“Goodness,” Lady Kimpton said. “I feel as if I’ve gorged myself and only a short nap will do.” Her laugh fell short.
Proper Lady Irene nodded, smiling.
Sarah’s gaze cut to Mrs. Wells. She was suddenly frightened by the scene. “Might I hold Nathan for you, Mrs. Wells? Just for a moment whilst you enjoy your own tea?”
“Aye, Miss Elvins. I’d much appreciate it. The little scamp grows heavier by the day.”
Sarah jumped up and took the baby from Mrs. Wells. “He’s right sweet, isn’t he?” No one answered. Sarah walked the length of the terrace, the baby’s head on her shoulder. The hush over the garden was eerie. No maids rushed out to assist. Had she killed them all? She turned back to the group. Lady Irene’s head lay on her crossed arms on the table.
“I don’t understand.” Lady Kimpton’s words were slurred. “Why is everyone so tired?”
Sarah was stunned. The contents of the brown bottle were working. Each person’s head was either back against her chair or face down on the table. Lord Maudsley had said they would sleep.
Sarah wanted to turn back the clock. It was too late. Too late to change her plans, her fate. She darted to the gate at the back of the garden. There was nothing she wanted from anyone, anywhere. Only her fifteen pounds. She would hand Nathan to Maudsley’s man, take her money, and run, as far as her new fortune would carry her.
“Miss… Miss… Sarah…” Lady Kimpton’s whispers shattered her heart into a million pieces.
It was too late.Too late. Too late.She ran for the gate. What if the man wasn’t there? What would she do? She didn’t have the resolve to sell Nathan. She would leave him on the ground. When they woke, they would find him. Yes. That’s what she would do. If the man wasn’t there.Please don’t be there.
Nathan whimpered in her arms. “No. Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” she soothed. It came out more as a command. A burst of hysteria roared through her chest.As if one could command a tiny baby not to cry.Tears burned her throat in a bout of irony. She swallowed them back as the gate came into sight. Her fingers fumbled with the latch, but it swung open, and a man with a stubbled chin stood over her. She backed away.
“Bring the child.” Maudsley’s voice barked the order from the coach.
Sarah edged around the hulking brute, and Maudsley reached through the window, scooping Nathan from her arms. “Bring the others.”
Both the brute and another man she recognized from Maudsley’s household carried coverlets and disappeared into the garden. Terror swallowed her.Miss Hollerfield never made it to the picnic.Maudsley would kill her once he realized. The need for her small fortune ceased. Sarah swung around. They were back, each carting a victim. Irene’s small body was obvious, but who was the other? What did it matter now?
If she didn’t ask for the money, he would know something was wrong. She couldn’t get in the carriage. She’d never make it out alive.
The carriage rocked with their ascent. Sarah stood by, unable to move, horrified by the event, speechless. One of the men clamored atop, took up the reins, and snapped them. The horses started forward, and Sarah stared after the moving conveyance.
Maudsley leaned out the window and pitched out a small bag that landed at her feet. The chink of coins echoed against the garden walls. “For your trouble, Miss Elvins.” The carriage turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
In a fog she reached for the bag, then slowly stood. Her walk to the corner was sluggish; dead weight lay where her heart once belonged. Free. She was free. She blinked away the fog and took in her surroundings.
A man leaned against a tree, ankles crossed, burning cheroot dangling from his lips. He was attractive, much more attractive than Maudsley, but dread shot down her limbs, rendering her momentarily immobile. “Good day, Miss Elvins.” His voice was deep and reassuring, his hair shiny and clean.
Goose pimples pricked her skin. She backed away, but he was quick. He snatched her arm in a bruising grip. “My fifteen pounds,” she whispered. “Please, take it. Take it all.” Terror gripped her knees, and they buckled beneath her.
He laughed as if genuinely delighted. “I will indeed,” he said.
He watched her with the warmth of a reptile, but what she saw in his eyes chilled her to her depths. Her life was over. But hadn’t she already realized the same? He crushed his mouth over hers.
The sun settled into dusk. Thorne looked across Brock’s desk. “So all is finally in order now?”
“Yes,” Brock said. “The bulk of my funds, under your direction, is for Ginny and her daughters should the bastard get lucky. But, by God, Kimpton, if she ends up in his hands again, I’ll haunt you to your own grave.”
“You have my word. If you don’t kill him, then I shall. Does that help?”
“Indeed.”
Thorne frowned. “I would have sworn Lorelei could not resist my taunt and would have responded.”
“Perhaps she hasn’t read your message. There was a picnic today, you said.”
Thorne looked out at the darkening sky. “I think perhaps I shall swing home. I’ll meet up with you at the solicitor’s office for any final details.”
Brock straightened the stack of papers and slid them into a carrying brief. “Fine. And that will be the last of it.”
