She had thought Aidan was the right man, but it had been an illusion. A cruel trick of the moonlight.
Aidan was still tryingto figure out what he could say to Smythe when the butler knocked on the door to announce that Lord Filminster was here to see Lord Abbott.
His heart, which had only just begun to tentatively beat once more, stopped in his chest at this news.
Something has happened to Lily! Why else would Filminster visit me in Smythe’s home?
Aidan’s imagination ran riot. Was his sister injured? Dead? Had Michaels succumbed to his injuries after heroically saving his sister?
Smythe must have read his distress on his face.
“Show Filminster in.”
Jenson nodded and bowed to leave the room.
“I shall step outside so you can speak with your brother-in-law.”
Aidan nodded, numb to everything except the dread that something terrible had happened.
Shortly, Filminster entered the room and Smythe departed.
“What is it? Has something happened to Lily?”
Filminster walked over to the armchair next to him, taking a seat and shaking his head. “It is not Lily. But something may have happened to Trafford.”
Aidan shook his head in confusion. “Trafford?”
His brother-in-law nodded, pulling out a folded page from his coat pocket. “A woman delivered this to the duke’s home a little while ago. The butler could tell me nothing about her other than she had blonde hair, and he thought shewas young. A cape and hood covered her almost completely. She left this for me.”
Aidan reached out and took the note which had been written with a lead pencil. Bloody hell! If he never received another letter again, it would be too soon.
It is not Smythe. 1 of the other 3. Do not inform Peel until you hear from me. - Traf....
The writing was a sprawl, and Trafford had trailed off as if he had not the energy to complete his own name.
“Is this … blood?”
Drops of reddish brown marred the page, and Aidan considered the worst—that his clownish acquaintance and occasional mentor might be mortally wounded … even dead.
Filminster wearily ran a hand over his face. “We think so. Briggs and his men are searching for Trafford. I came to learn if you know anything about his whereabouts because no one has seen him in several hours and his father’s home was locked up except for the servants. Apparently, the Earl of Stirling left for the Continent on Crown business this morning.”
“By George! What the hell happened?”
Filminster sighed, falling back in his seat to stare at the crown moldings above them. “Trafford was most unhappy to learn of Lily’s encounter yesterday. He vented his frustrations that the investigations were moving too slowly and there must be a way to draw the killer out. I think … he did something, and it did not go well.”
“But he is alive.”
“Alive enough to write the letter, and send the girl to deliver it. But I am deeply concerned. Trafford is a good friend.”
“Do we inform the authorities? Meet with Peel?” Aidan did not personally know the Home Secretary, but perhaps he could assist.
“I discussed it with Halmesbury. The duke believes we must proceed with caution. Without knowing where Trafford is, or the danger he is in, we must respect his wish to wait for word from him.”
“Devil take this farce! I just accused Smythe and Gwen overheard me.”
“I gathered as much. Your wife bumped into me in quite a state. She accused me and Lily of deceiving her, which I suppose is fair enough considering … Dammit! I am sorry to have brought all this strife into your lives. When I found my uncle lying dead on the floor, I knew there would be trouble, but I never dreamed of involving so many people.”
Aidan shook his head. “You are family now … Brendan. You did not involve us, we involved ourselves to protect you. And, no matter your troubles with the late baron, he still deserves justice. Someone murdered him in his own study.” It was still difficult to call his brother-in-law by name, but considering the bizarre circumstances, Filminster needed the reassurance.
