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“I am surprised to see you up and about so early after such a late night,” Father observed.
“Oh, I have called on five houses and seen His Grace in the gaol already,” Edwina informed her father as he sat, taking a plate of breakfast foods. “We were just planning how to get His Grace out of prison.”
“What is the plan so far?” Father asked, shoving a biscuit in his mouth.
Lizbeth stood and started putting a plate together, handing it to Edwina as she said, “Her Grace was just talking about how to lure out the monster.”
“What if I posed as the unsuspecting woman?” Edwina suggested. “Someone could lay in wait, and as soon as the monster struck, we could capture him.”
“Not a chance,” Father protested, nearly choking on his biscuit. “That sounds terribly risky.”
“You would have to have proof of his attack,” Simon continued, his frown deepening. “Proof of him having hurt you in some way. Else he could claim that he was falsely captured.”
Edwina swallowed hard. “What if we told the constable of our plan? Could we have him there to bear witness to the attack?”
“That would be a smart idea,” Simon agreed.
“That is if you even do it!” Father spluttered. “This is too dangerous. What would your husband say, putting yourself at unnecessary risk?”
“It is completely necessary!” Edwina cried. “His Grace could be imprisoned forever, transported, or even hung for these supposed crimes. We could have plenty of men in hiding to protect me. What is a little of my risk for my husband’s life?”
“It is too dangerous,” Father protested again.
“I will go out in the dark every night for as long as it takes to draw this monster out,” Edwina said through clenched teeth. She stared down at Simon and her father. “Will you be there to keep me safe or not?”
Simon shook his head softly not in denial but in disbelief as he replied, “I do not think this is a good idea, but I will be there to protect you.”
“We must work multiple angles at once,” Edwina continued breathlessly. “We have a lot of work to do. Simon, get the solicitor and talk to him about the legal angle of getting His Grace released. Lizbeth, would you help me prepare for our first outing? Father, I need you to speak with the groom and the other staff to make arrangements for the carriage and weapons.”
“I cannot believe I am letting you do this,” Father grumbled.
“Will you help me?” she asked her father directly.
“Of course, I will,” he promised. “But that does not mean that I have to like it!”
* * *
After making their plans, Edwina retired to her room to rest for a while, drained from the day. She slept soundly at first, but at some point, her dreams turned into nightmares. In her dreams, a masked man wrapped his hands around her throat, only for the mask to fall away to reveal Fergus’ scarred face.
She sat up straight in bed, panting, terrified by her dream. Her heart raced in her chest, and she looked around in the dark room as though an intruder might be waiting for her to awake. Seeing that darkness had fallen, she got out of bed and rang for Lizbeth. Nervous that she had overslept and they had missed their chance, she paced the room until Lizbeth came.
“So glad you were able to sleep!” Lizbeth said, heading at once for the armoire. “We debated waking you for an early supper but decided we could just bring you a tray before you head out.”
“What time is it?” Edwina asked.
“Only a little past ten in the evening now,” Lizbeth replied, laying out Edwina’s dress. Edwina stared at the dress Lizbeth had laid out and shook her head.
“Do we have the one that His Grace gave me?” Edwina asked.
Lizbeth looked at her skeptically. “Yes, I packed it on a whim.”
“Let me wear that one tonight,” Edwina told her softly. “I think it would flatter me well.”
Obliging, Lizbeth put the dress she had laid out back in the armoire and pulled out the pale lavender dress that Fergus had bought Edwina for their wedding, cut in the latest fashion and made from the most exquisite fabric and lace. As Edwina put it on, she felt a strange sense of power rush over her.
“I suppose this is what ladies must feel when they say their clothes are like a soldier’s uniform,” she said, admiring the way the dress hugged her curves. “I feel like I could do anything I wanted in this dress.”
“Including surviving an attack from a vicious murderer?” Lizbeth quipped.
