Justin shook his head, feeling guilty over how much anxiety he had caused his friend. Dueling was, after all, illegal and ifBranford had died from his wound, the two of them would have been very serious trouble.
“No, thank heavens,” he answered. “It appears the earl will recover.”
“Aye, thank heavens,” echoed Hartley as he knotted his cravat and expelled a sigh of relief. “In that case, there’s no need to be blue-deviled. Come, we’ll stop by the club, then there’s going to be a phaeton race in Hyde Park between Endicott and Marshall which promises to be entertaining. And of course, we’ll put in an appearance at the Creighton’s soiree.”
Justin nodded and finished dressing. Perhaps Freddy was right, he told himself, and it was best to keep occupied. And yet, he couldn’t seem to banish his low spirits.
As the two of them headed for the street, an attendant approached.
“Excuse me, Mr. Chilton. A man left this for you.” The fellow held up a sealed note. “He said I was to give it to you when you was leaving.”
Justin broke the wafer and quickly ran his eyes over the contents.
“Freddy, you must excuse me,” he said as he fumbled in his pocket and pressed a coin in the attendant’s outstretched hand.
“Is something —” began Hartley, but Justin had already disappeared out the door.
Once out on the street, Justin set off in a blind rush, fear twisting in his gut, making it impossible to think straight. All he could see in his mind’s eye were the terrible words scrawled on the paper …
If you wish to see your sister alive again, be at the crossroads two miles east of the village of Weston at the hour of 6 tonight. Come alone, or else.
Steady, steady—he sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to get a grip on his emotions. Panic would only play into the hands of his unknown enemy.
It appeared that Alex had been right after all. He should have taken her warnings more seriously. But it had been more convenient to dismiss them as the exaggerated worries of an overprotective older sister … even though a part of him had known that it was highly improbable the string of accidents had been mere coincidences. However, it had seemed absurd that someone would be trying to harm him.
After all, what possible threat was he to anyone?
It made no sense—and try as he might, Justin couldn’t think of any plausible explanation. Even now, with Alex trapped in a deadly web of intrigue, he had no idea of how to begin unraveling the mystery.
But the one thing he did know for sure was that he wouldn’t ride meekly to his appointed doom. Alex would be furious with him if he were to be so corkbrained as to fall into such an obvious trap without trying to figure out a way to best their shadowy nemesis.
But how?
Justin came to an abrupt halt. Ye gods, the first step was to make sure it wasn’t a ruse, and that he didn’t run off willy-nilly without ascertaining that Alex was in fact gone.
After flagging down a passing hansom, he arrived at Half Moon Street in short order and took a moment to assume an air of nonchalance before entering the library.
“Aunt Aurelia, have you perchance seen Alex?”
His aunt looked up from her book. “No. Givens mentioned that she left here earlier this morning, but she hasn’t yet returned.” A note of concern had crept int her in her voice. “He said that she received a missive from Mr. Simpson inviting her toview some newly arrived plants—but it appeared to him that she was acting a bit strangely.”
Lady Beckworth removed her spectacles, her eyes clouding with worry. “Something has been quite wrong lately—do you know what has Alex so upset?”
Justin drew in a measured breath. “I have an inkling what it is.”
She blinked back tears. “Is … is everything going to be alright?”
Justin quickly moved around to give her a quick hug. “You may count on it,” he promised, refusing to believe otherwise. “Don’t worry—we’ll both be home soon.”
However, his show of bravado began to waver as he left the townhouse and considered his options …
Think! Think!Alex was clever—what would she do?
Justin was forced to concede that he had no idea of how to start searching for the identity of his enemy or where he might be holding Alex captive …
Which did not auger well for a happy ending, he thought to himself with a grimace. He had no illusions as to the intentions of the note’s author—or his willingness to carry out his threat. The dastard was planning to kill Alex, and the meeting tonight was nothing more than a lure to reel him in to his death as well.
But as Alex was the lure, he had no choice but to rise to the bait.
