“How very peculiar,” Henrietta mused.
“Yes, I suppose it is somewhat strange.”
“What lovely gardens they have,” she commented, as they rattled up the driveway towards one of the flickering pathways, designed to guide the guests to the ballroom itself.
“I must bring you here in the daylight, so you may truly admire their beauty,” Ewan said, squeezing her hand once more.
She smiled. “I should like that very much.”
“What a handsome couple the pair of you make,” Lord Averson remarked. “Indeed, it has been many years since I have seen such a pair. Not since—no, never mind. I have quite forgotten.”
Henrietta’s heart stopped for a moment, as the ghost of Patricia—Ewan’s deceased wife—came back to haunt her. It had been so long since she had thought of her, that she had almost forgotten that Ewan had once belonged to another. She knew precisely what Lord Averson had been about to say, and it stung her. He had been about to mention how handsome Patricia and Ewan had once been. She did not know why it had affected her so, in that moment, for it seemed foolish to be envious of a former relationship.
Ewan, on the other hand, had stilled at Henrietta’s side. A pained expression moved across his features, though his hand stayed in hers. Even now, with the memory of his dead wife in his mind, he refused to let Henrietta go. There was comfort to be found in that. At least, Henrietta hoped there was, for she admired him so.
“Shall we, My Lady?” he asked, as the carriage rolled to a halt.
“Yes, I suppose we must,” Henrietta replied anxiously.
A small smile graced Ewan’s lips as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I will not leave you. I will not abandon you. I will keep you safe.”
I pray that you are able to, my dear Ewan. Her heart thumped in her chest, pounding like a stampede. They were here now, and there was no backing away from what they had come here to do. Seth would not make it out these grounds a free man.
Speaking of the devil, Seth was nowhere to be seen. It was not customary for servants to attend events such as this, and so the cretin had remained behind at Lord Averson’s residence. However, Henrietta did not think it would be long before they saw one another again. Indeed, it was almost as if she sensed his ominous presence, lurking somewhere in the dark of the gardens.
She pulled her cloak tighter about herself and took Ewan’s hand as he helped her out of the carriage. Walking close together, they made their way along the beautifully-lit path towards the garden ballroom. Music spilled out of the open doors, and the laughter of revelers could be heard at a distance. It warmed Henrietta’s heart for she did love to dance and be merry. It was just a shame that she would not be permitted such pleasures that evening. Not when she had to remain on her guard at all times.
However, as soon as they entered the ballroom, the music and the lights and the dancers, in all their finery, quite took her away from the trepidation she ought to have felt. The orchestra was lively, and the coupled dancers moved with a swan-like elegance. She watched them in awe, clinging tighter to her husband’s arm.
“Might we dance, my Lord Marquess?” she asked.
“My Lady, I do not see any reason why we may not,” he replied, with an encouraging smile.
They waited until the orchestra had brought the tune to its completion, and allowed the dancers to retire or remain, before joining in the formation. A jaunty piece began to play, providing the backdrop to Henrietta’s favorite dance.
Seeing only Ewan, she flashed a contented smile as she moved towards him, their palms pressing chastely against each other. He did not take his eyes off her, either, as they moved gracefully around one another, matching each other step for step. Henrietta had never imagined she could find a partner who so complemented her, and yet here he was… against all odds.
They turned and whirled, dancing to the sprightly tune with vigor and expertise. All of Henrietta’s troubles fell away as she enveloped herself in the music and the atmosphere. It was only herself and her husband, moving as if they had known one another for an entire lifetime.
Perhaps, I may enjoy myself a little, after all.
As she turned around the next gentleman in line, and skipped back towards Ewan, her heart jumped into her throat. She had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, her knees almost buckling as she staggered into her husband’s arms. To the outside eye, it looked like an unfortunate stumble, but something had startled her: a figure, on the sidelines of the dancefloor.
“Mr. Booth is here,” she hissed in Ewan’s ear. “He is over by the statue of Artemis.”
Ewan turned to look at the spot, but the devil had vanished. “Are you certain?”
“I saw him, Ewan. I saw him.” She realized she had called him Ewan, but she did not have the strength to correct herself. Mr. Booth was here, and if that was the case, then she was on borrowed time.
“I will speak with your father, and have him alert his men,” Ewan said, taking Henrietta away from the dance. Aaron and the five soldiers had arrived in two separate carriages, following Lord Averson’s carriage at a safe distance in case anything happened on the road. The men had already been moved into position, but that did not make Henrietta any calmer. She could not quell her nerves, no matter how she tried.
“Do not leave me,” Henrietta whispered breathlessly.
“I will leave you with Averson for a matter of moments, no more,” he replied, leading her over to where his friend stood. Lord Averson had a goblet of champagne in his hand and was toasting merrily, blissfully unaware of Henrietta’s plight. He had not been let in on the plan, lest it find its way to Seth. However, the secret scheme seemed to be working. If Seth was here, then he had come to take the bait.
“Do not be gone long,” Henrietta pleaded.
Ewan lifted her hand and kissed her glove. “I will be back momentarily, I promise you.” Offering her an encouraging smile, he disappeared into the crowd, in search of Aaron Oliver.
“Lady Peterborough, might I furnish you with a glass of something sparkling?” Lord Averson asked, plucking a goblet from one of the passing trays.
Henrietta nodded. “That would be very pleasant, thank you.” She took the goblet from him without another word, taking a large sip. It was bitter and tickled her nose, but it slipped down her throat easily enough, warming her empty stomach. Perhaps this will take my mind off what is to come.
“Are you unwell, My Lady?” Lord Averson asked. “You seemed faint a moment ago.”
“It is rather hot in here, that is all,” she replied, with a forced smile.
He nodded. “I should say. Better than being out in the frosty evening though, is it not?”
“Certainly, My Lord.”
“Let us hope nothing terrible happens to us this evening, eh? I should hate to have to dive upon you once again to save you from falling masonry.”
She could tell it was intended as a joke, but it was not amusing in the slightest. She cleared her throat. “No, indeed.”
“My sense of humor is often getting me in trouble,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I meant nothing ill by it.”
“It is simply the heat again, Lord Averson. I realize that you were only teasing.”
“Then, let us clink our glasses and be merry. What do you say to that?” Lord Averson raised his goblet up. A small smile turned up the corners of her lips, as she raised her own to his.
“Yes, let us be—” The words died on her lips. Over Lord Averson’s shoulder, she spotted Isobel Booth, peering around the servants’ door at the far side of the ballroom. She was wearing the attire of a cook’s assistant, in lace cap and black dress. Across the divide, they locked eyes. Henrietta was not sure who was more startled—herself or Isobel.
Why did you come? Isobel mouthed, her eyes wide in horror.
Henrietta could not say anything.
You should not have come. Isobel mouthed again.
Tears pricked Henrietta’s eyes as she held Iso
bel’s gaze. She did not know what to do, for the woman’s expression was enough to turn anyone’s blood cold.
Go! Run! Now! Isobel urged, her mouth wide and panicked as she emphasized each silent word.
Slowly, Henrietta shook her head. I cannot, she wanted to say, but Lord Averson was staring at her. Indeed, she reasoned she must have looked quite mad, gaping into the distance after cutting her sentences short.
“Let us be merry,” Henrietta said, covering the stilted pause with a cough. “My apologies, Lord Averson, my throat is so very dry. I thought I had quite lost it for a moment there.” When she looked back at the corner where Isobel had been, the wide-eyed woman had gone. She had vanished, just like her husband.
Lord Averson laughed heartily. “Then we must have more champagne to remedy the aridness of your throat, My Lady.”
Isobel had urged her to run, but where could she run to? She could not turn from danger now, not without further inviting it into her future life. No, this needed to be done with courage and conviction. She could not back down, no matter how scared she might be. Seth would be stopped tonight, one way or another.
* * *
A few hours later, with the ball in full force, Henrietta had begun to relax. Ewan had returned from his discussion with her father, and had not left her side for the rest of the evening. Yes, she had thought she had seen Seth, but she was starting to wonder if it might have been a figment of her fevered imagination. He had not shown his face again, and nor had Isobel.
Perhaps he has decided not to strike this evening, she hoped, for she was starting to enjoy herself. The champagne’s bubbles had helped somewhat in easing her fractious spirit, and Lord Averson had ensured that she always had a goblet in hand. Either that, or he is biding his time. She did not like to dwell on the latter, for it spiked her nerves.
“My Lady, I must go and speak with your father,” Ewan said, leaning close to her ear. “We must discover if anyone has been apprehended by his men.”
Henrietta nodded. “I will remain with Lord Averson. Hurry back to me.”
“Always.” He placed a soft kiss upon her hand and blended into the crowd. Henrietta scoured the gathered revelers for any sign of Seth or Isobel, but neither of them were to be found. Then again, she did not know who else might be working for him. She continued to glance about her, trying to spy anyone who might be watching her, but all seemed to be quiet. She felt no threat, her heartbeat slowing to a normal pace.
Some five minutes later, as she was about to take a sip from her refreshed goblet, a shadow emerged from the doorway on the other side of the room. A figure stepped forward. Seth stood on the threshold, dressed in the same attire as the servers who were passing out beverages. He noticed her immediately, a grim expression passing across his face. She stared at him in fear, as he began to stalk towards her.
“My Lady, you must excuse my intrusion,” a voice called, distracting Henrietta’s attention. She whirled around to find Gerome at her side, his manner flustered.
“Gerome? Is something the matter?” she asked, puzzled.
“I was waiting with your father’s man, Clutterbuck, when His Lordship came running to us. An accomplice of Mr. Booth’s has been spotted on the perimeter and has been apprehended. His Lordship has instructed that you come at once, for he no longer believes it to be safe for you here,” he said earnestly, his eyes brimming with worry. “I am to take you to a carriage that is waiting.”
She nodded. “But Mr. Booth is here. He is right there, as you see.” She turned around to point at the wretch, but he had disappeared again. No matter how hard she looked, she could not pick him out of the crowd.
“Precisely why you must come at once, My Lady. He intends harm, and we must take you to safety before he is able to.”
“Of course.” Henrietta looked to Lord Averson. “My husband requires my attention. Please, excuse me.”
Lord Averson was too many sheets to the wind to pay her much heed. He lifted his glass and downed it in one, striving for another before Henrietta had even departed the ballroom.
She followed Gerome closely, who hurried on ahead. They stepped out of the vivaciousness of the ballroom and into the ethereal world of the lamplit gardens. She took in her surroundings, though her heart was racing. Every looming tree looked like an enemy, out to get her, and the shadows that stretched across the path no longer seemed welcoming. Instead, they held danger in their every contour.
“This way, My Lady,” Gerome urged, heading down another lit path towards the Eastern exit of the gardens. She knew Clutterbuck had been stationed there and assumed they were going to where the accomplice had been apprehended.
“Who is the accomplice, Gerome?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“A young lady named Molly. I believe she used to work for your father’s household?”
“She still does, I believe.”
He tutted. “Then this is a betrayal indeed.”
“Are we going to my husband?”
“Yes, he is waiting in the carriage to take you back to the Old Bell. Fear not, for we are almost in the arms of safety. The sooner you are gone from here, the better.” He pressed on, with Henrietta following as quickly as she could.
“I knew he would not be able to resist coming here,” Henrietta said, as they walked along briskly.
“Indeed, the villain has been waiting for this moment for a long time. His Lordship told me everything. I am sorry that you have been implicated in this unseemly chaos, My Lady. It is not befitting for a lady to find herself in peril.” He cast her a reassuring smile. “You did not collect your cloak, My Lady. Might you take my coat instead, to keep out the chill?”
Henrietta nodded, her body shivering. She did not know if it was from the cold or the fear in her veins. “That would be most kind, Gerome. I thank you.”
“Nonsense, it is my pleasure.” He removed his coat and placed it about her shoulders, before they raced on toward safety.
Not daring to turn back, she sensed a darkness following them. It moved through every shadow, dancing between the flickering torches, hellbent on snaring its prize.
Chapter 34
Before long, the pretty torches ceased to exist. The guided pathways did not lead this far, though she could still see by the silvery light of the full moon overhead. Gerome had been slightly ahead of her this whole time, acting as her beacon, but he soon began to fall behind. His breath came in ragged bursts, the exertion evidently taking its toll on him.
“Are you well, Gerome?” she asked, worried. If Seth was following them, and Gerome was struggling, how was she supposed to keep him from attacking her?
He nodded, wheezing. “Quite well, My Lady. Though I may require a moment’s pause soon.”
“Is my father’s man not around here somewhere?” She glanced into the gloom, unable to see much ahead of her. Clutterbuck was supposed to be stationed along this path, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“When I was standing with him, he was some way up this trail,” Gerome panted. “He had taken up his position at the bridge to prevent anyone from crossing that way. I suppose he thought Mr. Booth would refrain from trudging through the water, if he attempted to make a swift escape.”
“A short way, you say?”
“Yes, it is not much further now,” Gerome assured.
“Very well,” she said, trying to push away the terror that crept across her skin, setting the fine hairs on edge. The world around her felt eerie and wrong, as though there were monsters lurking nearby. She could not see any, but that did not mean they weren’t there.
I only wish to see my husband again. I want him to hold me and tell me that everything will be fine—that he will garner information from Molly and have Seth arrested forthwith. Please, allow me to live, so that I may see him again.
She realized, in that moment of abject fear, that she had fallen truly in love with Ewan. He was her ever-fixed star in the sky, guiding her home. And she did not wish to be anywhere but by his side.
For a further five minutes, they walked in stilted silence. Gerome was still wheezing a few steps behind her, but the sound of his grating breaths brought her some sense of comfort. At least she was not alone.
Up ahead, she spied the bridge that Gerome must have been talking about. Carved from sandstone, it bore two sculptured vases at either side of the entrance, the stone fruit and foliage tumbling over the lip. There were Doric-style gaps all along the curve of the bridge proper, showing glimpses of the rushing river below.
“I thought you said that my father’s man was stationed here?” she said, with trepidation, for the bridge was entirely empty.
Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 24