Raven (Gentlemen of the Order 2)

“And you do not consider that dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” Goodwin snorted.

Meddling with people’s minds.

Playing God.

Playing judge and jury.

“Altering Jessica’s perception of reality. No doubt you cast Mr Archer as the hero of the tale, not a scoundrel who couldn’t keep his cock in his breeches.”

Goodwin’s mouth dropped open. Clearly, he was unused to plain speaking. “Healing the mind is the priority,” the doctor said. “What would—”

The sudden pounding of footsteps on the landing brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Finlay charged to the door and flung it open just as the maid raised her hand to knock. One look at the woman’s eyes, wide and full of panic, told him all he needed to know.

“Miss Draper has left the house,” Finlay stated, yet he had not heard the boards creak or heard her padding downstairs. “How long ago?”

Anne took to fidgeting and fumbling with her fingers. “I’m unsure, s-sir.”

“You fell asleep?” He could hardly r

ant at Anne’s incompetence. Caring for Jessica had left the poor woman exhausted. “Do you remember the last time you heard the clock chime?”

“I—I heard the stroke of midnight, sir.”

So, Jessica had at least a half an hour start. That said, he imagined her wandering aimlessly, not racing towards the woods with purpose.

He turned to Dr Goodwin. “Fetch Blent and help him with the hounds. But he is not to approach her. Is that clear? We need to know what draws her outside.”

“You expect me to traipse outdoors at night?” Goodwin’s grimace spoke of cowardice.

“Don’t you want to cure your patient?”

The doctor sighed but continued muttering his complaint as he pushed past the maid and stomped downstairs.

Finlay focused on Anne, her trembling bottom lip rousing suspicion. “What is it, Anne? You’ve something else to tell me.”

Anne scrunched her nose. “It’s about Miss Draper, sir. The door to the back stairs was wide open. She … she might have taken the servants’ exit.”

Damnation! “I told you to lock that door.”

“I did, sir.” She tugged the string around her neck and pulled the key from inside the bodice of her brown twill dress. “I don’t know how Miss Draper opened the door, but she didn’t use my key.”

Finlay didn’t have time to examine the matter further. “We’ll discuss this later. You’re to wait here. Ring the church bell if Miss Draper arrives home before we do.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Anne took the lit oil lamp from the console table on the landing and hurried downstairs.

Despite the commotion, Sophia didn’t stir. Weeks of sleepless nights had taken their toll. He considered letting her rest, but if she woke to discover Jessica was missing, she would be furious.

“Sophia,” he said, stepping closer to the bed. “Sophia.”

For an indulgent few seconds, he watched the rise and fall of her chest, listened to the gentle rhythm of her breathing. Although his heart was buried beneath the weight of past pain, he still felt a profound affection. He might have sat there for hours, watching her, allowing himself to experience that excruciating tug, had they not a pressing matter requiring their attention.

“Sophia.”

With reluctance he reached out, touched her shoulder and rocked her from her slumber. The merest touch sent a jolt of pleasure shooting up his arm. He had forgotten what it was like to feel one’s life-force pulsing wildly. He’d never forgotten the all-consuming power of her magnetic pull.

Sophia’s eyes flickered open. Her dreamy gaze caressed his face. “Finlay,” she whispered. “You’re home.”