Kate nodded. Though every instinct told her to keep him beside her, she would not ask him to stay when James needed him more. “Yes, go. I shall return inside.”
Hugh hesitated, then hurried down the terrace stairs. Kate turned toward the ballroom doors, but movement at the far edge of the terrace caught her eye. A beautiful, dark-haired woman slipped down the side staircase with her head lowered, vanishing into the narrow strip of darkness between the terrace and garden wall. Recognition struck. It was the maid with the velvet wrap, gone before anyone could think to question her.
It had to be the Veil. Kate had not guessed her identity in the ballroom. She had seen only a maid with a wrap and a ready apology. Before Kate could decide whether to call out to her, a smooth voice stopped her.
“Lady Katherine.”
Alverton stood just beyond the terrace door, between her and the light spilling from the ballroom, all politeness and wounded pride. He blocked the doorway, cutting her off from the lights and familiar faces inside. The wind pressed cold fingers through the lace at her sleeves.
Her fingers tightened around her fan. “Lord Alverton.”
“May I escort you through the gardens?”
“No, thank you. I was just returning inside to speak with my parents.”
“You seem determined to refuse every offer I make this evening.”
“Then perhaps it would be for the best if you stop making them.”
His smile hardened. “Be careful, my lady. A woman never knows when she may need the protection of a man she has dismissed.”
Cold slid down Kate’s spine. To pass him, she would have to come within his reach. She would not give him that chance.
“Good evening, Lord Alverton.” She gave a small curtsy and moved toward the second set of French doors, only to falter. On the other side stood Lady Crofton and a cluster of the season’s most relentless gossips, their heads bent together.
If Kate entered the ballroom now, windblown and alone with Lord Alverton on the terrace behind her, Lady Crofton would turn the scene into scandal. Every drawing room in London would hear it by morning. She could not run to James and Hugh. They were occupied with the prisoner, and her arrival would only draw their focus from where it needed to be. Alverton still blocked the nearest doorway.
She turned away from the light and toward the stone steps. A narrow path ran along the side of the terrace, hidden from both moonlight and torches. If the Veil had gone that way, it might lead somewhere useful, perhaps to the edge of thegrounds where Alex kept watch. Anywhere was better than putting herself within Lord Alverton’s reach or drawing the men’s attention away from the prisoner.
Kate ventured several paces down the path, the wind pulling tendrils of her hair loose from their pins. Behind her, gravel shifted by the terrace stairs. Kate stopped, every sense straining. Another step came, closer this time. Then nothing.
She did not turn. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her alarm. Instead, she quickened her pace along the narrow path, gravel whispering beneath her slippers as the ballroom music thinned behind her. Every nerve stood on end. A dark figure shifted just off the path, and in that moment she was struck with an inescapable certainty.
She had followed the wrong shadow.
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind. Another arm locked around her waist and dragged her backward into the darkness beside the terrace. Kate drove her heel down hard. Her captor grunted and his hold slipped just enough. She screamed only one word and prayed the wind would carry it far enough.
“James!”
Chapter 25
James
James’s blood ran cold as Kate’s scream tore through the night, splintering light and music like shards of glass. He felt the sharp prick of each one.
“Kate!” Her name was ripped from his chest.
He spun toward the terrace where she had been moments before, but only shadows remained. Shock held him for half a heartbeat before he turned to Hugh and Nicholas.
Hugh did not hesitate. “Go!”
James broke into a run toward the terrace, leaving his two friends to watch over the assassin.
Chill wind nipped at him as he rounded the bushes and reached the terrace steps, his chest heaving. He searched the gardens—torchlight, dark hedges, empty paths. Laughter and music drifted through the terrace doors, mocking him with their normalcy.
Where was Kate?
Panic surged, sudden and blinding. He forced air into his lungs as he scanned for signs of her. Only one impossible truth remained. Kate was gone.
