Winnifred paced her bed chambers. Her night rail tangled at her ankles when she spun, and she kicked at the hem. Where was he? The last log in the fireplace popped, and Winnifred glared at it. Sin should have been back hours ago, following through on his promise to make her pay for the dance she forced upon him. She’d waited, first curious at his delay, then impatient, and now distracted beyond reason.
Something must be wrong. It shouldn’t take this long to present a man with evidence against him and hear his defense.
She clutched the thick bedpost. Unless he’d put up some sort of fight. Abercairn had brought seven servants with him, plus his friends among the guests. Enough men to be able to cause trouble.
She strode to her dressing room and pulled a thick coat from the closet, pulling it on over her night dress and wrapper. She grabbed a lamp and marched out of her room and down the steps to the main floor.
The castle was eerie this time of night. All of the lights turned down. No servants cheerily bustling about. Perhaps she should rouse Horatio and Banquo from their sleeping spot in the kitchen. She would feel better with their large presences by her side, even if they were cowards at heart.
And once she woke them there would be no need for them, she reminded herself. Because they’d wake half the castle, and she wouldn’t be wandering the halls alone.
Lengthening the wick on her lamp, Winnifred squared her shoulders and started searching rooms. Everything in the south wing was quiet, and she turned for the east one. Drawing room, empty. Library, empty. Her parlor, as quiet as the grave. She should—
Winnifred paused, squinting. Was that a candle glowing down the next corridor? She set the lamp down on a hall table and crept to the hallway corner. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before peering around the edge of the wall.
A figure knelt in front of the door to her husband’s study, probing at the lock. A figure wearing a primrose coat.
Winnifred tiptoed up behind him. She reached out to tap the earl’s shoulder.
Summerset whirled, knocking her hand away. He slid his palm to her throat, squeezing so tight neither sound nor air could pass.
She had a moment of panic, but as quickly as he struck, Summerset released her and stepped back. “I apologize,” he said in a low voice. “You are unharmed?”
Winnifred rubbed her neck, her heart beat slowing from a gallop to a trot. She nodded. “Is my husband in there?” she whispered.
“Yes, he and Sutton.” Kneeling again, he pushed the candle into her hand. “Hold this and be silent.” The earl pressed his ear to the keyhole, listening intently. He tried the latch, but the door didn’t budge. Pressing his lips together, Summerset shook his head. “I hear nothing. I hadn’t expected Dunkeld and Sutton to be so quiet in their interrogation, nor for it to take so long.” A wrinkle creased between his eyebrows.
Winnifred looked over her shoulder but saw only black. “Are you certain he is within? He should have been abed an hour ago.”
“Questioning a suspect can take time,” he murmured. “It’s delicate work, best not rushed.” Rising, he eyed the door as though it were a puzzle.
Sweat gathered at the small of her back. “Yes, but my husband isn’t delicate. Nor patient.”
She and Summerset shared a look, her worry mirrored in his eyes.
“Blast it all.” He squared off against the door. “Stand back,” he warned a second before he launched a front kick, the heel of his boot splintering the wood near the handle. He kicked again, the crack as startling as a gunshot, and the door bounced inward.
Into complete darkness.
No, not complete. Winnifred followed Summerset in. The candles had all either burned out or been snuffed out, but a faint, silvery light came in through the open window.
“This isn’t possible.” Summerset stalked around the room, examining each nook and corner. “I watched Dunkeld and Sutton enter this room, and they never left.” He pressed against the bookcase. “Any servants’ passages?”
Winnifred shook her head before realizing he couldn’t see her. “No, at least none that I’ve been told about.” A book lay face down on the rug, its pages bending, and Winnifred knelt to retrieve it. The light from her candle caught on a dark stain on the cream rug. “Summerset! Is this … blood?” She brought the light as close as possible.
He squatted down and ran his finger over the mark. He nodded, grim. “How in the blazes did they get out of here without my seeing?”
“The window.” Winnifred hurried over. “There’s no other option.”
“Look at the size of that window and think on the size of your husband’s shoulders.” Summerset fisted his hips. “Not likely.”
“Likely or no, it’s the only option. Look!” A bit of fabric clung to the raised head of a nail in the window’s frame. “Someone went through here.”
Summerset pulled it free and held it to her light. His nostrils flared. “Your husband and Sutton would have to be willing to squeeze through this space. Or unconscious. They damn sure couldn’t have been forced through if they put up a fight.” He stared out the window, his features hardening, his gaze sharpening like a hawk on a hare.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she didn’t know if it was fear for her husband, or for whoever would have to face the Earl of Summerset.
“Go back to your room,” he told her. “I’ll take care of this.”
“You think you can search the entire grounds of Kenmore by yourself?” Her mind whirled, thinking where two large, angry men could be held captive.
Or where their bodies might be stored/hidden.
Bile rose up her throat, choking her. She forced away the panic. “Let’s consider this logically. We’re agreed Abercairn has them?”
“Lady Dunkeld.” Summerset gripped her elbow. “Winnifred. Go upstairs.”
She jerked free. “Why? Because a woman couldn’t be of any assistance in this situation?”
“No, because your husband will murder me if any harm comes to you.”
Her temples throbbed, and she rubbed them with her fingers. “Let’s worry about that when we find him.” She wouldn’t contemplate the alternative. That they might not find him, at least not alive.
She dug her nails into her palm. “Are we agreed we focus on Lord Abercairn?”
Summerset’s gaze on her was long, too long for the urgency of the situation, but at the end of his assessment, he nodded. “We’re agreed.”
She paced to the cold fireplace and strode back. “And he must have had assistance to subdue Sin and Sutton?”
“Absolutely.”
She made the march to and fro again. “Abercairn would need to hide their … their bodies until he had taken his leave of Kenmore. He wouldn’t want to be stuck here for any investigation.”
Summerset took his candle from her and lit another. “I’m disappointed. For such an analytical mind, you’ve not considered all the options.”
His sneery tone made her skin flush with anger. A feeling much more pleasant than the desperation that jockeyed to claim her in its grip. Which was probably his intent. Even knowing that, Winnifred couldn’t keep the pique from her voice. “What’s that?”
“That Abercairn would want the information your husband and Sutton hold, as much as we wanted his intelligence.” Summerset prowled into the hallway. “He’ll keep him alive. At least until he gets the answers he wants.”
Winnifred hurried after him. “Until then?” They stopped at a door that led outside.
“Until then we search.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ll follow what tracks I can. Rouse the servants. Tell them their master has gone missing. We’ll need every set of eyes we can get.”