little mouse nodded as though she truly did understand. “Perhaps it started that way, but tonight, she woke to find her nightmare alive and well in her home.” She snorted. “No wonder she ran out onto the street.”
Again, a chilling cold gripped Pierce’s heart as he stared at her, unable to process the implications of her words.
Seeing his face, her gaze narrowed. “You don’t know,” she whispered, and a touch of compassion came to her eyes. “It was Coleridge. She told me so herself. She said he hurt her mother and she was afraid he’d come to hurt her as well.”
Pierce almost toppled over at her words.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A Night Long Past
Unexpected was not a strong enough word for all that had happened that night.
From the moment Caroline had first caught sight of little Daphne, her head had been spinning out of control and it still hadn’t stopped. With every word, every observation, new implications formed in her mind and she knew not what to make of them.
The only thing that seemed crystal clear, in that moment, was that Lord Markham had not known of Lord Coleridge’s involvement in whatever had happened to the little girl and her mother. At her words, his face paled dangerously, shock freezing his features as his dark eyes stared back at her unblinking.
“Are you all right?” Caroline whispered, reaching out a comforting hand, but then stopped herself a hair’s breadth away from touching his arm.
His throat worked, and his gaze all but stared through her, his mind unaware of the mistake she’d almost made. Something seemed to work inside him and, slowly, his color began to return, chasing away the shock and replacing it with an emotion far more bearable, anger.
“I’ll kill him!” he growled as his body tensed, his hands rising and balling into fists.
A murderous gleam came to his thunderous gaze, and something dark and menacing settled about him. He no longer looked like the teasing, persistent, utterly irritating but cheerful lord. Instead, he rather resembled the dark vigilante she’d seen in him the night he’d chased away the drunkards in the alley…if indeed it had been him! Caroline still couldn’t be sure, still had doubts. However, what she knew in her heart was that he was on the brink of doing something unwise. Even if Lord Coleridge deserved his wrath—and Caroline did not doubt that he did—she knew that acting in haste rarely led to a desirable outcome.
And so, she moved with thought, seeking to balance his emotions.
Her hands rose, then settled on his clenched fists, her chilled skin in stark contrast to the fire that burned in his. She felt a jolt snap through her and watched his eyes blink in shock, as well, before they cleared and met hers. “Tell me what happened,” she whispered, careful to keep her voice even despite the teasing shivers that danced across her skin.
His breath came fast as he looked at her, his eyes almost black as though his soul had fled at the shock of this discovery. Had she known, Caroline would have phrased her observation with greater care. Now, all she could do was offer comfort and caution him to not act without thought.
“What happened to her?”
Lord Markham swallowed, and she felt his hands under hers tense further. “If…if she is right,” he gritted out, “then Coleridge was one of the men who…murdered her parents.” He all but spat the name, and she could sense that he was no more than a second away from jerking his hands free and rushing out of the house.
Instantly, her own grasped his, her slender fingers wrapping around his wrists to keep him where he was. “Her parents?” she asked carefully, wondering about the contradiction. Had Daphne not called him Papa?
His gaze cleared, and she could see that he understood her meaning. “They were on the road late.” He shook his head and, for a moment, his gaze moved down to where her hands held on to him. “I don’t know how they drew their attention. Perhaps it was simply bad luck. I doubt it was anything they did. Their paths simply crossed and…” His eyes closed and he hung his head. “I can still hear their laughter,” he whispered, anguish in his voice. “It was a game to them. Nothing more.”
Caroline felt tears forming in her eyes as she pictured a young family on the road attacked by a group of men. Men like Coleridge, she assumed. Titled men. Men of good standing. “What happened?”