"It was amusing. Especially since he failed to perform. According to the old hag, his little soldier wouldn't stand to attention."
Was this humiliating episode the seed of Coyner's sickness? Or had his peers' abuses merely shaped an existing perversion? Marianne's insides wrenched with fear for Primrose.
"Were Boyer and Ashcroft part of your pack?" she asked.
"How did you know?"
"Call it a good guess." Marianne exchanged grim glances with Ambrose. Pieces were falling into place. "Is there anything else you can tell us?" she pressed. "If Coyner kidnapped a child, where would he take her?"
"How the devil am I supposed to know? As I've said, he's no friend of mine." Bristling, Pendleton drew himself up. "I've told you what you wanted to know—I trust I can rely on your discretion."
It took everything Marianne had not to spit at the blighter. At this point, it'd do no good.
"If you'll excuse me then, I have guests to see to." His composure regained, the earl exited the room with his nose held high—though, perhaps, not as high as before.
Harteford spoke first. "Pendleton's a sick bugger. But he gave us useful information."
"We have a motive for why Coyner framed the others," Ambrose said, his eyes narrowed, "and why he led Marianne here. He planned to kill her and make it look like a hunting accident on Pendleton's property."
"We must find Coyner straightaway," Helena said with a shudder.
"Let us leave for London immediately," Ambrose said.
"You cannot travel in your condition." Looking at her lover, Marianne bit her lip. "You have done too much for me already. I cannot allow you to compromise your health further."
"I'm fine," he said stubbornly. "There's no time to waste—"
"Marianne is right," Helena chimed in. "You cannot be moved, Mr. Kent, at least for a few days. Harteford, you'll take Marianne back to London and begin the search, won't you?"
"What about you, love?" the marquess said, frowning.
"I shall keep Mr. Kent and his family company until he is ready to make the journey back. And I will ensure that Pendleton continues to extend his hospitality to us all."
"I am ready to leave—"
Marianne quieted Ambrose's protest with a finger to his lips. Looking into his mutinous eyes, she murmured, "Please, do this for me. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, my darling."
He stilled at her words, his breaths turning shallow. In that silent exchange, she willed him to know what was in her heart—even if she couldn't yet say it aloud. She flashed to her bargain with Black, and her insides constricted. The future lay so uncertain before her… she must focus first on Rosie and deal with all else later. In the interim, she would not make promises to Ambrose that she could not keep. 'Twas the least she could do... for the man she loved.
To Helena, she said softly, "You'll take good care of him?"
"Of course," her friend said with a smile.
As Harteford put his arms around his wife, murmuring his goodbyes, Marianne bent toward Ambrose.
"I'll miss you," she said tremulously.
"And I you,selkie. Don't do anything reckless, you hear?" Though his tone was stern, his eyes were warm. "I'll come as soon as I'm able."
His good hand closed on her nape, pulling her down for a kiss. The contact of their lips was searing and filled with a sustaining sweetness. For those few moments, she basked in his strength, knowing she would need it to see her through the days ahead.
38
Marianne pacedthe length of her drawing room, waiting for Harteford's arrival. He'd dropped her off at her townhouse the night before, promising to return in the morning with news. Seeing the carriage pull up, she raced into the foyer. Lugo opened the door, and the marquess entered, looking more severe than usual.
"Have you any news from the magistrates?" Marianne said. "Where is Coyner?"
"No one's seen hide or hair of Coyner," Harteford said. "He hasn't gone into the Bow Street office. The magistrates interviewed the servants at his home. They say they last saw him two days ago, when he showed up briefly and left again without a word."
