While Bonham ran off to check the other houses, Gideon strode into Berry’s garden and looked for fresh footprints in the soil. It worried him when he found several. But they were smudged, so he could not tell if they were made by one man or two.
Hawthorne and an accomplice?
He slowly climbed the trellis and found a bit of cloth caught on an edge at one of the spots where the trellis connected to the masonry. It was only a tiny shred, so he could not tell if the color was a dark blue or a black.
Berry was good with colors and might be able to tell him.
When he reached her window, he rapped lightly against the pane to alert her that he was there.
Not that he expected her to forget and begin to disrobe. Ah, his eyeballs would never recover from the sight of her shedding her nightclothes.
Well, she wasn’t undressing. He ought to have known better than to allow his thoughts to drift in that direction. But to his concern, he could not see her in the bedchamber.
Had she stepped out?
He returned his attention to the possible intruder and saw scratches and chipped wood along the window latch.
Dear heaven.
That toad really had tried to abduct Berry. Or perhaps he merely thought to break into her bedchamber and impose himself on her.
Gideon cursed himself for a fool. While he had been off having unmentionable dreams about Berry, Hawthorne had actually been trying to grab and defile her.
He glanced up at the heavens, thankful that Hawthorne had failed. What would he try next?
The Bow Street Runners would soon be on the trail of that wastrel lord, perhaps starting tomorrow. In the meanwhile, Gideon was not going to leave her side.
A sharp rap on the window startled him out of his thoughts and almost had him tumbling off the trellis.
Berry’s lovely face stared back at him.
Big eyes. Big smile.
She opened the window. “What have you found?”
“Someone tried to break your window latch.”
“Oh dear. Did you find anything more?”
He nodded.
She reached out to take him by the arms. “Climb inside and tell me.”
He laughed. “That’s going to raise eyebrows. A man seen climbing into your bedchamber?”
“I did not mean it that way. Isn’t it safer than climbing down that flimsy trellis?”
“No,” he said with a groaning laugh, for he was going to kiss her if she did not move her face away from his. “Get dressed and come downstairs. I’ll meet you in your parlor.”
“All right. Watch your fingers. I’m going to lower the window.”
She did not bother to dress, and instead came scurrying down the stairs just as Melton let him back in. Her robe was held in place by a belt hastily tied around her trim waist, and none of the buttons were done up. Her hair remained long and loose, a bit of a wild mess that he thought looked exquisite on her.
“Well? What have you to report?” she asked.
“Melton, summon Mrs. Bolton and join us. You both need to hear this.”
“At once, Mr. Knight.”
