A swift intake of breath was the only warning she had that the dynamics of the room had changed.
“Edward? What are you doing here?” Rebecca dropped the scone and hastily dusted her hands together.
Amelia looked sharply at her. Apparently, I’m not the only female to light up in the presence of an Edgerton male.
How very interesting.
“Lady Amelia. Lady Rebecca.” Edward hurried over amidst Cook’s sounds of alarm. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
“What’s wrong?” Amelia stood and gave him her chair. She was too restless to sit. Cornelius’ absence didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t have gone away without fighting to see her again. Not after the tongue lashing she’d given him regarding the last time.
“I can’t find my father.” Edward slumped into the chair as he glanced between her and Rebecca. “He didn’t retire last night. I thought he might have been with the lady he’s courting...” He trailed off with a red face as he looked at her.
She ignored the renewal of heat in her own cheeks. “He and I engaged in an argument last night during the ball. I haven’t seen him since then. My cousin escorted him from the room, I assume, after I left.” Worry cramped her stomach. “Cornelius said nothing to you of leaving the house party early?”
“No. It’s most odd. His reading spectacles are on the bedside table.” He shrugged. “Father reads when he’s out of sorts.”
It was an endearing trait, for she, too, oftentimes turned to the library’s offerings to settle her mind. “Did he pack his other belongings, perhaps when you weren’t in the room?”
“No. His valet remains as well. I checked with the man first before I sought you out.” The young viscount planted his elbows on the table and frowned. “We’re both baffled as to his disappearance.”
The boy seemed so dejected that Amelia patted his shoulder. It was good the two had mended fences, but anxiety tightened the knots in her belly. Cornelius wouldn’t leave without his luggage, his son, or his valet. Fear twisted down her spine. “Charles said he was in his cups, but I don’t think that’s quite right. Lord Winchester tried to tell me what was wrong; he was clearly disoriented though. Perhaps he lost consciousness somewhere and remains hidden even now.”
Edward slowly nodded. “No, Father is rarely foxed. He doesn’t imbibe more than one glass. Says it compromises his ability to remain alert.”
“Due to his position as a spy?”
“Oh, he resigned from the Home Office,” the young man tossed off with a wave of his hand, as if everyone knew that fact.
Hope bloomed inside her chest. He’d given up his livelihood. “He said that in passing, but I didn’t fully believe it, and he never mentioned it again.”
“Father’s been busy of late, but he’s sensitive to spirits, especially if he’s taken a measure of laudanum for his pained knee.” Edward frowned. “Come to think of it, that bottle is missing from the bureau top.”
“Dear Lord.” That’s what he’d tried to tell her. “He’s been poisoned.” Without waiting for a reply, Amelia darted through the kitchens. Over her shoulder she yelled, “Search the house. I’ll go over the grounds. You two meet me in the back parlor in two hours for a report.”
Something dreadful had happened to him; she could feel it.
After she emerged from the servants’ stairs on the second floor, she spied Charles coming from his rooms, which was odd, for her cousin always remained abed until noon, later if he’d attended a society function the night before.
“Where is Cornelius?” Amelia asked without ceremony as she closed the distance.
Charles tugged on his cuffs. Why the devil was he dressed as if he were about to attend a ton event? His expression of carefully cultivated boredom didn’t change, but he did startle slightly. “I put him in a carriage and sent him back to London.” His gaze jogged slightly downward and to the left.
She narrowed her eyes. If there was one thing she’d learned from Cornelius over the years, it was how to spot a dissembler. “You’re lying. Why?”
“He doesn’t deserve you.” Charles raised his gaze and held hers. “Forget about him.” He grabbed her hand. “It’s good riddance, I say. Now we can finally have peace.”
“He’s your best friend!” What was afoot in her own house this Christmas morn? Amelia yanked at her hand, but he tightened his hold. “Where is your compassion? He was obviously ill last night.” If Charles hadn’t done what he’d said, where the bloody hell was the marquess?
“Amelia, listen to me.” He squeezed her fingers. “We are better off without his brand of trouble.” As he peered into her eyes, his were bright with a fervor she didn’t understand. “I’ve arranged a surprise for you today.”
She shook her head. “I’m concerned about Cornelius.”
His eyes narrowed. “Leave it. Attend me in the drawing room at noon. I’ll have an announcement then that even the upstanding marquess can’t circumvent.”
“What is it? Why won’t you tell me now?” She had no patience for his usual games. Cornelius was uppermost in her mind.
Charles tsked his tongue. “It’s a Christmastide surprise, my dear.” He brought her hand to his lips. “One that will change our lives.”
Perhaps he’d fallen for a lady from the house party and wished to announce a betrothal. “I’ll be there. Right now, I have urgent business elsewhere.”
I must find Cornelius. She couldn’t imagine his state of mind... or body.
It took ten minutes to locate a cloak of scarlet wool and sturdy half boots. Then she went outside by way of the kitchen door. There was no sign of the young people.
Amelia’s heart pounded as she ran over the snow-covered lawn. The quiet of the early winter morning was all around her, and the air felt crisp and clean as she breathed in great lungfuls of it. If he hadn’t left the estate and Charles had lied about it, what had happened to him?
My cousin needs a good dressing down once I’m finished here.
And still, her heart beat so hard she was surprised it didn’t echo in the quiet. The likelihood of Cornelius being at the pond was poor. Charles couldn’t have made the trip that quickly, for he’d returned to the ballroom by the time she’d come back downstairs.
That left the outbuildings on the property.
Amelia trudged onward. She checked the stables, stirring up the staff in the process. After apologizing and sending them back to their breakfasts, she continued. Soon, she came to a line of smallish buildings used to store various things for the estate. Three of the five were unlocked, and a quick search didn’t reveal the marquess in two of them. If she didn’t find him in the last, she’d have to secure the help of the estate foreman; he’d have the keys needed.
With a sinking heart, Amelia stopped at a small, one-room stone building with a tin roof where blocks of ice were stored. Recent footprints marred the snow at the door, but the breeze had erased any that might have led to and away from the building itself. Perhaps servants had visited recently to haul ice to the house for the ball.
“Cornelius?”
There was no answer on the still air. Her breath puffed about her as she approached the door. Anxiety twisted her stomach into more knots than before. She tried the rusty handle. It pressed with an ancient click. Then she tugged on the piece of iron. The worn wooden panel swung open.
“Cornelius?”
The morning sunlight illuminated a thin strip of stone floor in the windowless building. The marquess lay on his side, a pool of vomit near his head. His lips held a bluish tint. The shell of the ear she could see was red from the cold.
“Dear God.” Amelia rushed inside. “Cornelius, please talk to me.” She dropped to her knees at his side and pulled him onto his back. Then she yanked off her gloves and tossed them to the ground. She pressed her fingers to the side of his neck. A pulse beat, though it was slow and faint. “Wake up, Cornelius.” Oh, please let him be all right. Her chest constricted so tightly that she could hardly breathe.
>
His eyelids fluttered. “Mia?” The whisper sounded almost nonexistent as he turned his head toward her.
“Yes. I’m here.” She laid a hand on his forehead. He was as icy as the floor.
He opened his eyes and struggled to focus. Did he even see her? “I’m so cold.” As if to emphasize the point, a shiver racked his body.
“I know.” She took his hands and wrapped them in her fur-lined cloak in the hopes he’d have use of the fingers after this. Tears filled her eyes. Had Charles done this to him, or had he stumbled into the building while under the influence of the drug?
“Something...” He clutched her hand through the fabric. “There was something in the punch.”
“That’s what we assumed.” She leaned down and placed a kiss on his frigid forehead. “Can you move? Do you have use of your limbs?” Had she found him too late?
“I’m not certain.” Cornelius tugged a hand away. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his evening jacket. “Don’t drink the punch, Mia. It’s bad.” His gaze was unfocused.
“Dearest, that was last night.” Amelia leaned over him and covered his upper half with her cloak in the hopes of warming him slightly. Your son suspects you were dosed with laudanum.” By whom? Charles? If so, why? Cornelius was no threat to him. “Your bottle is missing from your bedchamber.”
“Yes.” With a groan, he shoved up onto an elbow. He scrabbled in his waistcoat pocket. “I found this on the floor here.” He shoved a button into her palm.
She held the bauble up to the light. The silver around the Mother of Pearl winked back at her. “This belongs to Charles.”
“He dumped me here. I think.” Another shiver racked his body and he slid again to the floor. “He wants me dead, Mia.” Cornelius found her gaze. His eyes were more alert now, but they were haunted. Fear and anger fought for dominance in the stormy depths. “You must be careful. Get away from him.”
“Oh, Cornelius.” Her heart squeezed. Even in his sorry state he wished to protect her. “Not without you.” She laid a hand to his cheek. “I will not leave, nor will I argue with you. We’re in this together.”
“No.” He pushed her hand away and then spent the next few seconds dry heaving. “You’re in danger because of me. Go.” His expression crumpled and he sagged into the floor. “I apologize for what I said.”
“Don’t.” Despite the frigid temperature among the blocks of ice stacked along the walls, Amelia lay beside him. She awkwardly encouraged him into her arms and tucked her cloak around them both. His shaking gutted her. Would he survive? “I’m sorry too,” she whispered with her lips near his neck above his soiled cravat. “What I did to you was unconscionable.”
“You had just cause and needed to avoid scandal.” His voice rumbled in her ear, but he didn’t put his arms around her, and that fact brought her to tears. “I should have mourned with you.”
“We can do that later.” She held his head between her hands and maneuvered it so she could stare into his eyes. Gone were the blinders from her own. Her heart plummeted into her stomach as she finally realized how much she loved him. No matter what his past was or what he’d done, she wanted him. This man in her arms belonged to her more than any other she’d met; he made every other man disappear from her memory while he was around. God help her, she needed him in her life, now and forever.
But she could tell none of that to him, for like Rebecca had said, fear held her back. Instead, she said, “I could have lost you, thanks to my damned anger and unhealed grief.”
“Why does it matter?” His voice was ragged with emotion, his eyes stormy pools of regret and despair. “I am nothing. If you only knew what I’ve done—”
“Hush.” Amelia kissed him gently on the mouth despite the fact he’d recently tossed up his accounts. Oh, he was so cold. “I... I think...” Drat, she couldn’t say it, for her heart could be shattered. “I need you in my life, you great oaf.” There was nothing for it, and she hoped he understood all she didn’t say.
“Ah, Mia.” His smile was faint, and there were a trace of tears gathering in his eyes. He clung to her, his arms strong about her waist. “That’s better than I had last night.”
She couldn’t stand it any longer. Amelia held him as close as she dared and kissed him, laid claim to his cold lips as if her kisses alone could bring him back to life and vitality. Though he returned her embrace, his responses were sluggish, and his hold on her weakened.
Reluctantly, she pulled away. “We need to get you home.” She struggled to her feet. “Can you walk? If not, I can run for a footman or the stablemaster.”
“I’ll do my level best,” he whispered and shivered as she assisted him into a standing position.
Every step of the trip back tugged at her heart. She’d lost a few pieces of it to him that morning, and she couldn’t help but think he was the most precious gift she could be given on this Christmastide.
Once in the kitchen, he was propped in front of the fire like she’d been after her dunk into the icy pond. Cook draped him with quilts and plied him with a big mug of warm broth and gave him a plate of her special Christmas sweets.
Amelia watched her staff fuss over him with tears streaming down her cheeks. Charles had to be dealt with. Nothing would come between her and Cornelius this time around. If he’d have her after she’d brought them to this pinnacle with her secret keeping.
“Mia.” He tugged on her arm until she bent, and he put his lips to her ear. “Charles is mine. I will confront him.”
She couldn’t help her smile. “It is my house and my right. You need to rest.”
Affection danced in the depths of his eyes as she looked at him. “I am more skilled in such negotiations.”
“But he is my cousin, and he has annoyed me beyond reason by trying to hurt you—kill you.” Then she straightened. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it.
“Then, by all means, may the best person win.” When he winked, the remainder of her heart flew into his keeping.
All she had to do now was win him back.
Chapter Fourteen
Cornelius woke from the brief doze he’d fallen into.
“Mia?” There was no answer, for once he’d warmed from the kitchen fire as well as Cook’s various broths and teas, Amelia had escorted him to his bedchamber. Regardless of how much he’d wished for her to stay, she declined with excuses that there was much to do for the holiday. Edward had popped in and expressed his relief. They’d chatted a bit before the boy had left him alone.
He’d dropped off to sleep shortly after that and had dreamed of dark-shrouded men wielding daggers who chased him.
In an attempt to shift positions, he groaned. His body ached. His head ached. Above all, his heart ached, for his best friend had betrayed him. That loss went deep.
Why the devil would the man wish him harm or even death? Had they not always rubbed along well, shared confidences, conquered life’s problems together?
Regardless of how he felt, urgency rode his spine to discover answers. Barely had he swung his legs over the side of his narrow bed when the door flew open with enough force that it crashed against the wall.
Edward darted in. “Father. Thank God you’re awake.” He swooped over and grabbed Cornelius by the lapels and tugged him off the mattress. “You must come to the drawing room immediately.”
“Why? What time is it?” He rubbed his blurry eyes—a product of exhaustion or lingering effects from the high dose of laudanum?
His son pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the timepiece. “A tick past noon.” As he replaced the bauble, he met Cornelius’ gaze. “I believe Lord Trenton has gone mad.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. A sane man doesn’t attempt to kill his best friend. But why do you think that?” Cornelius began to strip out of his dirty and soiled clothing from the night before. He dropped each garment onto the floor while gingerly walking over the cold hardwood toward the bureau.
“The man means to conduct a wedding ce
remony... and Lady Amelia is the would-be bride.”
“What?” He froze with a clean linen shirt in hand. The sweet words she’d murmured to him in that icehouse circled through his mind like ponies on a loop. She’d kissed him, called him by an endearment, laid beside him on that dirty floor. A woman who cared nothing for him wouldn’t have done that. “The devil you say.”
“It’s true.” Edward nodded. Worry lined his expression. “Lord Trenton has assembled all the house party guests he could find, as well as some of the servants as witnesses. A clergyman had just arrived when I left the room. He won’t be talked out of his plans.”
“Are you certain?” Shock stabbed through his chest as he pulled the shirt over his head, shoved his arms into the sleeves and smoothed the garment along his torso.
“Yes.” Edward raked his fingers through his hair. “Lady Rebecca sent me for you once we realized what was at play. She’s frightened.”
“I’ll wager she is. What of Lady Amelia?”
“She hadn’t arrived.”
“Good.” Cornelius strode across the room and yanked on the velvet rope that would summon his valet. “We must proceed carefully. If Charles has indeed lost his faculties, we must do what we can to minimize harm to everyone in that room.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. Even that action hurt. “He has tried to kill me twice, and last night, I suspect he had a hand in drugging me.” A sigh escaped him. The situation was muddled. “Then he locked me in the icehouse. If those aren’t the actions of someone coming unhinged, I don’t know what are.”
“Bloody hell.” Edward added a few more swearing phrases that had Cornelius raising his eyebrows. “What is afoot in this house?”
“We shall discover that together.” A grim smile curved his lips. Pieces of his conversations with Charles came back to him, and one stood out above the rest.
Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4) Page 14