to his whereabouts tonight.”
“He returned this evening from his estate in Dorset. After traveling all day, he won’t be going out again tonight. He’s sent his servants off to bed and is now ensconced upstairs in his library.”
The news riveted Tessa. Once Banfield departed, she would scream herself raw in the hope that Haviland would hear her.
“The earl has become something of a recluse this past year,” Banfield continued. “His father left him quite destitute, and the authorities will be persuaded he had ample motive to have committed murder for that treasure map.” He glanced around. “I daresay these walls are too thick to allow any cries for help to penetrate. But just in case…”
He whipped out a strip of linen, stuffed it between her teeth, and tied it behind her head. Tessa recoiled as much from his loathsome touch as from the pain of him brushing the sore lump he’d inflicted. The whiff of his masculine cologne might have been the foul stench of a demon.
Damn him! She was only sorry she hadn’t cursed him blue when she’d had the opportunity. Though her tongue had been silenced, she let her eyes speak eloquently of her disgust.
Straightening up, he appeared amused by her glower. “I daresay you’re wondering how I can be so certain of Haviland’s doings. These past few days, I’ve been cajoling one of his maidservants, a spotty-faced goosecap whom I made sure to visit each morning while she was polishing the brass on the front door. She was putty in my hands and gladly told me all the household gossip.” He shook his head. “Alas, she isn’t long for this world. She, along with you and Guy, will suffer tragic deaths at Haviland’s hands.”
Tessa controlled a shiver. Though Banfield appeared to be the sober, upright gentleman, he was in truth a raving madman who belonged in Bedlam. He spoke of killing people as calmly as one might mention going to the market.
Then he withdrew a knife from inside his coat. He turned it in his fingers so that the steel blade flashed in the lamplight.
Her body went rigid. He meant to kill her this instant! She would never see Guy again, never know the joy of his embrace. Her desperate cry muffled by the gag, she yanked futilely at her bound hands.
Banfield crouched in front of her. His lips were curled into a caricature of a smile as if he savored her terror. She braced herself as he brought the knife closer. Would he cut her throat or plunge it into her bosom?
Instead, he uttered a nasty chuckle as he caught a lock of her hair and sliced it off. “Never fear, you’ll live until Guy is present to witness your death. This is merely bait to lure him here.”
Arising, he sheathed the knife and then examined the curl of hair in the light of the lantern. “An unusual shade of blond,” he mused, “rather like buttercream. Do you know this color is the signature trait of a certain noble family? Once one considers the possibility of a resemblance, it becomes easier to recognize it.”
Tessa was too shaken by the close call even to make sense of his words. She could only stare at him, willing her heart to slow its frantic beating.
He tucked the little bundle of hair, along with the knife, into an inner pocket of his coat. Then he surveyed the coal cellar with an air of satisfaction. “I must say, this scenario has a certain poetic flair. It will appear as though Guy was killed by his old friend, and you by a man who might be your half brother. Think about that whilst I’m gone. Do excuse me now.”
He took the lantern and ascended a steep flight of wooden stairs. A moment later the room went black and she heard the rattle of a key in the lock.
Tessa huddled cold and alone in a darkness so absolute it might have been the stuff of nightmares. Her situation was utterly hopeless. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t scream. The very walls seemed to close in, threatening to suffocate her. Disjointed phrases kept running through her brain.
I’ve devised another clever ploy … you and Guy will both suffer tragic deaths at Haviland’s hands … a man who may well be your half brother …
Her panicked brain could not sort out the meaning of those last words. He must mean Haviland. But she could not even recall the earl’s hair color. The one time she’d met