space between them, connecting with the side of Sebastian’s knee. He went down on all fours and had only enough time to raise his forearm to protect his head. But his assailant wasn’t interested in bashing his skull.
The cudgel rammed into his lower back. Pain, sharp and debilitating, shot up his spine, arching his vertebrae and throwing him off-balance. He crashed to the floor, incapacitated.
His assailant shuffled closer but was careful to stay out of reach. A low, raspy voice said, “Why, I’m waiting for you, my lord.”
Sebastian tried to scramble away, tried to get to his knife. But exhaustion, alcohol, and excruciating pain made him clumsy and slow. A boot slammed into his head, and Sebastian’s face crashed into the rough carpet. His last thought before the night claimed him was of her. Catherine. Or, more specifically, her scent.
***
August 14
Sebastian woke to low murmurings behind him.
“Is he alive, Grayson?”
“I believe so, my lord,” his butler said. “The doctor is on his way. I dared not move him with such a head injury.”
Sebastian recognized the other man as his former ward. He tried to push himself upright, but his arm would not move and his leg hurt like bloody hell. Then he recalled the brutal attack, and his jaw clenched, unable to believe he’d been caught so unawares.
“Wise decision,” Danforth said. “Any idea who did this?”
“None, sir.”
“Have you noticed any unusual activity in the area?”
“We did have a peculiar event occur yesterday,” Grayson said. “A local girl was killed. Lord Somerton and Mrs. Ashcroft found her in the woodland not far from here.”
“How did she die?”
“Strangulation,” Grayson said. “The poor thing was also enceinte.”
Opening his eyes, Sebastian saw nothing save the bottom of his bookshelf. The more conscious he became, the more aware of his body he became. His right arm was trapped beneath his weight and his neck ached from its twisted position.
“Looks like he’s waking, sir.”
“Chief.” Danforth shook his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Can you get up?”
Sebastian winced at the sudden jarring of his arm. “Yes and no,” he croaked. “My arm.”
The viscount eased him onto his back, taking care of Sebastian’s useless arm. Blood rushed into his fingertips, releasing angry needles of retribution into his flesh. He flexed his hand, the action clunky and awkward, until feeling returned. He nodded his thanks.
“Grayson, can you fetch his lordship some water?”
Said water materialized in front of Danforth’s face. He accepted the butler’s offering with a wry look. “Thank you, old chap.” To Sebastian, he said, “I’m going to lift your head a little so you can drink. If I hurt you, grunt or something.”
The cool liquid soothed his parched throat, and Sebastian drank until Danforth forced him to pause for breath. His mouth must have been a big, open, yawning hole while he was unconscious. Not a pleasant image.
“Is everyone else unharmed?” he asked, his thoughts going to Catherine.
“Indeed, sir,” Grayson said.
Sebastian tried to sit up, but a sharp pain sliced through his lower back.
“Careful,” Danforth warned. “You have a nasty bump on the head.”
“Your hand,” Sebastian said, ignoring the viscount’s warning. Once he was upright, he probed the gash above his temple. Nasty, indeed. “What time is it?”
Danforth checked his timepiece. “A little past eight.”
Combing his fingers through his hair, Sebastian asked, “Where’s Mrs. Ashcroft?”
“She left about an hour ago, my lord,” Grayson said. “She mentioned she knocked on your door to relay her plans for the day. When you did not answer, she thought you were overtired from the previous day’s events and insisted I leave you be. Your valet reported you missing not long ago.”
Danforth whistled low. “You have packed a good deal of activity in the last twenty-four hours. Did you see who assaulted you?”
“No,” he said. “The study was dark, the attack swift.” Outside of his assailant’s raspy voice, all Sebastian recalled was Catherine’s distinctive scent. A pure feminine fragrance he would recognize anywhere. Even inebriated. Had she been meeting with his attacker, or had she been in his study minutes before? If so, why?
Setting aside the disturbing questions, he asked, “When did you arrive?”
“Only just.” Danforth handed him the rest of the water. In a level voice, he said, “I have news.”
The doctor picked that moment to arrive, and Sebastian spent the next hour enduring his less-than-gentle examination. After the doctor left and the drapes were drawn, Sebastian lowered himself into the chair behind his desk and tried to pretend his head was not splitting in two. “What do you have to