“What the hell are you about, Quince?” Thorne barked.
Lorelei winced. “Um. Please don’t mind my husband, Quince.” She frowned at her husband, hurrying forward. “Whomever are you holding, sir?”
“I believe it’s Miss Elvins, my lady.”
Lorelei’s face paled. “Is she d-dead?”
“She’s alive,” Quince said. His glance shot to Thorne, and fire crawled up his neck. “Sir, what shall I do with her?”
Thorne was stuck. He couldn’t possibly move.
“Take her to the morning room, Quince.”
Lorelei guided the man from the library, giving Thorne the opportunity to pull himself together, as Mrs. Metzger’s voice filled the hall. “I’ve a room readying, my lady.”
Groaning, Thorne pulled on his breeches and fastened the flap and quickly donned his waistcoat, then followed the voices to the morning room. “Set her down,” Lorelei was saying as Thorne walked in.
Quince laid the girl on the divan.
Thorne peered at the unconscious girl, noting the protruding lump near her temple. It did indeed appear to be Miss Elvins. “I thought the chit was on her way back to London. What happened to her?”
“Mrs. Metzger thought the same,” Quince said. “I found her slumped against the gate.”
“Good heavens,” Lorelei said faintly.
Mrs. Metzger appeared in the arch. “The green room is available, my lady.”
The unthinkable assembled then reshuffled through Thorne’s muddled brain. He did not believe in coincidences. This, coupled with Rowena’s death, was too convenient to be random. “We should wake her,” he said. “It’s possible she was attacked by the same villain who did in Rowena Hollerfield.”
“Thorne. This girl is in no condition to be interrogated,” Lorelei spoke sharply. “Whatever you may think of her, she is still practically a child.”
It was difficult to argue that fact. Her hair had tumbled free from its confinement into a torrent of dark-red curls. Her closed eyes veiled the cynicism he’d witnessed on the carriage ride to Kimpton. Combined with her now lax features, Thorne could almost believe her younger than Corinne Hollerfield.
He’d lost any sympathy he felt compelled to share upon learning that saidchildhad threatened to sell Maudsley’s daughters, one of whom was not yet in the schoolroom.
“Send for tea, Lorelei. I have questions, and I mean to have them answered.” She flinched at his tone. “Please,” he added, forcing a gentleness he didn’t feel.
Lips compressed, Lorelei slipped from the room.
Thorne leaned over, studying the girl. “Are you sure she’s alive?”
“Reasonably sure,” Quince said. “She’s groaned a couple of times, and that lump on her noggin is the size of a plum.”
Thorne kneeled down and tapped her cheek. “Miss Elvins?” He spoke softly.
She groaned and tried shifting from his hand.
“Miss Elvins, open your eyes.”
A moment later they fluttered, then settled on him. “Where am I?” she whispered.
“You are in Kimpton, Miss Elvins. You accompanied the Ladies Irene and Cecilia. We arrived earlier today. Do you recall?”
“Kimpton?” Her confusion was not feigned.
“You work for the Maudsleys.”
Fear replaced her confusion, and she started to move. “I-I think I’m going to be—”
