“When Lord Murray returned,” Cassandra continued, “I drank the lemonade, though mentioned it tasted bitter.”
“And what was Murray’s response?” Trent asked.
“He made a derogatory comment about Lord Craven, about his staff being incapable, and then we danced the waltz before he left me again to go in search of his mother.”
“Evidently the lemonade contained the substance used to render you unconscious,” Wycliff said. “Can you remember feeling the effects before your world plunged into darkness?”
Cassandra fell silent for a moment. “Dancing made me tired and dizzy, my limbs heavy. I went to sit down and then Rosamund appeared. She offered to accompany me to the retiring room, but I insisted on going alone, though I barely remember the conversation. Indeed, I remember little else after that.”
Once again, silence ensued while they absorbed the information.
“If I’m correct,” Scarlett began, “the retiring room in Lord Craven’s house has double doors leading out to the terrace.”
“Yes, though the curtains were drawn and there was a series of dressing screens blocking the exit. I remember because I had visited the room earlier that evening.”
Wycliff sighed. “Though loath to point out the obvious, I’d place my bet on Murray. He’s the only one with motive and opportunity.”
“You forget that a groom saw Purcell bundle a woman into his carriage on the night in question,” Trent said. “Perhaps Purcell distracted Murray on his way back to the ballroom and poured a tincture into the lemonade.”
Benedict nodded. “We know Purcell left the ball early.”
“And what about Murray?” Wycliff focused his attention on Cassandra. “What time did he leave? Can anyone vouch for his whereabouts after you disappeared?”
Cassandra’s eyes widened. “I never thought to ask.” A blush stained her cheeks. “I suppose I thought him incapable of committing such a heinous crime.”
“Our lives have been somewhat hectic since we married,” Benedict interjected in her defence. Hectic was a gross understatement. “We’ve barely had a minute to breathe.” An image of her panting beneath him sent a lightning bolt of lust shooting to his loins.
“Then determining if Murray has an alibi must be paramount,” Wycliff said, “although that still doesn’t mean Murray wasn’t involved.”
Trent squared his shoulders. “Then let us beat the truth from the man. Indeed, we could bring this matter to a swift conclusion with the right amount of pressure.”
Verity gave a frustrated sigh. “If our dealings with the Brethren taught us anything, it’s that one should expect the unexpected. Whoever devised the plan to ruin Cassandra was rather meticulous in the details. Forgive me, but Lord Murray seems incapable of managing his diary.”
A footman approached carrying a tray laden with flutes of champagne. They all took one. The men downed the contents. The ladies sipped their drinks while lost in thought.
“So, we must make a plan of action.” Scarlett cast her attention over the group. “Damian will visit Dermot Flannery and make enquiries into the brutes who attacked you. Lawrence will revisit Lord Craven’s groom and press for a more detailed description of the lady bundled into Purcell’s carriage. Purcell’s coachman must have brought his carriage round to the private mews at a specified time.”
Benedict inclined his head in agreement. “Whoever kidnapped Cassandra must have left via the mews.” A man didn’t walk out of a grand house with an unconscious woman flung over his shoulder. “We need to know who else used the mews that night.” People made a discreet exit for a variety of reasons.
A mischievous smile played at the corners of Trent’s mouth. “I shall attend to the matter first thing in the morning.”
“And I shall tackle the issue of Murray’s alibi.” Benedict would start by questioning those people he knew were in attendance.
“What shall I do?” Cassandra seemed more than eager for a role in this plan. “I could speak to Miss Pendleton. Perhaps Lord Murray made promises while we were still betrothed.”
“An excellent idea.” Scarlett smiled. “I’ve heard that revisiting the scene of a crime often rouses suppressed memories. Perhaps you and Benedict should follow the route from Lord Craven’s ball to Hyde Park when you leave here tonight.”
Benedict would try anything if it meant finding the culprit. Only then could they move on with their lives, regain some semblance of normality.
“The retiring room here is somewhat similar to the one Lord Craven allocated for his guests. Perhaps a visit might spark a memory.” Scarlett was a fountain of useful suggestions.
Cassandra finished her champagne and handed Benedict her glass. “Then we shall go now. I should like to have at least one waltz with my husband before the night is through and cannot give him my undivided attention when my mind is plagued by the past.”
Benedict placed their empty flutes on a passing footman’s tray, as did his friends, before capturing Cassandra’s hand and pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. “I shall go in search of those who might remember Murray’s movements that night. Shall we agree to meet here in half an hour?”
Their gazes locked. The twinkle of desire in Cassandra’s eyes fed his own craving. Indeed, he wasn’t sure if he could wait until they were home to make love to her again.
“Perfect. And I shall look forward to our first dance together as husband and wife.”