William sank back against his chair and, elbows resting on the armrests, arched his fingers in front of him. “Considering her father’s position as ambassador, coupled with his rank as a peer in general, there may have been many who disliked him.”
“It could have been the bloody locals for all we know,” Bryce muttered. William knew that Hampstead had been a good acquaintance of his and that his father had mourned both his and his wife’s deaths. At least there was some measure of comfort to be had in discovering that their daughter had not been a victim as well.
“It’s possible, I suppose,” William remarked. “However, the mask does suggest that not only was it a planned attack but also that the assassin knew he might be recognized and took preventive measures in order to avoid it.”
“But it does sound rather unlikely that an incident that occurred so long ago and so far away would be the reason behind Lucy’s recent displays of nervousness. Surely there must be another explanation,” Lady Ridgewood said as she looked to each of the gentlemen for an answer.
“I have to agree,” Bryce said. He paused for a moment before saying, “She seemed all right until…well, the day before yesterday I suppose. Except when Reinhardt mentioned the pendant…”
“I asked her about that when I went to check up on her yesterday. It was her mother’s, you see, and I dare say I haven’t seen that gold heart since I last saw Eugenia eight or nine years ago—before they left for Constantinople. Lucy claimed she’d kept it hidden away in her jewelry box all this time.” Lady Ridgewood suddenly frowned. “And then she changed the subject all together. Do you think it’s possible that…No, it can’t be.”
“We can’t dismiss anything,” William said, feeling uneasier by the second. “Consider what we’ve deduced so far, Lady Ridgewood: Lord and Lady Hampstead’s murders were not incidental. Six years later, Lucy marries me, venturing back out into society and perhaps even drawing the attention of the man she escaped from so long ago. Then the pendant suddenly shows up after last being seen on Lucy’s mother, and when we factor in Lucy punching Reinhardt when merely he sought to cut her loose with his knife, her sudden need to keep a pistol by her bedside, and her odd behavior in general, I cannot help but think that not only is something very wrong but that Lucy might be in terrible danger as we speak.”
“Dear Lord,” Lady Ridgewood murmured, her teacup rattling against the saucer as she returned it to the table and prepared to rise.
William held up a staying hand. “I’ve asked Alexandra to keep her company until I return to her side. They’re upstairs in Lucy’s bedroom right now, so I do believe they’re quite safe for the moment. In the meantime, I’ve also asked Ryan to entertain the guests with a game of croquet outside in order to keep them occupied and consequently prevent drawing attention to Lucy’s absence. The fewer questions asked the better.”
Bryce concurred with a nod. “What’s your next move, William? Anything that we can do to help?”
William nodded and then took another sip of his coffee. It was tepid by now, making him wince slightly in response to it. “Lucy and I will be joining you for a ride in the landau. Your trip in the barouche will have to wait, I’m afraid. There’ll be less cause for suspicion if we venture out on a group picnic than if Lucy and I head out alone.” Picking up a biscuit, he bit into it to remove the taste of the coffee. “You’ll drop us off at a fair distance from the house and then enjoy a pleasant country ride while Lucy and I go for a walk.”
“You think you can make her talk?” Lady Ridgewood asked, her voice sounding hopeful while her eyes remained wide with concern.
“I hope so,” William said as he rose to his feet and straightened his jacket “because the more I consider the matter, the more inclined I am to believe that her life may very well depend upon it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucy stared stiffly out of the window as the carriage rolled down the driveway and away from Moorland Manor, swaying slightly as it rounded a bend in the road, the loose gravel crunching beneath the wheels. She was sitting next to William, with Constance on the opposite bench with Lord Moorland. Nobody spoke, and although Lucy’s eyes were fixed upon the passing landscape, she didn’t register any of it. All she could think about was her encounter with the masked assassin the night before, not to mention her conversation with William after he had caught her in the act of stealing his pistol. He’d kept her under close guard ever since, insisting that she breakfast upstairs in her room along with his sister.
Lucy hadn’t minded the confinement too much. Indeed, she’d felt too rattled to entertain anyone and too nervous at the prospect of having to face Reinhardt, Galensbury, Stanton, or Fairfield with a smile upon her face. One of them had killed her parents six years earlier, and the thought that she’d entertained and laughed with the man had made her sick to her stomach.
Now, William’s insistence upon taking this drive filled her with trepidation, for she sensed that he had an ulterior motive behind it—that he wished to speak with her privately.
“This was a splendid idea,” Constance suddenly remarked, startling Lucy out of her reverie. “The weather’s wonderful—perfect for a picnic.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Lord Moorland said cheerfully.
Lucy wasn’t so sure she agreed. She eyed her husband, who looked completely calm and collected as he sat there beside her. He was no fool; his job was to solve riddles, for heaven’s sake. There was no way that he would be satisfied by what she’d told him last night. As it was, she doubted that he’d slept much, for he looked more tired than usual. And if he hadn’t slept, then he must have been thinking…contemplating and deducing.
As if to confirm this nagging suspicion, he suddenly leaned out of the window on his side of the carriage and called for the coachman to halt. “This is far enough,” he said as he reached down and opened the large picnic basket that stood on the floor between their feet.
Turning to look, Lucy saw him pull out a smaller basket from inside the larger one, realizing that he’d asked Cook to pack two separate meals. Apparently he meant to get her completely alone.
For some reason, she’d imagined that he’d merely pull her aside at some point or take her for a walk, away from the others. But no—he didn’t seem to desire anyone else’s company at all. She forced herself to remain calm. If he only knew the danger that he was placing them all in with this stubborn determination of his. Rising, he grabbed one of the carriage blankets and then moved toward the door. “Come back for us in a couple of hours, will you?”
“Certainly,” Lord Moorland agreed, tipping his hat toward Lucy. “Enjoy your outing.”
Feeling ambushed, Lucy’s eyes shot toward Constance in alarm, but her friend simply smiled. “Go on, Lucy—we’ll see you later.” And before she had time to fully analyze the situation or issue any form of complaint, she felt herself being pulled out of the carriage by William who was already on the ground waiting to assist her.
“I needed to get you alone for a while without drawing too much attention,” he said as she helplessly watched the carriage roll away into the distance. “We have a lot to discuss, without prying eyes or anyone close enough by to listen. Come—let’s go this way.”
As if in a daze, she started walking, her hand resting firmly upon his arm as he led her forward along a path that quickly took them away from the road and through a thicket of trees. As the path narrowed, he went ahead of her, turning occasionally to offer his hand as they stepped over some rocks and fallen trees that were blocking their way. Eventually, the path widened into a clearing, and as William moved aside, Lucy stilled, her breath catching in her throat, as the beauty of the scenery around her filled her with awe.
“I used to come here as a child,” he told her as he took her hand in his and led her forward toward the small lake, the surface of which was dotted by pale, pink water lilies in full bloom.
Towering trees, lush with bright green leaves, flanked the edges of the lake like soldiers, while dense vegetation filled the embankment on all sides except for where they stood. Here the ground was flat and firm, covered by grass and moss instead. A gentle breeze moved the air, rustling the leaves, and Lucy instinctively tilted her head backward to stare up at the pale, blue sky overhead, her eyes squinting against the sun as it weaved its way in and out between the branches. “Thank you for sharing it with me,” she whispered, squeezing William’s hand as she turned back to face him. “It’s a very special place.”
“And completely private,” he quietly added, meeting her gaze.
Lucy felt her stomach flutter, once again wary of what he might say. But he said nothing yet. Instead, he set down the small basket he’d been holding and spread the blanket out upon a sunny patch of ground.
Crouching down and opening the basket, William then pulled out some ham and cheese, two rolls of bread, a small bowl filled with slices of apples and pears, a couple of scones, and finally a bottle of red wine. “Hungry?” he asked, handing her a plate and a napkin once she’d settled herself on the opposite corner of the blanket.
“As a matter of fact, I am feeling rather peckish. My appetite wasn’t too big during breakfast. After last night’s…” She realized too late that she’d just offered him the perfect opening for the conversation that she felt certain they were about to have and returned her attention to piling ham, cheese, and apple slices onto her plate—anything to keep her hands from fidgeting.
“I spoke to Lady Ridgewood this morning, Lucy,” William told her quietly after a moment’s pause. She didn’t have to look to know that he was sitting quite still and watching her. “I needed to know if there was anything you’d neglected to tell me—not just because of our relationship, because I know that you’ve had your reasons for secrecy, but because I’m worried that if you don’t tell me exactly what it is that’s going on, you’ll be facing danger alone, with no one to help you.”
Looking away, Lucy stared out over the flat water. She knew he was right, of course, but at the same time it felt like such a big risk to take. “Lady Ridgewood mentioned the mask,” William told her softly. Reaching across the blanket, he placed his hand over hers. “And from what I’ve managed to piece together based on what she’s told me and my own observations, it does appear as though the man who did it is still after you.”
Closing her eyes, Lucy drew a quivering breath. She should have known that William’s astuteness would give him reason to question everything he saw. “He sent me this pendant.” Her fingers rose to clasp the gold heart that hung from the chain around her neck. “And warned me against giving rise to suspicion if I valued the lives of my friends and family…I couldn’t tell anyone that he’d found me, and when he…”