he found her door open. Even more troubling, the single bedstead had not been slept in. He held up the candle to see that the coverlet was neatly made, the feather pillow still plumped. Even the curtains were open to the night sky as if she hadn’t been in here since the afternoon.
Alarm gripped him. Had she left his house for good, then? Perhaps she had walked out in order to avoid another quarrel. Perhaps she’d gone away because her feelings for him weren’t strong enough to grant him another chance.
Yet a swift look around revealed that her trunk was still here, her clothing tucked in the drawers, her brush and comb on the dressing table. Even her favorite chip-straw bonnet was hanging from a wall hook.
He steadied his breathing. How foolish of him to think the worst. She might leave him, but she would never abandon Sophy without first badgering him to hire a new governess. Knowing Tessa, she would insist on interviewing the candidates herself.
Then where the devil could she be in the middle of the night?
The library. Yes, that was the one room in the house that held enormous appeal to her. At this very moment, she was likely curled up on the chaise reading something more interesting than a dry tome on Canada.
Guy hastened back down the stairs to the ground floor and went along the marble corridor. Much to his consternation, however, the library was dark and deserted, the ashes cold in the hearth. Could she have gone to his study? Or down to the kitchen? He was heading out the doorway again when Banfield came striding from the direction of the entrance hall.
The secretary bowed. “Your Grace, I wondered where you might be. Jiggs hadn’t seen you.”
“Yes, well, I’m home now. Good night.”
The last thing he wanted was fall into a conversation about some urgent estate business that needed tending. He had a number of vital questions to ask Banfield tomorrow, but not right now, not until Guy had had the chance to discuss his theory with Tessa. As he went past the man, however, Banfield did the unusual act of stepping into his path.
“Do pardon me, but this note was slipped under the front door just now. The directive on the outside said to deliver it to you at once.”
The oddity of that caught Guy’s attention. Letters came by the daily post or by a private courier who would place it directly into the hands of a footman. Perhaps one of the Runners wished to inform him of a development in the case.
He seized the note. Even before opening it, though, he knew it hadn’t come from Bow Street. The elegant script bespoke a gentleman’s education. When he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, something fell out onto the marble floor.
He reached down to pick it up. It was a curl of hair, soft and silken, buttercream blond. Tessa’s hair.
Infused by icy horror, he scanned the brief message. If you wish to see Miss James again, bring the pirate’s map to the coal cellar behind my house. Come at once, unarmed, else she will suffer the consequences. —Haviland
Guy stared down at the words. Though it had been a long time since they’d passed notes in school, he recognized that penmanship. The waxen seal had been an H, as well. If this was a trick, it was cunningly done.
Then again, the culprit was diabolically clever.
His fingers clenched into a fist around the note. Fear spawned a rage so powerful that he felt on the verge of explosion. Giving vent to it, however, could hinder Tessa’s rescue.
He forced himself to think. Haviland might be a scoundrel, but he’d never stoop so low as to endanger a woman. Having also uncovered the truth about his friend’s finances, Guy found it dubious to think that the earl would commit such a desperate act.
Of course, people often saw only the face that a man chose to show to the world. And the murderer was adept at hiding the dark secrets in his soul.
“Is something amiss, Your Grace?”
Guy looked into Banfield’s gray eyes. He’d never before noticed how utterly devoid of emotion they were. “Lord Haviland has abducted Miss James. He wants the map in exchange for her. I’m wondering how he ever got his hands on her.”
“Abducted! Perhaps she went out for a walk. Or received a note that lured her away. The bigger question is, what will you do?”
“Go after her, of course.”
Turning on his heel,