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Fernsby glared at him with narrowed eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Henry did not need a second invitation. He pulled back his arm and swung. His fist connected with Fernsby’s jaw. The man’s head jerked back, and with a curse, he stumbled sideways.

“Put the painting down,” Henry repeated.

“As you wish.” In one swift movement, Fernsby set the frame on top of the display and spun around, his fist plowing into Henry’s abdomen.

Henry doubled over, and Fernsby let his fist fly again. This time, Henry anticipated the punch, stumbling to the left before Fernsby’s hand could connect with his face. Still winded, he shifted right, stepping just outside the circle of candlelight as Fernsby darted forward.

Henry moved again, this time to the left. Fernsby was cloaked in darkness, moving on silent feet. Only the occasional rasp of breath hinted that someone else was in the room. With arms extended, Henry inched forward, knowing the fossil display was close. Behind him, a thud was followed by a smothered curse. If Fernsby had run into the ancient coins case, he was fewer than three yards away.

Switching directions so that he was moving toward the wall, Henry mentally reviewed the items in this room. He could hardly use a painting or valuable museum piece as a weapon. The risk of doing irrevocable damage to the objects was too great. Beyond those articles, his only option was a wooden chair that sat near the door. He turned to work his way toward the exit.

A flicker of movement on the fringes of the candlelight caught his attention. He backed right and clipped the corner of another display case. His grunt was barely audible, but Fernsby must have been listening. The man rushed forward, his head low, and barreled into Henry. Henry swung right and then left, connecting with Fernsby’s stomach twice before going down with Fernsby on top of him.

Like a hammer against an anvil, Henry’s head hit the floor with a resounding crack. Pain consumed him, stealing his breath, slowing his motion, and clouding his thoughts. And then there was nothing.

Chapter 24

Emily looked at the clock on the drawing room mantel for about the tenth time in the last eight minutes. Quarter past eleven in the morning. Surely Henry had had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Fernsby by now. They both should have arrived at the museum hours ago. But if that was the case, where was the messenger he’d promised to send?

Closing her book, she set it on the nearby end table. She’d reread the same lines at least half a dozen times but could not repeat a single word. All she could think of was what Henry might be facing. Terrifying memories of Adam’s run-in with a criminal a year and a half ago had haunted her night, and though it was extremely unlikely that Fernsby was nearly so vicious as Adam’s nemesis, she could not countenance the thought that a man she loved was once again facing someone who wished him ill.

Attempting to quell her rising anxiety, she thought through what little she knew. Henry had said the meeting with the board of trustees was scheduled for one o’clock at Lord Southbeck’s house. According to Aunt Millward, it would take a carriage fifteen minutes to travel there from the museum. Henry would not want to be late. Neither would Mr. Fernsby. They would likely leave for the meeting soon after half past twelve.

She took an unsteady breath. Another fifteen minutes. If a messenger did not arrive from Henry by then, she would order Aunt Millward’s carriage and discover what had happened for herself.

“Ah, there you are, Emily.”

Emily turned to see Aunt Millward walk into the room, a shawl over her shoulders and her peacock feather hat upon her head.

Emily rose to greet her. “Good day, Aunt Millward.”

“Yes, well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” The older lady pressed her fingers into her gloves. “I believe the time has come to discover what has happened to Henry and the message he was supposed to send us. I am off to visit the Farwells’ home, and if he is not there, I shall continue on to the museum. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Yes!” The single word doubled as a cry of relief, and Emily was across the room in an instant. “I will join you in the hall as soon as I have my hat and gloves.”

Half an hour later, Emily descended from the carriage in front of Lord and Lady Farwell’s house and took her place at Aunt Millward’s side. Together, they mounted the steps to the front door. Aunt Millward raised the knocker. The rat-a-tat-tat reverberated through the door, jarring Emily’s frayed nerves. She understood Aunt Millward’s desire to check the house first. It was closer than the museum, and if Henry was not here, surely someone within—either Henry’s parents or a servant—would know where he was.

The door opened, and the butler who had welcomed Emily when she’d come to the dinner party bowed in greeting. “Good day, Lady Millward,” he said. “Miss Norton.”

“Good day, Akers,” Aunt Millward said. “We are come to talk to Mr. Buckland.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Buckland is unavailable, my lady.”

Emily’s heart sank, but Aunt Millward appeared undeterred.

“Very well. I will speak to Lady Farwell.”

Maintaining an unruffled expression, Akers delivered further bad news. “Lord and Lady Farwell have gone to the country, my lady. They left a few days ago and won’t be back for a fortnight or more.”

“Good heavens.” Aunt Millward’s peacock feathers bobbed up and down in indignation. “How inconvenient.”

“I am sorry that I cannot be of greater assistance, my lady.”

“Oh, but you can.” Aunt Millward smiled. “We simply need to know what time Mr. Buckland left for the museum this morning.”

“I cannot say, my lady.”