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“Tell me your story first,” he said, walking with her into the drawing room.
“Irene and my father are here.”
He frowned. “Did something happen?”
She nodded, swallowing nervously. “Everyone knows I am Myers. The papers published it three days ago.” Rhys closed his eyes and passed a hand over his brow, swearing. Elizabeth touched his arm. “Rhys?”
“Elizabeth, I am sorry,” he said, his eyes looking grieved, puzzling her.
“I do not understand. Why are you apologizing?”
“I think my search might have led to your exposure.” He took her hand. “Forgive me.”
She shook her head. “I cannot blame you for this.” They sat down, and she relayed everything Irene and her father had told her, finishing with, “You were right. Going to London was a bad notion.”
Rhys pulled her into his arms. “We will find a way to resolve this. I promise you.”
“Did the man reveal anything?” she asked.
“He did, but it is not entirely useful.” Rhys’ voice was low and filled with disappointment. “He was employed to follow William and kill him. He did not know who employed him because he was given a good sum, and the man’s face was covered.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes as her hopes were torn. She had thought that they had reached the end of these miserable events. “What do we do now?”
“We continue living as if nothing odd is happening while we continue to investigate.”
“And the man who hurt William?”
“Has been taken to the Magistrate to answer for his crimes. He will not trouble anyone any longer.”
“I suppose there is something good in all this,” she whispered.
“Of course, there is.” He tightened his arms around her shoulders. “Being here with you is.” Elizabeth kissed the underside of his jaw and smiled.
* * *
“Is this true?” the Dowager asked holding a piece of paper up from the morning room doorway while Elizabeth was finishing breakfast with Rhys, her father, and Irene.
“Is what true?” Rhys asked in a jaded tone.
“Is Elizabeth Johnathan Myers?” she demanded, glaring at Elizabeth.
“Yes, I am,” Elizabeth replied. She and Rhys had not slept well the night before, and her head ached.
“I always knew you would disgrace—"
“That is enough!” Rhys yelled at the same time that her father rose. “Yes, my wife is Myers, and that does not change anything.”
“I will ask you to treat my daughter with respect,” Joseph asserted.
The Dowager pressed her lips together before turning and leaving the room. Rhys shook his head and stood. “Please excuse me.” He had business to attend to that morning while Elizabeth wanted to spend time with her family. He kissed her hand before leaving the room.
“Has she given you much trouble?” her father asked with concern.
Elizabeth smiled to reassure him. “Not very much, Father.” She stood. “Shall we move to the drawing-room?”
Elizabeth was happy to have her father and sister with her, but she worried about Rhys, who only had a bitter grandmother during a difficult time. Two hours later, she went to his study to see him, but he was not inside. She found Webster, and he told her that Rhys was out with his steward. A little restless, she rejoined Joseph and Irene, and the conversation about Irene’s wedding gave her the distraction she needed, and thus, the day passed quickly.
After dinner, she was with Rhys in his study, and he was telling her about the locations he had extended the search for the mysterious man when William knocked on the door. He was much better, and his bruises were healing well. Elizabeth excused herself when she perceived that he wanted to speak with Rhys in private.
She led Brutus, who had been playing with the fringes of the hearth rug, out, and they went out to the garden through the conservatory. It was well lit with lamps, and the evening was warm with the sky still holding the last light it had captured from the sun before it set. Brutus began to chase fireflies while she sat to enjoy the quiet moment.
When she heard footsteps, she thought it was Rhys and smiled, but her smile quickly faded when she turned and saw a large, dark shadow approaching her. Elizabeth leaped from her seat and reached behind her head to remove her hairpin with a rather sharp end. She wore it so she could wield it as a weapon when she needed to.
“Stay back.” She waved the pin toward the intruder, her heart pounding while her eyes darted about to find the best route to escape.
The man did not stop, nor did he appear to be intimidated by her weapon that she could stab him with. He wore a black cloak, and his face underneath the hood was not visible. It was as if a dark cloth was covering his face.
“Rhys!” she called, stepping back and turning to run. The man caught her shoulder and pulled her back, and when she tried to use her hairpin against him, he caught her hand and twisted it, causing her to cry in pain and the pin to drop. Then he covered her nose with a handkerchief.
Everything in her vision began to undulate, but Elizabeth still fought to remain conscious. Terror gripped her when the darkness came for her, and no matter what she did, she became powerless in its grasp.
