“Drowned. In the Crabtrees’ fountain. No one is certain whether or not it was foul play.”
Justin had been there last night. Kensington had been deep in his cups. Justin’s attention had been focused mostly upon Rhoda. He’d had to make it appear as though he had not been, however, what with her mother’s disapproval and other… rather important matters.
Rhoda had left the ball early with Mrs. Mossant. He’d not seen them depart but Lady Crabtree had informed him when he’d become worried.
The last he’d seen her, she’d been heading for the terrace.
She’d been alone, and Justin had intended to follow her but been caught up by the mother of one of the heiresses. By the time he’d rid himself of her fawning, he’d lost her.
Rhoda had not been on the terrace. He’d assumed she’d returned inside and was lost in the crush.
He suppressed a shiver at the thought that she’d been alone in the garden.
It would not be the first time she’d had to fend the desperate earl off.
“When was he discovered?” Justin intentionally made himself sound only mildly interested.
He dismissed any foreboding the news brought with it. Kensington had made more than his fair share of enemies.
“A gardener came across him just after dawn.” Nottingham stared into the bottom of his glass. “Face down in the water.”
“No bruises? Or injury?”
“A bump on the head,” Dev answered this time. “And Justin…” Oh, hell. Dev’s voice contained a warning of sorts. “The last person he was seen with was Miss Mossant.”
It was as though all the air in his lungs was sucked out in the fraction of a second. Justin met Dev’s gaze, both of them remembering the revelation she’d made at Eden’s Court.
“Sophia is readying to leave, as is Lady Blakely and Mrs. Nottingham. She’ll need her friends.”
He could not wait. He had to go to her.
Now.
Even if she’d done nothing to merit suspicion, she would need his support.
And if the opposite were true, she’d need him even more. “If you’ll pardon me.” Justin dashed out the door without another word. He hardly even noticed the startled glance from Mr. Evans when he ran through the foyer to the entrance and flew out the door.
What happened? Had Kensington succeeded in harming her this time? It had been the last ball of the Season; he would have been desperate.
And Rhoda was not completely vulnerable. She would have fought.
It took a moment for him to orient himself as to her residence. He’d not have a mount readied. He could move much faster on foot.
The notion that another tragedy might be too much for her to cope with terrified him.
Why hadn’t he moved more quickly?
He jumped across a pile of steaming manure. Even Mayfair couldn’t avoid some aspects of daily living. Dodging women carrying parasols and gentlemen clipping along with their canes, all Justin could think about was getting to her.
She’d looked more beautiful than ever last night. He’d wanted to talk with her, dance with her, hold her in his arms… but he had been forced to console himself with the knowledge that he’d have her alone in a carriage the following afternoon. They’d elope and return just before the Season officially ended. Just before all of Mayfair exited the city in pursuit of the cleaner air they’d enjoy at their various country estates.
He brought himself up short at her doorstep, breathing heavily, and pounded on the door.
The butler took his card and asked him to wait.
What if she wouldn’t see him? What if she sent him away?
“Right this way, my lord.” The butler’s announcement jolted him from his concerns.
