wiping it away. Each day it felt more like a prison. It was becoming harder to keep the world out altogether. Because of her. Miranda.
Archer’s head jerked up with a snap. That voice. He knew that voice. His chest tightened so quickly the breath left him. He sought the voice out over the buzzing of laughter and music.
“Miranda…”
Archer’s vision clouded with a red haze. The tightness in his chest turned to pain. God damned bloody hell. His knees buckled as rage flooded through him. The glass fell to the floor and splintered into a thousand shards. He was halfway to the stairs before he realized he’d taken a step.
Someone cried out as he shoved a hapless man out of his way. He quickened his pace. Miranda’s perfume lingered in the stairwell from when she’d ascended it earlier. Archer heard that foul laugh, deepened now to a low chuckle, and then the sound of Miranda’s voice calling out. Archer convulsed. Miranda was up there, meant to hear just as he had been. She was up there, walking into that thing’s trap. Fear for Miri nearly crippled him for one awful moment, then he raced up the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-three
With her hair properly pinned, Miranda emerged from the guest room feeling refreshed and more than a little foolish for letting Rossberry get the better of her. Her confidence faded, however, as she faced the gloomy darkness of the hall and realized that all of the lights had been snuffed out.
“Miranda.”
Startled, Miranda braced a hand against the wall. The voice had no direction, only intent.
“Miranda.”
“Hello?” she called.
No one responded. Logic cried out to run. But she could not. And when the door at the end of the hall creaked slowly open, she could only stare, the panting of her breath like thunder in the resounding silence.
Icy drafts of night air flowed over her heated cheeks as the door swayed back and forth. Only the wind. The French windows fronting the drive were open, the white lace curtains floating and swirling. Blue moonlight ghosted over the parquet toward the rug. She wrenched off her mask and moved forward as though entranced. Something was waiting for her.
She was going to scream. She felt it rise in her throat, trapped only by the fear that tightened all her muscles. Miranda took a step closer. And suddenly a presence was rushing up behind her. Intent upon claiming her.
She turned in mindless terror, colliding bodily with something large and dark. The thing caught her by the arms, and her scream broke free. She lashed out only to be drawn against it.
Her body knew him before her mind did. Archer. Her hands clawed at his lapels as Archer’s arms wrapped around her.
“Archer.” When she could breathe, she gave his chest an unsteady thump with her fist. “Good Lord, you gave me a fright.” But when she tried to pull away, he held her tight, his big hand cupping the back of her head.
“I apologize,” he said. It was then she felt the rapid tattoo of his heart against her cheek. “I thought I heard…” He eased back to glance at her, but his body stayed tense, alert to any threat. “Something here is amiss. I can feel it.”
She glanced at the open door, and a chill crawled down her spine. “I do, too,” she whispered.
“We are leaving,” Archer said. “Now.” He did not give her a chance to protest but tugged her down the stairs. Miranda was more than willing to go. With each step, she felt the burn of unseen eyes upon her back.
He took her down the back door and out the service entrance. Their four-in-hand landau waited in the drive with the hood up, the dark bays gleaming blue in the bright moonlight. Archer offered her a hand up to the coach. A sable rug and hot water bottle lay in wait upon the seat, and she tucked herself in, glad for the warmth. Archer was just about to follow when a loud crash echoed through the courtyard. They jumped, but a nearby footman was quickest to recover.
“That would be Henrietta,” the footman said with a glance at a small woman bent over a fallen crate of glasses near the kitchen door. “One of the maids. She’s a bit soft in the head.”
Muffled sobs reached Miranda’s ears as the poor woman tried to adjust her heavy load.
Archer jumped down from the coach step. “I’ll be just a moment.”
The footman, caught in the position of looking less than