her forehead against his chest. Her body shook with sobs. He knew he should set her away from him or, at the very least, help her stand and walk back to the grassy embankment. But with the warmth of her body so near, with her tears soaking into his shirt… He hesitated for only a moment before pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her.
She melded against him, and he held her, knowing he shouldn’t. But he was helpless to do anything else.
Chapter 7
Victoria leaned against the closed door of her father’s study. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but after saying goodbye to Nathaniel, she hadn’t been able to ignore her father and Mr. Cushman’s voices deep in conversation, discussing all that had happened earlier in the day.
Mr. Cushman had been relaying details about the investigations he’d done that afternoon. He’d attempted to follow the perpetrator’s trail, had gone into town and asked around, had visited all the haunts where a criminal might hole up. He’d even questioned Davis several times. But the coachman hadn’t seen the attacker who’d knocked him out before climbing up and taking his place. Mr. Cushman had found Davis hidden under a hedge, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.
Now her father and Mr. Cushman were talking about a letter that had been placed on the front step of the house only an hour ago. She trembled at the thought that the kidnapper was still on the loose and might try to come after her again.
“Do you think the letter and this morning’s attack are related?” her father asked.
“Yes.” Mr. Cushman’s voice was low and earnest. Victoria could picture him sitting in a chair across the desk from her father, his shoulders straight and stiff, the muscles in his jaw flexing, and his brows slanted in frustration. “Which means we can’t have the wedding tomorrow.”
Victoria had been so convinced earlier that she ruined everything again. That perhaps she was the one sabotaging her attempts at getting married. That her fears were rising up and causing all the problems.
When Nathaniel had reassured her that none of day’s events were her fault, she’d wanted so badly to believe him. He’d promised her that any dress she chose for the wedding would be sufficient, that he didn’t care what she wore. And he’d very gently and sweetly convinced her to reschedule the wedding for tomorrow.
The tables and chairs and decorations for the wedding breakfast were all still set up on the spacious veranda at the back of the house. The guests were still in town. Mother had insisted that the flowers could be put in water and preserved.
Even now her mother was down in the kitchen speaking with the cook about what could be salvaged from the food they’d prepared for today and what would need to be remade. Already, her mother had hired several more cooks who were willing to work through the night to prepare another lavish feast for the wedding guests.
“We have to postpone,” Mr. Cushman insisted.
“But if I hire a few extra guards, plan a different route—”
“It would still be too dangerous.”
When her father didn’t contradict Mr. Cushman, Victoria guessed the threat that the letter contained must be serious.
Mr. Cushman lowered his voice so that Victoria had to press her ear against the keyhole to hear him. “I suggest putting Victoria into hiding.”
Her father didn’t respond. She guessed he was sitting back in his leather desk chair, his hands pressed together at his chin, and pondering Mr. Cushman’s advice thoughtfully. Finally, her father spoke in the same low tone as Mr. Cushman. “For how long?”
“A month should be enough to find the attacker.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“Arch has offered to search for him. If he can’t track him down, we’ll bait him.” The words were spoken so softly she almost didn’t hear him. She didn’t understand exactly what Mr. Cushman intended, but the deadliness of his tone made her shiver.
Again, her father was silent in contemplation. “Do you have any suggestions for a safe hiding place? One of my horse farms? Perhaps my home in Chicago? Or do you think Europe would be best?”
“None of those. It can’t be any place connected with you.”
What if she didn’t want to go into hiding? Did either of them consider that? Surely they were exaggerating the seriousness of the situation.
But even as she attempted to stay positive, the memories of the dangerous ride down Ocean Drive came crowding back. The terrifying moment of not