Her mother smiled and Madeline’s blood turned to ice.
CHAPTER 28
“You will find her,” Henry said firmly, keeping pace beside Wilhelm as they dismounted outside the first inn. “Madeline is careful, but she will not vanish without leaving some sort of trace.”
Wilhelm did not answer at once. His jaw was set so firmly it ached. His eyes were already scanning the street as though she might step out of a doorway if he looked hard enough. Careful was what she had been all her life, and it had not kept her safe.
They moved quickly, methodically, from one establishment to the next. Wilhelm did most of the questioning. His voice was clipped, precise, every word controlled by sheer force of will. Had they seen a young woman traveling alone? Dark hair. Intelligent eyes. Polite, reserved, unmistakably a lady despite her efforts not to be noticed. Each repetition tightened something in his chest, the description sounding more intimate every time he spoke it aloud.
Some shook their heads without hesitation. Others frowned, uncertain, their memories frustratingly vague. A woman like that, perhaps, but it had been yesterday. Or the day before. Or not here at all. Wilhelm’s patience thinned with every answer, the distance between hope and dread shrinking until they were nearly indistinguishable.
“She would not linger,” Henry said quietly as they stepped back onto the street again. “If she believed she was in danger, she would move quickly.”
“I know,” Wilhelm replied, the words sharp with effort. “That is what frightens me.”
They reached the next inn just past midday, smaller than the others and set slightly back from the road. Its sign was weathered enough to suggest it did not see much passing traffic. Wilhelm did not slow as he pushed through the door, Henry close behind him.
The innkeeper looked up sharply, startled by their abrupt entrance.
“I’m looking for a young woman,” Wilhelm said at once, not bothering with courtesy. “She would have arrived alone, likely early this morning. Dark hair. Quiet.”
The innkeeper hesitated, then nodded. “Aye. I remember her. She stayed only for a few hours. Didn’t take a room.”
Something in Wilhelm’s chest convulsed painfully at the confirmation, relief and dread colliding hard enough to make him draw a slow breath through his nose.
“She left this morning?” Henry asked.
“Yes. Not long after dawn.”
Wilhelm’s fingers curled at his side. She had been here long enough to lower her guard, long enough to believe she had gained a few hours of safety.
“Did she take breakfast?” Wilhelm asked, already knowing the answer would not matter and still needing to hear it spoken.
The innkeeper shook her head, her hands twisting in her apron as she glanced from him to Henry and back again. “No, sir. She paid her bill early. Quiet-like. Left not long after dawn.”
Wilhelm felt the words’ sting. He kept his face neutral through long habit, though something tight and feral had begun to coil beneath his skin, a pressure that demanded release. “Was she alone?”
The woman hesitated. “When she left the common room, yes. But—” She glanced toward the doorway as though checking who might be listening. “There was a man outside. Didn’t come in. Just… waited.”
Henry’s gaze sharpened. “Describe him.”
The innkeeper swallowed. “Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed well enough, but not like a gentleman passing through. He was just watching.”
Wilhelm closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. The image rose in his mind, vivid and immediate: Madeline stepping into the grey morning, her cloak drawn close, her head lowered, already carrying the weight of leaving him, believing she had done the right thing. And somewhere nearby, a man watching her with patient intent.
“How long after she left did he follow?” Wilhelm asked.
“I don’t know that he followed,” the innkeeper said carefully. “But the boy saw him walk off the same way she did.”
Wilhelm turned toward the narrow stairs at the back of the inn. “Where is the boy?”
A moment later, a thin, sharp-eyed lad stood before them, cap clutched nervously in his hands. Wilhelm lowered himself into a crouch, forcing the fury in his chest into something the child would not fear.
“You saw a man behind the lady this morning,” Wilhelm said evenly. “Tell me what you saw.”
The boy nodded. “Aye, sir. She went toward the post. Turned down the narrow lane. The man waited a bit, then followed. Didn’t hurry. Like he knew where she was going.”
Wilhelm’s jaw locked.
