She returned to the drawing room and yanked on the bellpull several times while still watching the hall.
Daryl, one of the older footmen, careened into view, emerging from the stairway that led down to the kitchens. His eyes rounded with alarm as he caught sight of her standing in the drawing room doorway, the bellpull still in her hand.
“Yes, my lady?” he asked as he skidded to a stop and bobbed a contrite bow.
“Where is Thornton?”
“I am sure I don’t know, my lady. Shall I search the house for him?” The young man nervously shuffled from side to side, seemingly unable to stand still and most eager to dart off in search of the butler. “Shall I?”
“No. Thank you. You may go.” She waved him away. “I am quite capable of searching the house myself.” She started with the main parlor, since it was closest to the front entrance. Empty. “Either the library or my workroom. They must have taken the man to one of those.”
“Sophie!”
“Maman, either come with me or wait in the drawing room, but do not ask or expect me to stop until I find where they took that devil. I have a few questions of my own to ask him.”
Her mother surprised her with a tight-lipped glare and a nod.
Sophie charged down the hall, paused just outside the library door, then continued on to her workroom. The library was too quiet. They had to be in her workroom. Her mother caught hold of her by the shoulder and held her back just as she went to open the door.
“Are you certain? This could be unpleasant.” Maman stressed the sentiment with a gentle shake. “If you insist upon doing this, do not get close to him. Understood?”
“I understand,” Sophie replied. But really, she didn’t. After all, she felt sure that Nash and Mr. Wethersby had probably lashed the man to something. How dangerous could he be? She pushed inside, determined to wring every drop of information out of the assailant.
“Sophie!” Nash blocked her way. “You should not be in here.”
“I beg to differ. Since the attack was upon my person, I have every right to be in here, and intend to ask a few questions of my own.”
She tried to sidle past him, but he blocked her again, catching her by the shoulders and holding her in place.
“I will share what I learn. Go back to the drawing room.” He cast a glance behind him. “This could become quite unpleasant.”
She jerked free, feinted to the right, then darted around him to the left, scurrying between the worktable and the bookcase that hid her arsenal of weapons. But the sight of the man with his wrists and ankles tied to a chair halted her halfway around the table. “Horton Bainery?”
The man’s grubby scowl hardened even more. He ducked his chin and looked away.
“Mr. Bainery, you are supposed to be dead.” She angled closer to the French agent who had crossed over and sworn allegiance to England. Able to pass for an Englishman, he had once worked with Maman at the academy.
Nash caught hold of her. “Sophie. Stay back.”
“You have him tied, and you are right here.” She pointed at the man. “Let me ask my questions.”
“He will not answer,” her mother said while boldly stepping forward. “Will you, Bainery?”
The man glared at the dowager countess with such hatred that Sophie took a step back. She had never seen such loathing in the man’s eyes before. As far back as she could remember, Mr. Bainery and Maman had always been quite close—more like friends instead of mere colleagues fighting for the good of the Crown. She gave her mother a gentle nudge to step aside and took her place in front of the bound man.
“Why did you try to kill me?” Sophie watched him closely for the slightest tic that might give something away. It wasn’t so muchwhathe might say, buthowhe would say it. “You used to tell me French fairy tales while we ate apples and cheese in the orchard, and yet today, you tried to shoot me.”
“If I had intended to kill you, you would be dead, my lady,” the man growled, looking far older and thinner than Sophie remembered. Of course, it had been some years since last she saw him.
“Why did you fake your death?” Sophie meandered back and forth in front of him, noting that only one of his eyes followed her. The other seemed locked in place, staring straight ahead. When had he developed that malady?
He curled his upper lip into a deeper sneer and remained silent.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Nash drew her off to one side. “You should leave, my swan. Merritt and I cannotencourageMr. Bainery to share what he knows while you and your mother are in the room.”
Sophie looked back at the man lashed to the chair. “Do not hurt him,” she said softly. “He is telling the truth.”
“What truth?” Nash frowned at her, glanced back at Mr. Bainery, then returned his focus to her.
