As quickly as that thought ended, another hit him. Diana was there, at Lady Dashwood’s, and Tabitha had been arrested. With a loose-lipped driver such as this servant, Diana was not safe at all.
With his heart pumping in an irregular beat, he jumped to his feet. “Gibbs, I must be going. Thank you very much for the talk. It helped me immensely.”
“Is something amiss, milord?”
“I have a terrible feeling…” He paused as panic jolted through him. The love of his life was in danger. He just knew it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tristan rode hishorse hard and fast toward Lady Dashwood’s estate. The closer he came, the more his head filled with clouds and he became lightheaded. He shook his head and blinked, trying to focus better. This didn’t make sense. He’d only had a few sips of his drink, so why was he acting in such a way?
He finally reached the stable, and dismounted. Hurrying toward the structure, the walls seemed to dance in front of him and the ground slanted as if he were walking on a ship.
Tristan stopped and squeezed his eyes closed. What the devil was happening to him? Cotton felt like it was growing in his mouth, but along with it came the stale, bitter taste of the liquor he’d consumed earlier with Gibbs. In all the years Tristan had been drinking, never had he had such a reaction.
What were the odds the rum was laced with some kind of drug that made him feel as if he was floating right out of his body?
Groaning, he fought against his mind trying to come alert—to snap out of this haze he’d been put under. Why had he taken the vile drink in the first place? Now he cursed the spiked rum for making his head swim and his stomach twist. He vowed never to touch liquor again.
He took in a deep breath and moved into the stable. Gradually, his limbs weakened. Finding the strength, he lifted his hands and scrubbed his face, trying to get the blood flowing through him enough to bring him alert. His muscles began to ache and his body felt stiff. Indeed, someone had put some kind of drug in his drink!
He opened his eyes and tried to focus. Darkness surrounded him at first, and then a small amount of light came from the far end of the stables. Slowly he turned his head, but the movement was still too fast and his stomach lurched in protest. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth to keep the contents of his stomach down where it belonged.
In the silence of the room, a horse snorted and shuffled his feet. Once again, Tristan blinked open his eyes and this time things appeared slightly clearer than before, but not much.
Tristan took his time moving toward the light, only because the blasted barn wouldn’t quit spinning around him. Right here and now he made another vow—never to touch the vile drink again!
Mentally, he shook his head, remembering he’d already made that vow a few seconds ago.The vile drink be deuced!He would swear off liquor forever.
He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly hoping to force his mind to be more attentive. He could overpower whatever drug he’d taken since he only had a few sips.
Taking small steps, he continued to move his feet, keeping his hand on the wall as an aide. The light he’d seen earlier had been the back door that was still open, and thankfully the moon was full tonight which helped make the pathway out of the stable brighter.
As he came closer to the stable door, he wondered why it was still open. Usually the stable hands closed it when they put the horses down for the night. He blinked a few more times, but still his eyesight wasn’t as focused as he’d wanted.
Shuffling of footsteps was heard, so he stopped, as did the footsteps. He trained his ears to listen for other sounds, but he couldn’t detect anything unusual.
Just as he took another step, a shadow appeared at the door. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to see better. It hadn’t worked. His vision was still blurred.
“Who goes there?” he asked with a dry throat.
The longer he stared at the shadow, the form finally took shape into a person. A woman, actually. His heart lifted. Was it Diana? He could only pray.
“Who are you?” he asked again as he took another step closer.
All he could tell was that the woman wore a black hooded cloak. Although the hood was over her head, the sides of the cloak were pulled back for him to see her silver and white dress. He couldn’t see her face at all. Yet she seemed too tall to be Diana. So who was this visitor?
“I demand you tell me,” he spoke louder this time.
The woman’s hand moved away from her body and she was holding something long and pointy. The moon hit the steel just enough that it shined.
He sucked in his breath. She held a knife! Hollingsworth and Elliot were stabbed to death. Was Tristan to be next?
He came to halt and flattened himself against the wall to hold himself up. “I demand to know who you are and why you are here.”
“I am here to kill you, my lord.”
The woman’s voice was low, and he didn’t recognize it. Perhaps if he got her to talk to him a little more, he would be able to tell who this person was.
