“A flying scoundrel?”
“No, just one adept at climbing trees.” Though judging by the distance between alders, that wasn’t really a possibility. She pressed two fingers to her temple, rubbing little circles to ward off a headache. “Or it could be someone who knew where to step to avoid leaving a trace from this point on, and they are baiting us, drawing us to this dead end on purpose.”
“Blast!” Henry growled.
She felt the same way, but even so, she tossed back her shoulders. “The game is not over yet. We will return to the tree where we found the fabric and follow the opposite end of this trail. Perhaps that will give us more clues.”
Henry followed Juliet, annoyed that the cad he sought always seemed to be one step beyond his reach … and yet he couldn’t help but also be grateful for the woman’s honesty. It took fortitude to admit she’d lost the trail. Something to be admired.
And he would, if he weren’t so frustrated by this fruitless chase. It was his duty to find the man responsible for putting his sister through such anguish, but thus far he’d turned up no solid evidence against any one person. Not even when he’d tracked down the lad who’d delivered the note the other day had he been satisfied. The boy had claimed he’d been in the market when someone pressed a coin and a folded paper into his hand, whispered quick instructions, and vanished into the crowd before he’d even gotten a proper look. Just a voice, a hand, and then nothing. No face. No clues.
Which was no help at all.
Henry clenched his fists as he tromped through dampened leaves, fury competing with a strong wave of helplessness. How many times had he sworn never to feel this powerless again?
At the sapling where Juliet had first found the fabric, she crouched, her keen eye seeking clues. She was a hound on the hunt, determined despite the fact that he’d basically coerced her into this arrangement. This was not her battle, yet here she was, giving it her all. If only he had met her at another time, in another place, with no dire distractions or societal expectations to keep them apart.
But that was an irrelevant thought here in the thick of night, pursuing a ruthless villain with the woman who’d stolen his game.
Juliet faced him with a grim set to her jaw. “We may not know where the man went, but we can trace these tracks to the part ofthe manor he visited—and I highly suspect it will lead us to your sister’s window.”
A growl ripped out of him. “Heaven help the rogue when I do catch up to him.”
“Yes, I suspect he shall need it.” With a faint smile, she pivoted, carefully picking her way through the trees.
And once again he followed, trusting her instinct yet scanning for any signs she might miss—not that he could see as well as she in the growing dark. Her keen senses continued to astound, truly.
Once they cleared the tree line, she picked up speed. Bedford Manor loomed ahead, black against the coming night. On this back side of the house, no warm light glowed behind the windowpanes, making it appear lifeless. Cold. Empty.
Almost like an omen.
Ten paces from the western wall, Juliet turned left. He stopped her with a touch to her shoulder. “My sister’s chamber is the other way.”
“That may be, but I am following the tracks. They are faint, but deep enough to distinguish where a heel has disturbed the soil.”
He ground his teeth. Hopefully this route wouldn’t end as abruptly as the last one. For now, he had to trust her. But in the morning, by the light of day, he would ask Carver to do his own search of the grounds for anything she might miss.
“Very well.” He dropped his hand. “Lead on.”
She turned back to the task at hand, skirting along the edge of sculpted boxwoods moulded against the manor’s stone wall. Twenty paces more and she stopped, her face lifting, her lips parting, yet no sound came out.
He followed her gaze, and his blood turned to ice. “Do not tell me this is where the trail ends.”
“Very well. I shall not tell you.”
“Then I am right. This is where the man stood, is it not?”
She remained silent, but the dark gleam in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.
For a long moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. That patch of flattened grass sat directly below the window belonging to Juliet’s bedchamber.
And now she was in peril as well.
“It is dark, Henry.” Her voice traveled soft and brave on the night air. “I am a simple poacher, not a man hunter. I could be wrong.”
“I never should have brought you into my world of troubles. Nowyouare in danger.” He flung out his hand.
“I highly doubt that. This is a mind game. Nothing more than to scare me off.”
