Mistress of Sins (Dredthorne Hall #3) - Hazel Hunter Page 0,39

her husband, only to find a restraining hand on her arm.

“Please, I am well.” Margaret dragged in some air. “If I might rest for a moment, and catch my breath. I rode here from the Tindall’s on horseback.”

Jeffrey looked astounded. “By yourself, in the dark?”

They ushered her into the sitting room, where he eased her down on their chaise while Deidre lit the lamps. She debated on whether or not to get the small bottle of brandy they kept for medicinal use, but decided against it when she saw the color returning to the older woman’s cheeks.

“Forgive me for intruding at such a late hour,” Margaret said, her voice still slightly breathless but steadier. “I could not think of what else to do.”

Jeffrey knelt down beside her. “What has happened, Mrs. Reed?”

“It is Jennet.” She drew in a deep breath. “I sent our man Barton to Tindall House to await her return from the masquerade ball. I did not wish her to drive to Reed Park alone, you see, after she left Catherine there. I have seen strange men walking about our grounds at night. Men not of Renwick or any of the estates, and now she has not come home.”

“I saw your daughter just before we left the ball,” Deidre told her before glancing quickly at her husband. “She looked very well. She must have stayed a little longer to enjoy the dancing.”

“That cannot be.” Margaret swiped at her eyes. “Barton came back to tell me that Catherine returned without her, and then our carriage vanished entirely. My Jennet is stranded at that horrible house. I cannot ride all the way out there, for I do not know the roads. I will be thrown from the horse for certain.”

Deidre had felt uneasy from the moment she and Jeffrey had entered Dredthorne Hall. Something about the old house made her feel as if dark forces gathered there. Now she wondered if Jennet might have eloped with the baron, or if the house had claimed yet another victim.

“I will drive our carriage out there directly myself,” Jeffrey said, reaching for his cloak. “You stay here and rest until I come back with your daughter. It will be well, Mrs. Reed, I promise you.”

“Thank you, Vicar.” Margaret fell back against the cushions. “God bless you for being such a friend to us.”

Draping the shivering woman with her shawl, Deidre met her husband’s determined gaze. “Be careful, my dear.”

Chapter 16

Once outside the hidden library, Greystone gestured for Jennet to stop and stay where she was while he went to the door leading out to the hall. There he eased it open to a small gap and peered out.

Three men dressed in great coats and masks carried Arthur Pickering’s body past him, heading for the kitchens. Likely they would put his body with Foray’s, where it would remain concealed until the smell of rot or the need for firewood brought the servants. He imagined they had already tidied the scene of the murder.

Greystone had never cared for Arthur, or his macabre sense of humor, but he had been a skilled agent and an excellent courier. His loss would be felt on both sides of the channel.

Carefully he closed the door and leaned back against it. He saw how Jennet was staring at him, and the rapidly-darkening bruise on her face. He wanted to stalk out and gut all three of the brutes for daring to strike her, but that would have to wait. Somehow he had to get her out of the house and to safety, and take care of the package.

Then he would deal with the killers.

Greystone took hold of her hand, and led her into the adjoining smoking room, which stood dark, but had a window facing the front drive.

“What are you doing?” she whispered as he tried to open the window.

“Quiet.” He waved her back and shifted to one side as he saw a slim figure approaching the steps.

The new arrival wore a heavy hooded cloak that covered body and face, but he could see boots and dark trousers as the folds of the cloak moved. The men who had killed Foray and Pickering would answer to this one, Greystone suspected. Since he knew they had not found what they had killed for, they would next begin searching the house.

Identifying the ringleader might well expose an entire network of French agents working in England.

He waited until the cloaked figure had entered the house before he moved back to Jennet. “Another has