Sally released a panicked squeal and darted inside the house. Tabitha continued toward the spot where she’d heard the sound. The closer she came, the more her legs trembled. Yet, if someone were hiding—and listening—wouldn’t they be trying to get away right now? The hedges remained unruffled and there were no other sounds. She stopped inches away from the greenery and peered as hard as she could through the darkness, but couldn’t see anything.
Perhaps she’d been wrong. After all, it could have been a small animal. So then why did it sound like a man’s gasp?
Shaking her head, she turned away and hurried back inside the house. Her imagination was playing tricks on her again. Why would anyone be this far away from the town without making their presence known? It definitely wasn’t Mr. Coggins because he had traveled in the opposite direction.
She settled her panic and convinced herself it had indeed been a small animal. As she entered, she closed the door behind her. “Not to worry, Sally. I think it was a rodent.”
“Are you sure?” Sally’s voice came from the kitchen.
“I saw nobody trying to run, and I couldn’t detect anyone still hiding. So yes, I’m certain it was a rodent.”
Sally slowly exited the kitchen, running her fingers through her hair. “That relieves me greatly.”
“Forgive me for frightening you.”
“There is nothing to forgive. We all need to be very cautious. At least until Lord Elliot’s murderer is caught.”
“I agree.” Tabitha rubbed her hands together. “Now, let’s forget all of this nonsense and fix us something for dinner. I’m famished.”
As she made her way into the kitchen, unease grew inside of her. Something wasn’t right, and she couldn’t shake away the feeling. From time to time throughout her life, she’d experienced these kinds of feelings. More often than not, she was right and horrible things had occurred. Now, the apprehension growing in her gut hinted of a danger that lurked in the future. One she could not control.
*
Tristan paced thefloor in his study so much that he feared the rugs needed to be replaced. And to think he still had to wait three more days. How could he do it? Even now, the wait was killing him.
Since his return from the cottage after being kidnapped, he’d ridden his stallion by Diana’s estate every day, but never saw her sitting by a window or outside. However, eavesdropping on his servants proved informative. That was how he’d heard about Diana’s dinner party with close friends last night. And this morning, the servants had mentioned how they’d seen several trunks loaded on Diana’s carriage.
Although he wanted to go to her now, there were still things he must do to ready his family and friends for histraveling abroadstory. He must let his mother know so she wouldn’t worry, and for certain he needed to let his brothers and Hawthorne know so they would not panic. Tristan would only tell his older brother, Trevor, the truth just in case the magistrate wanted to arrest him.
Deciding not to put this off a minute longer, he snatched his coat jacket off the back of a chair and left the study. “Gentry,” he called out as he marched down the hall.
“Yes, my lord.” The servant rushed out of one of the rooms.
“Please have my horse ready to ride quickly.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Gentry hurried down the hall as fast as his boney legs could carry him. He reached the front door and opened it, but came to a halt. Standing with his fist raised to knock was Dominic Lawrence.
“Hawthorne,” Tristan called and motioned his friend to enter. “What brings you to my door this morning?”
Dominic walked in, but he wasn’t wearing his usual cheerful smile. Instead, worry laced his eyes and frown.
“Worthington, I need to speak to you in private.”
“Certainly. Let’s adjourn to my study.”
As they walked to the study, Tristan noticed something else different about his friend. The dark circles under Nic’s eyes, wrinkled clothes, and his unkempt appearance reminded Tristan of howheused to look after returning from a late night of drinking. Although—Tristan took a deep sniff—Nic didn’t smell strongly of spirits at all.
Once they reached the study and Tristan closed the door behind them, it was Nic’s turn to pace the floor with his hands clutched behind, resting on his lower back. His expression was unreadable, but Tristan could see there was much turmoil weighing on his friend’s mind.
Tristan walked to his chair and sat. “I’m assuming you have heard bad news.”
Nic stopped and faced him with wide eyes. “How do you know?”
Tristan wanted to chuckle, but refrained. “Because of the way you are acting.”
Hawthorne nodded. “What I have to say is not good at all.”
