Or where their bodies might be stored/hidden.
Bile rose up her throat, choking her. She forced away the panic. “Let’s consider this logically. We’re agreed Abercairn has them?”
“Lady Dunkeld.” Summerset gripped her elbow. “Winnifred. Go upstairs.”
She jerked free. “Why? Because a woman couldn’t be of any assistance in this situation?”
“No, because your husband will murder me if any harm comes to you.”
Her temples throbbed, and she rubbed them with her fingers. “Let’s worry about that when we find him.” She wouldn’t contemplate the alternative. That they might not find him, at least not alive.
She dug her nails into her palm. “Are we agreed we focus on Lord Abercairn?”
Summerset’s gaze on her was long, too long for the urgency of the situation, but at the end of his assessment, he nodded. “We’re agreed.”
She paced to the cold fireplace and strode back. “And he must have had assistance to subdue Sin and Sutton?”
“Absolutely.”
She made the march to and fro again. “Abercairn would need to hide their … their bodies until he had taken his leave of Kenmore. He wouldn’t want to be stuck here for any investigation.”
Summerset took his candle from her and lit another. “I’m disappointed. For such an analytical mind, you’ve not considered all the options.”
His sneery tone made her skin flush with anger. A feeling much more pleasant than the desperation that jockeyed to claim her in its grip. Which was probably his intent. Even knowing that, Winnifred couldn’t keep the pique from her voice. “What’s that?”
“That Abercairn would want the information your husband and Sutton hold, as much as we wanted his intelligence.” Summerset prowled into the hallway. “He’ll keep him alive. At least until he gets the answers he wants.”
Winnifred hurried after him. “Until then?” They stopped at a door that led outside.
“Until then we search.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ll follow what tracks I can. Rouse the servants. Tell them their master has gone missing. We’ll need every set of eyes we can get.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The household was in an uproar. Trousers were pulled on beneath banyans. Maids in their wrappers hurriedly lit every lamp and candle in Kenmore. Guests gathered in confused huddles outside their bedroom doors.
Deirdre held a tight grip on Winnifred’s hand as she and Tavish organized a search party.
Winnifred stared at the door to Abercairn’s bedchambers. The earl stood in front of it, his arm around his wife, looking as sleepy as everyone else.
Winnifred didn’t believe it. Was Sin even now hidden in that room? Injured? Unable to call for help?
“I want a count of every guest and servant in the castle,” she interrupted her mother-in-law. Someone had to be standing guard over her husband and Sutton. “If anyone is missing, I want to know.” She stared at Abercairn as she said it, but he didn’t flinch. Merely gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Aren’t we searching for your missing husband?” Lady Abercairn asked. “Just how many people do you think have disappeared?”
“Aren’t two missing men enough?” Winnifred stepped toward the woman, her fingers curled into claws, but Deirdre pulled her back.
“Your husband and his friend are probably stumbling around outside in a drunken revel.” Lady Abercairn pulled her wrapper tighter about her. “I don’t see why we have to indulge your delusions at the expense of our sleep. Dr Masson, can’t you do something?”
A chill started in Winnifred’s stomach, expanding like ice over a pond, until her whole body shook from the cold. So many looks of concern. Of pity and suspicion. All directed at her. The walls tilted closer, and her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Was this how her mother had felt? In the moments when she’d been rational but everyone treated her as though still mad?
She should sit with Deirdre, wait for Tavish to conduct his search. Wait for news of Sin. It was the logical response, the one a marchioness would take. One more pair of eyes wouldn’t be of any great benefit in the search, and she’d be safe from censure.
She stiffened. With Sin as her husband, the censure of others didn’t matter. No matter how far outside the bounds of society she danced, he would protect her.
And if your husband is dead? Who keeps you from Bedlam then?
“Those of ye who wish to join the search,” Deirdre called out, “yer aid will be most appreciated. The rest of ye, go back to bed. There’s no use in everyone losing sleep.” She patted Winnifred’s hand. “Come along, daughter. We’ll help cook brew coffee for the men who are searching.”
