Bella snapped about, her hand whipping to the back of her head for her missing pin. Her fingers fumbled in its absence.Without Bella’s hands for support, Eliza’s legs forsook her, and she dropped to the stone beneath her.
“Miss Wayland, I’ve heard so much about you,” the man said.
Something about his words made Eliza’s breath catch. When the next came, they were slow and thick.
“And Lady Arabella, it’s been quite some time.”
Eliza’s vision darkened around the edges, tiny speckles creeping in. She urged her legs to cooperate, to stand, but they merely flopped forward uselessly. Her knees bent against her will, the stone balcony tilting sideways beneath her.
It began to dawn on her sluggish mind that her cordial had been laced with something, and that she needed to move, needed to help Bella, but her limbs refused to cooperate.
A scream tried to escape the other woman’s chest, but the man slammed his palm over her mouth.
Eliza’s attempt was more pathetic, a nearly inaudible whine.
The man cursed and yanked his hand from Bella’s mouth, clutching at it. Before she could release a cry, he backhanded her. The lady went flying, her head hitting the stone with a sickeningthunk. A red pool bloomed beneath her hair.
Panic welled up within Eliza even as the cordial worked its way through her system. She scrambled back, managing only a few scraping shuffles.
A pair of hands caught her from behind, one arm banding about her chest, the other her neck. She gasped, a final attempt at a scream, but before it could escape, the man applied pressure to her trachea and the sound died in her throat.
Quickly, darkness overtook her vision, and then faded into nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Benedict pacedthe length of Wayland’s office, fists clenching and unclenching with every step. “You broke me.” Eliza’s words played in an unceasing loop through his head—the agony in her eyes and voice haunting him.
The door slammed open, clanging against the wall. West seized him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.
“Christ above, what were you thinking?”
“I’ve already been lectured by her sister. I do not require another.” Benedict shoved West’s hand away.
“How unfortunate for you,” West snapped. “Are you still fixed on ruining that girl?”
“Of course not!”
“You’ve an odd way of showing it. And tonight of all nights!”
“I know I was wrong.”
“You’ve jeopardized everything. You’re done. Go home and wait for news.”
Benedict’s stomach coiled. “I cannot leave her.”
“You can’t be trusted to stay either.”
“I’ll stay out of sight. I won’t approach again—just?—”
“There’s naught for it. This is too bloody important.”
“West—”
“No, you’d best keep away. I?—”
A petrified screech breached the door.
For the space of a singular heartbeat, Benedict and West froze. Then Benedict lunged, shoving past him, and ripping the door open. The music cut off, severed at knifepoint. They stumbled down the stairs, frantically casting about for a flash of violet silk.
