“Just shaken. But we need to get her home as quickly as possible.”
The duke nodded. “My carriage awaits. I’ll have one of the grooms find your coachman and tell him you are returning to the house with me.”
A few minutes later, they were climbing into the duke’s black barouche. Sitting beside her, Trevor could still feel his wife trembling, could feel the tension in her body. Without saying a word, he shifted in his seat and cradled her in his arms.
The carriage shade was open. He moved to a spot where the moonlight streaked inside. Meredith’s impassive countenance was bathed in silver, and for an instant he thought he might have mistaken her fear.
Then, with a small cry of distress, she turned her face into his chest and tightened her arms around his neck. A lump formed in his throat. Her complete trust was humbling, as if she believed there was no one in the world more capable of protecting her than he.
The duke signaled his driver, and the coach lurched forward. Trevor gathered Meredith closer, and as they traveled the darkened streets he tried his hardest to make her feel safe and secure.
An hour later Meredith was seated in an overstuffed chair in her bedchamber with a glass of brandy in her hand. Though she was trying valiantly to stay calm, she could feel the edges of panic gripping at her composure.
“I am starting to feel better.” Meredith smiled wanly at her husband as he paced back and forth. “Truly.”
“Drink.” He tipped the edge of her glass and forced her to take a large swallow. “Better, my arse. Your face is pale as a ghost and you’re still trembling all over.”
Meredith wet her lips. She wanted nothing more than to shout a denial, but her teeth were chattering too hard. It all seemed so ridiculous, but now that it was over, she felt even more frightened, more at a loss to control her body and emotions.
“I fear I might have lost one of the diamonds from my necklace.” With a shaking hand, she held it up for Trevor to inspect.
“Will you forget about the damned necklace?” He snatched it out of her hands and flung it onto a nearby table. “It does not matter.”
Meredith blinked. She would not cry. She would not show weakness. She would remain calm and coherent, for she had something important to tell her husband about this horrible incident tonight. Given his current state of agitation, she suspected he would not be pleased.
“Those are not my personal property, they are family jewels,” Meredith said softly. She met Trevor’s eyes. “If I have damaged the piece, I want to fix it. ’Tis my responsibility.”
The marquess knelt in front of her. He stretched out a hand and lifted a fallen lock of hair back from her face. She could see he was struggling to stay calm. “Since it appears to be so damned important to you, I will make certain the jeweler examines the necklace. If it needs to be repaired, I will instruct him to do so immediately.”
“Will you send me the bill?”
“Meredith.” He tightened the hold he had on her wrist.
She burst into a nervous giggle. The strain on his temper was showing. Best not to push it past the breaking point. “Thank you, Trevor.”
“I need you to tell me everything you remember about what happened at the theater,” the marquess said.
Meredith settled back in her chair and took a small sip of her drink. “I’ll try, but it all happened so fast. There was the crush of the crowd, that surge that seemed to carry me off my feet. I felt someone bump into me, jostle me from behind. I was so worried about staying on my feet, so frightened that if I fell I would be trampled that I hardly noticed who had shoved me. But it happened again. And then a third time.
“That final impact drove me to my knees. I remember trying to catch myself, but there was nothing steady to grab. It was all a mass of tangled limbs. That’s when I felt the hands.”
“Hands? You mean my hands, hauling you upright?”
“No.” She lowered, then raised her chin. “The hands around my neck.”
The marquess leaned closer and for the first time noticed the marks. There were bruises around her throat, deep red marks that were beginning to darken. His face paled as his fists curled in anger.
“Were they the hands of a man?”
“I believe so. I opened my lips to scream, but discovered I did not have the breath to make a sound.” Meredith shuddered. “Though I know you do not wish to hear it, I am sure he was trying to take my necklace,” she said defensively. “And he nearly succeeded.”
The marquess sat back on his haunches. “Was there anything else? Anything that happened before this incident?”
She squirmed in her seat. Finally she whispered, “The stares and scrutiny.”
“What?”
How could she possibly explain something she did not fully understand, something she secretly feared was a part of her imagination? Yet a voice deep inside her head urged her to try.
