline, and he frowned. He opened the door. “Yes, Miss O’Shea?”
“Detective, I must speak with Emmeline. Please, it is important.” She darted a glance down the hallway.
He opened the door wider, suspicious, but allowed her entrance.
“Madeline?” Emme looked bewildered at her stepsister’s appearance. “What is it? What’s happened?” She paused. “Other than the explosive, I mean—is anyone hurt?”
Oliver motioned for Madeline to take a seat, and she perched on the sofa with Emme.
The young woman was pale, and she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. Oliver noted the pink dress, which washed out her complexion, and the severity of the chignon fastened tightly at the back of her head and hiding the beautiful strands of brown, red, and gold hair. Her large aqua eyes seemed desperate and anxious.
Emme’s voice was soft. “What is it, Maddie?”
Madeline’s eyes were liquid, and she chewed on her lower lip for a moment. She shook her head. “I believe you are in danger, but I do not know why. I hear whispers behind closed doors but never see who is talking. I’ve heard your name more than once since our arrival, and . . . and Lysette has made ‘secret plans’ for the hunt.” She winced. “She is not a good person, Emme. I know it as well as do you. I do not trust her, though I have been unable to discover her plans.”
Emme’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across her face. “Madeline O’Shea, have you been sneaking about?”
Maddie blushed even as she shook her head in denial and studied her hands. “Only enough to learn that her last secretive conversation was just before we left the lodge to come here. She specifically singled out Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Rawley. And now Mr. Crowe wishes to speak to me about bird-watching.”
“What would they possibly be planning together? And what on earth is Nigel Crowe about? When did you take up bird-watching?”
Maddie shook her head. “I have not. One of the guests at the social was regaling me with her tales. I was only nodding in agreement.”
Oliver leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve no idea what they may be planning. I am aware of Mr. Crowe’s activities, however.”
Emme waited. “And they are?” she prompted.
“Confidential.”
“Con . . . confidential?” Emme scowled at him. “We agreed not to keep secrets from each other.”
He looked at her flatly. “We did not agree to any such thing. I cannot share police business. And to my knowledge, you still have ‘confidential informants’ inside the government whose identities you refuse to divulge.”
“Of course,” Madeline whispered.
They both turned to her. “I’m sorry?” Emme said.
She nodded slowly. “Mr. Crowe must be working undercover, spying
