Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  “I don’t know what the devil you are raving about,” Gyllford replied sullenly. “I know nothing about any other incidents.” He fell back into mutinous silence, and Ryder resolved to let him stew.

  When a half hour later they came in sight of the viscount’s immense manor, Ryder drew rein, intending to finish their discussion before reaching the house, where Gyllford’s retainers could come to his rescue.

  “This is far enough, your lordship.”

  The beefy nobleman looked deep in thought, but he bestirred himself to speak when Ryder’s fierce gaze settled upon him. “I have been considering, Sir Alex. You were justified in drawing my cork. It was dreadfully wrong of me to put Evelyn in danger, not to mention ungentlemanly.”

  Ryder’s mouth curled in distaste. “Allow me to commend you on your perceptiveness, even though it’s damned late in coming.”

  The nobleman flushed. “I know that now. And I am grievously sorry.”

  “Then oblige me by explaining yourself. Why in hell’s name did you do it?”

  “It was jealousy, I suppose. Evelyn looks up to you as a hero, and I wanted her to see me in the same light.”

  Ryder found himself staring. “You can’t be so witless as to think you could frighten her into marrying you after she’s already rejected your suit.”

  His flush deepened. “A female can always be persuaded to change her mind.”

  “By terrorizing her?” Ryder retorted scathingly. “I seriously doubt that is the way to a woman’s heart.”

  “I see that now, of course. But I swear on my life that was the first time. I had nothing to do with those other accidents you accused me of perpetrating.” Gyllford winced as he licked his split lip, then frowned. “Have there been many others?”

  If he was dissembling, it was difficult to tell, Ryder thought. “Quite a few. Two months ago, she was shot at in the woods here at the Park, and then she was nearly maimed by a wolf trap. Then three weeks ago in London, she was pushed in front of a team of draft horses. The next week, a lamp exploded in her morning room. And yesterday at the ruins, she was almost crushed beneath the rubble when part of the wall came crashing down on her. Then the burr under her saddle today. Perhaps even you are bright enough to see why you might be considered a suspect, my lord,” Ryder said with acid dryness.

  Gyllford looked genuinely horrified. “Good God, no wonder you were so outraged. But on my honor, I never would have hurt her! Never!”

  Either he was the best actor in the realm, Ryder reflected, or he actually had no knowledge of the assaults.

  “Let’s say for the moment that I believe you,” he said finally. “Who else could have done it?”

  “How the devil should I know?”

  “Well think, man. You know Eve as well as anyone, having been her closest neighbor all these years.”

  “Not well enough to guess who might have had wished her ill. Everyone admires and esteems her.”

  “What do you know about her former steward, Tobias Meade?” Ryder asked. “Would he have been irate enough to seek revenge against her for terminating his employment?”

  Gyllford’s frown deepened. “I suppose he might, at that. He was certainly bitter enough. Indeed, he applied to me for a post afterward, but I wouldn’t have him on my staff and risk his ruining my land as he did Hayden’s.” The viscount’s gaze hardened on Ryder. “Why don’t you interrogate him the way you are doing me? He is the much more likely culprit.”

  “I intend to. Just as soon as he can be located.” His men had questioned anyone who might know Meade and his wife Mabel. This morning, just moments before the hunt, Ryder had received a report regarding the steward’s expected destination after his firing—to live with Mabel’s relatives near the large town of Hertford some thirty miles away. He’d immediately dispatched a man to ascertain if Meade could be found there. If so, then Ryder meant to visit him personally.

  “You could always ask Hitchens,” Gyllford offered. “He might be privy to Meade’s intentions.”

  “Ned Hitchens? The footman who saw you rigging Eve’s saddle?”

  The nobleman’s face turned darker with spite. “He’s the one. Hitchens is Mabel’s godson, didn’t you know?”

  Ryder felt his stomach give a lurch at the odd coincidence. “No, this is the first I’ve heard of the connection. How did you discover it, Gyllford?”

  “I believe Meade mentioned it when he came to me for a job. In fact, it was through Hitchens that Meade knew to apply for the empty post at Hayden Park several years ago in the first place.”

  Ryder eyed him with skepticism. “This isn’t just a way to strike back at Hitchens for fingering you or to direct suspicion away from yourself?”

  Lord Gyllford drew himself up in renewed indignation. “My good sir,” he huffed, “I am growing extremely weary of having my word doubted.”

  Ryder hesitated to reply, all his instincts suddenly screaming at him. If there was an association between the footman and the former steward, then Hitchens was a possible suspect who had been completely overlooked, despite all their questioning. Was he in truth Eve’s assailant? He’d had the opportunity and perhaps the motive. Certainly it was seeming more and more likely that Gyllford was simply a brainless dolt rather than a devious murderer….

  Filled with an abrupt sense of urgency to act on his hunch and change course, Ryder realized he needed to return to the Park at once and have a serious discussion with Ned Hitchens.

  With a nod, he gestured in the direction of the viscount’s manor house. “You’ll make your own way home from here, your lordship.”

  “I am glad you have forgiven me,” Gyllford breathed, looking relieved.

  “Did I say that?” Ryder replied in a silken tone. “You will return home and pack. You will be traveling tomorrow for the Continent for an extended stay of undetermined duration. I don’t want you anywhere near Eve for the next several months at least.”

  Gyllford stared. “You can’t simply order me out of the country!”

  “It is your choice, of course, but I assure you, you will regret making the wrong one.”

  The viscount licked his dry lips again at the implied threat. “You wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me!”

  “Never underestimate me,” Ryder said softly.

  Gyllford evidently thought better of challenging the warning, for he gritted his teeth. “Very well, damn you. I have been wanting to visit Paris since Bonaparte’s fall, anyway.”

  “I will rely on your honor,” Ryder said dryly, “to keep your word.”

  From a special inner pocket of his riding coat, he withdrew a deadly-looking knife that he frequently carried with him.

  The viscount’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm, but he heaved a huge sigh of relief when Ryder merely reached out to slice through the binding at his wrists.

  “I will convey your apologies to Lady Hayden and explain why you had to depart so abruptly,” Ryder said.

  As the nobleman rode stiffly away, Ryder wheeled his own horse and headed back toward the Park. His mind was whirling furiously, forming a plan so he wouldn’t alert Hitchens precipitously.

  When Ryder arrived, several carriages stood in front of the mansion, preparing for departure, which doubtless meant the duchess was making good on her threat to vacate the premises.

  He dismounted and left his horse with a groom. When he entered the house, he found Eve in the entrance hall, looking on as her butler directed the bustling servants. Macky stood nearby, watching over her protectively as commanded.

  Ryder half expected Eve to order him from the house, but when she saw him, she merely gave a stiff nod. “What did Lord Gyllford have to say for himself?”

  “I’ll be happy to tell you in private,” Ryder said. He had scanned the hall for Hitchens, but there was no immediate sign of the footman. “I want Macky present, and your butler, as well.”

  “As you wish,” Eve replied, although clearly puzzled. “Dunstan, will you join us in the blue parlor?”
r />   “Certainly, my lady.”

  Eve preceded them down the hall to the parlor and closed the door behind them, shutting out the commotion. The august butler appeared impassive as usual until Ryder explained what he had learned from Gyllford—about Ned Hitchens being Mabel Meade’s godson. Then Dunstan’s expression grew grave while Eve drew a sharp breath as she mentally made the connection.

  “So you think Ned Hitchens might be behind the attacks on me?” she asked Ryder.

  “It’s possible. He had the opportunity to arrange all your accidents. He was present the day you were shoved into the street, remember?”

  “Yes. We had sent him to the carriage with our parcels.”

  “But he could easily have doubled back in time to cause your fall. And he had access to your London house, specifically the lamp on your writing desk. He knew all your plans for the house party, and he was with the serving staff when you visited the ruins. I think it was merely a bizarre coincidence that Gyllford decided to stage an accident for you this morning. Hitchens saw him and used it to his advantage.”

  “But why?” Eve asked, still bewildered. “Why would Ned wish me harm?”

  Ryder shrugged. “That is far less clear, but if he’s guilty, as I’m beginning to suspect, it’s likely Tobias Meade commissioned him out of revenge, just as we first surmised.”

  “So what should we do?”

  Ryder turned to the butler. “Where is Ned Hitchens now?”

  Dunstan replied with alacrity. “He should be upstairs, assisting the duchess’s servants with her trunks. I saw him perhaps ten minutes ago, after he returned to the stables with her ladyship’s injured horse, when he reported to the servants’ hall to receive his next assignment. Do you wish me to have him summoned, Sir Alex?”

  “No, I don’t want to alert him to our suspicions. I’ll look for him myself. But I would like two of your strongest footmen to accompany me, in case he tries to run.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  Together with Macky and two strapping footmen to assist them, Ryder quietly searched the upstairs floor while Eve followed a safe distance behind. But Hitchens was not where he had been assigned duty, nor was he to be found in the servants’ hall off the kitchens.

  “Where are his sleeping quarters?” Ryder asked the butler as they left the kitchens.

  Dunstan led them up two narrow flights of back stairs to a small chamber Hitchens shared with three other menservants. Upon seeing the room, the butler came to an abrupt halt. One cot was completely bare, and so was the cabinet where clothing and belongings should have been.

  “Looks like the wily bugger has cut and run,” Macky muttered for Ryder’s ears alone.

  Ryder nodded grimly, realizing the footman must have gotten wind of the search and gone into hiding. Yet his disappearance only reinforced the suspicion that he was the likely culprit. And at least now Ryder had a focus for his energies.

  “Hitchens can’t have gotten far,” he told Macky, “even if he was mounted. We’ll ride after him—search the entire district if we have to. Meet me at the stables.”

  Macky nodded and left quickly. There was no need for further communication between them, since they had worked together for so long.

  Eve was awaiting Ryder in the corridor, so he drew her aside and answered her question before she could even ask it.

  “It looks as if Hitchens has just taken off. Macky and I intend to search for him.”

  Her gaze was troubled as she met his. “Do you mean to go alone? Don’t you need assistance? My servants—”

  “The men I assigned to protect you will be enough, and we’ll move faster on our own. I want you to stay in the house—and make certain the twins and the aunts stay close as well. Until we find Hitchens, I don’t want any of you leaving.”

  “I understand,” Eve said gravely. “But please, be careful.”

  Ryder’s mouth twisted in a grim smile. “I will.”

  Leaving her, he returned to his own bedchamber, where he fetched two pistols and checked the priming. Thus armed, he bounded down the stairs, heading for the side door that led to the stables.

  Eve stood near the door with Dunstan, determined, Ryder surmised, to see him off.

  Before she could say a word, however, the door burst open and Cecil came stumbling in, half supported by a bleak-eyed Macky.

  “Eve!” the boy shouted, until he saw her. “Oh, God, Eve.”

  Cecil was bleeding profusely from the temple, Ryder saw, and his face was anguished, almost as much as Macky’s. Ryder felt his stomach muscles knot while Eve turned white.

  “What in God’s name happened?” she demanded. “How did you get hurt?”

  “I was bashed on the skull by three men.” He was nearly in tears. “It was all my fault. I should have protected her.”

  “Protected whom?” Ryder asked sharply, although he had the sickening feeling he knew.

  “Claire.” Cecil held out a bloody, crumpled note in his palm. “They demanded ransom. God, Eve.” Cecil offered it to his sister. “They took her. They took Claire!”

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  Raw fear coursed through Eve, turning her body cold. Barely able to breathe, she took the note from Cecil’s outstretched hand and read the barely legible print.

  Lady Hayden, if you want your sister to live, do not try to find her. I want 1,000 guineas. Gather the money and wait to hear from me.

  It was signed Ned Hitchens.

  Eve was glad when Ryder moved to support her elbow, for she wasn’t certain she could have remained standing on her own.

  He scanned the note she handed him, then said tersely, “Cecil, sit down and tell me exactly what happened.”

  After Macky had helped the boy over to a footman’s bench, Cecil explained in a stumbling recitation.

  “We were checking on the injured horse. C-Claire has such a soft heart that she wanted to make s-sure he was all right, but she knew better than to go alone, especially since Macky had told us to remain in the parlor, so she asked me to accompany her. She was feeding the horse an apple when suddenly these men came up behind us. One covered Claire’s mouth with his hand so she couldn’t scream and another hit me and I b-blacked out, but when I came to, Claire was g-gone and that ransom note was pinned to my coat.”

  “How many men?” Ryder demanded.

  “Three, I think. But there could have been more. It all happened so quickly. The ones I saw were dressed as ruffians, and they spoke poorly…the Cockney you hear in London stews.”

  Ryder’s gaze settled on Macky. “What more can you add?”

  Macky’s expression had grown savage, as if he was barely keeping control of himself. “The head groom found Lord Cecil lying facedown in the straw in the gray’s stall and alerted me. No telling how long he had been out before that, but Hitchens would not have had time to carry out an abduction himself. It must have been planned in advance, and his cohorts carried out the deed on his behalf.” Macky’s fists curled in rage. “If only I had suspected—”

  “You weren’t to blame,” Ryder returned harshly. “I was.”

  Eve saw Ryder’s jaw clench as he glanced around at the gaping spectators. They had attracted a crowd by now, and a hushed silence had fallen over the hall.

  “Let’s find some privacy,” he muttered, ushering Eve and Cecil down the hall and into the nearest room, which happened to be the library.

  Macky followed, but before he shut the door, the Hayden butler approached Eve. Silently and proficiently, Dunstan had acquired a clean cloth from somewhere, and he pressed it into her hand. “For Lord Cecil’s head wound, my lady. I will have the doctor fetched, if you wish.”

  “Yes, please do, Dunstan.”

  Crossing to the chair where Cecil had collapsed, Eve knelt in front of her brother, trying to stem her desperation as she dabbed the cloth against the ugly gash at his temple.

  She was grateful, however, when Ryder took the cloth from her and made her sit in the adjacent chai
r while he ministered to Cecil’s wound himself.

  Eve raised a shaking hand to her own temple. She felt dizzy and nauseated, her stomach churning so fiercely she thought she might faint.

  “What do we do, Ryder?” she forced herself to ask. “Hitchens’s note said we shouldn’t try to find her.”

  “We’ll find her,” Ryder stated grimly.

  “I will pay whatever he demands…whatever he wants.”

  “That may not be advisable.”

  “W-what do you mean?”

  “You and your family will never be safe until he is apprehended. Moreover, even if you pay the ransom, there is no guarantee that Claire will remain unharmed.”

  “Oh, God.” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands. “I wish they had taken me instead of Claire. Why could they not have taken me?”

  “Because you were too well guarded. And Hitchens knew that abducting your sister would cause you more pain than physically harming you.”

  “I am so very sorry, Evie,” Cecil repeated, his own voice almost a sob. “It was all my fault. I should never have let Claire go out to the stables. Macky told us to stay in the house—”

  “You could not have anticipated what Hitchens intended,” Ryder said sharply.

  “True,” Macky suddenly burst out, his own anguish apparent. “And if I hadn’t left the lass alone, she never would have been taken.”

  Eve was feeling a similar guilt. If she had listened to Ryder in the first place, if she had done as he’d told her instead of arguing with him and defying his orders, her sister would likely be safe.

  Scalding tears stinging her eyes, Eve gazed blindly up at Ryder. “So how do we get Claire back? We must hurry. She may be injured already.”

  “They won’t hurt her yet, not when it might spoil their chances of obtaining the ransom payment.”

  “But I know she is terrified.”

  “No doubt she is.” Hearing the fury in his voice, Eve returned his gaze. His eyes were harder, blacker, more piercing than she had ever seen them.

  “We won’t wait to hear from Hitchens,” Ryder bit out, “but we’re at a disadvantage, since we don’t know where to begin looking for him. We could turn the entire countryside upside down and possibly never find him. But Macky will lead a search of the district, including the village of Braughing, while I ride to Hertford in search of your former steward. If Hitchens is acting on his behalf, then Meade may know who the other ruffians are and have information about their scheme that could prove invaluable in unearthing them.”