How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)
“I might not have time to change out of this ballgown,” she replied grimly, reaching for a pair of boots. “But I can’t very well run off on a rescue mission in dancing slippers.”
“Begging your pardon,” John put in, alarmed. “You don’t mean to say you’re going yourself.”
She yanked savagely at the laces. “Of course, I do.”
“We need to tell the duke. He has an army of footmen.”
“We don’t have the time for that,” Persephone said. “By all means, let them follow, but I can’t wait for them.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Priya assured her. “I can convince him not to send too many footmen willy-nilly. It might set the traitor nervous where he’ll do something rash if he spots them.”
“He wants me to leave the letter at the Avenue, at the statue of Jupiter.”
“And then he’ll tell you where Conall is?”
They exchanged a short-charged glance. “Not likely. Which is why I have to go now. I know the area better than anyone. If I can hide myself, I can follow him.”
“You’ll take Tamsin and Meg.”
“If they can catch up.” She reached for a shawl, tying the ends of the raspberry-red wool at the small of her back so it would stay secure. The colour distracted her for a moment, reminding her of dreams of raspberry bushes scratching her arms until they bled. Of that something hiding in the back of her mind that she couldn’t quite access. And then suddenly, a wash of understanding. Puzzle pieces clicking into place.
Raspberries.
Raspberry jam.
“Holy hell,” she muttered, staring at the shawl. “I know what I was missing.” Priya looked at her expectantly. “Holly is involved in this somehow.”
“What? How? She’s a mouse.”
“It’s been bothering me for days. We had lists of the guests and we knew who was on the terrace when the urn was pushed off the roof. But Holly wasn’t there. I’d passed her going back up the stairs. She was fussing over a stain of raspberry jam on her dress. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“And why think something of it now?”
“What if the traitor was on the terrace, after all? You said it yourself, you couldn’t get anything out of the servants or the other guests, and your brother questioned them thoroughly. To say the least. Holly Carter wasn’t questioned because I’d just seen her on the staircase. I thought she was upset over the raspberry jam on her dress. Now I wonder.”
“And the ladies were unlikely to be questioned as thoroughly as the men,” Priya added. “You think Holly was a distraction then?”
“Maybe. So he could hide in plain sight. Do you think it’s possible?”
“Yes. And it’s clever, which I do not like. But there is one way to find out,” Priya said darkly. “She’s sleeping in the east wing. Let’s ask her, shall we?”
The blighter hadcome at him from behind.
Conall’s head ached like the devil. He was dizzy, blurry.
And tied up.
He blinked, trying to get his eyeballs to work. He was outside, that much he could make out. The summer air was cool, and he thought he heard the paddling of swans, the soft murmur of water. Where was he?
More importantly, where was Persephone? Was she here? Was she hurt?
“Persephone?” He was still befuddled from the blow to the head. His voice didn’t sound like his own. His only reply was from a disgruntled swan. With any luck she was safe in her bed. He’d kill the bastard if he hurt her. Treason demanded justice from the crown. Harm to Persephone demanded murder.
He strained against the ropes that bound him, but it only served to set his head to a vicious nauseated throb.
It did nottake long for Priya to return with Holly, dressed in her nightgown and wrapper. Persephone had used the time to pen a letter in Henry’s handwriting. She knew it well enough for it to be no trouble to forge. Priya pushed Holly ahead of her. The other woman looked nervous and miserable. Her eyes darted back and forth. “So it was you,” Persephone said.
Holy blinked rapidly. “What was? It’s very odd to pull me from my bed in the middle of – why is this man bleeding?” She gasped.