“That might not be a reason to panic.” Ever the cool voice of reason, Weston held up his hands. “She could be anywhere. In the parlor or the drawing room or the stables. Maybe even the pond, as Evie said she was taking Posy on a walk.”
Kincaid stepped forward. “Then we’ll split up and search both the inside of the manor and the grounds, then meet in the main entryway when we are done. I’ll make sure the other guests are secluded in one area so that we are able to keep track of everyone.”
“My valet is already doing that,” said Sterling.
“Good.” All business, the private detective gave a curt nod. “That’s a start.”
It was a start…but not an ending as their search revealed no sign of Rosemary anywhere. With every minute that ticked by, Sterling became more and more agitated. He was crawling inside his own skin with no way out and no way to find the woman that meanteverythingto him.
Rosemary was the very air that he breathed.
And he was already starting to suffocate.
They’d gathered back in the foyer. Kincaid had sent a footman to find the guest list, a small, leather-bound journal every person had been asked to sign upon entering the manor. It was to be a memento of a remarkable day. A special keepsake to look back on with fondness during the anniversaries that would follow.
When the servant returned with it, Sterling yanked the book out of his hands and began to flip through the pages with such force that several tore completely in half and fluttered to the ground.
Beside him, Evie and Joanna exchanged a worried look.
“Maybe we should–” Evie began, but he silenced her with a fierce glare.
“I need to concentrate,” he snarled. “The bastard who took Rosemary is in here. I know they are. They have to be.”
Another significant glance, and the American sisters wisely retreated to where their husbands stood guard in front of the door lest someone enter with news of Rosemary’s whereabouts…or anyone attempted to leave. Lachlan, Brynne, Sarah, and Lord Hamlin (the only other people in attendance that Sterling trusted unequivocally) were blocking similar entrances across the rest of the manor. Everyone else had been sequestered in the grand ballroom where they remained under the careful watch of Higgins, Mrs. Thorncroft, Claire, and Lady Ellinwood, the latter of whom had already threatened to beat anyone that dared try to leave with her cane.
“What do you think?” Evie whispered to Weston.
“I think if your cousin has been kidnapped, the perpetrator wasn’t foolish enough to write their name down,” he replied in an equally subdued tone.
“Maybe,” said Kincaid. “Maybe not. If this is the end, they might want Sterling to find out who they are. Especially if that knowledge will make him suffer all the more.”
Joanna paled. “The end?” she said, grabbing his arm. “What do you mean, theend?”
“The end to the game they’ve been playing,” he said grimly.
“I know who did this. I know who took her.” Sterling drilled his finger into a name on the very last page. It was written sloppily and misspelled, an indication that it was written by whatever servant had been placed in charge of collecting signatures and not the actual person themself.
“Who?” Joanna and Evie asked in unison.
“Lord Aston and his wife.” He waved the guest book in the air. “Were they invited?”
“The Marquess of Aston?” Weston’s brow furrowed. “No, not that I recall. Evie?”
“Lord Aston? The same one you told me was responsible for…” Evie’s gaze darted to Sterling, then lowered. “No. I wouldn’t. Ididn’t. He should not be here.”
“What do you think?” Sterling demanded of Kincaid.
“I cannot speculate as to his motivation, but the shared history is there. Your brother, the duel, and all the aftermath that followed. If he wasn’t invited for the wedding, then he has no conceivable reason to be at Hawkridge…”
“Other than to harm me by hurting the woman that I love,” Sterling finished harshly.
“If Lord Aston has taken Rosemary, then where has he taken her?” Joanna asked, speaking aloud the question that no one seemed capable of answering.
“All of the horses and carriages are accounted for,” Weston supplied. “If he were hiding somewhere on the grounds, Drufus would have found him by now and alerted us.”
Drufus was Brynne’s beloved hound; a monster on four paws.
“Surely someone would have remembered seeing Rosemary if she came downstairs,” said Evie. “She’s the bride. The belle of the ball. No one is going to overlook her today.”
