nodded and knelt beside him. “Shall I assume he melted into the night as is his wont?”
He gave his brother a rueful smile. “Not quite. He stole Grenleigh’s prize stallion.”
“Not very sporting of him, was it?”
He ignored the attempt at levity. “He had her, Charlie. God only knows what would have happened….” He looked down at Metcalfe’s body again, knowing that Henley had planned something of the same sort for her.
“But he doesn’t have her now,” Charlie said in a deadly calm voice. “And we shall see to it that he never has that chance again. Meantime, we will have to inform Wycliffe and our erstwhile host. ‘Twould seem the party is over.”
“Not yet.” Jamie passed his hand over Metcalfe’s face to close his eyes before he stood. “Let me take Eugenia and the Thayer girls away first. I need to talk to her before the Home Office interrogates her. And the Thayers do not need to be a part of this. My carriage should be waiting around front. Once I have them home, I will come back and we shall handle this as discreetly as possible. Oh, and tell Grenleigh he’ll have to find other transportation tonight, will you?”
Charlie helped him arrange the branches again to shield Metcalfe’s body from immediate discovery. “You know what this means, do you not?”
“That Henley is growing bolder. And that boldness must be a measure of his desperation.”
“He will only escalate from here. He’ll get careless and, sooner or later, we will catch him.”
Jamie clenched his fists. “He’ll come after Eugenia again.”
“And you, Jamie. He has already tried to stop you, and he won’t quit now.”
Gina hid behind her vivid yellow mask, careful to betray no outward sign of distress, though she’d been seething with suppressed anxiety. Where was James? Had Henley used his knife? Was James dead in an alley somewhere? And how had Henley known where to find her?
Hortense and Harriett had been teeming with questions when they’d seen how shaken she was. She’d settled for a version of the truth, telling them only that she’d been accosted in the gardens by a man in a costume. They had steadfastly flanked her since that moment, refusing dances and making inconsequential conversation to cover Gina’s lack of attention.
She could only watch the terrace doors and pray that James was safe.
She nearly collapsed with relief when she saw him come through the terrace doors and scan the ballroom until he caught sight of her. But the look on his face was not reassuring as he came directly to their little group. She managed a smile as he approached, certain he would not want her to give their business away.
Hortense sighed when he offered a slight bow. “Oh, here you are! Did you catch him?”
He glanced at Gina and she knew he was wondering how much she had told them. “I told Hortense and Harriett about the stranger who accosted me in the gardens before you arrived in time to rout him.”
“To be accosted in such a manner by a complete stranger!” Harriett said with an indignant look on her pretty face. “I told Gina we should report the incident to Mr. Morris at once, but she would not hear of it until you came back.”
He gave Gina a slight nod of approval, clearly relieved that she’d prevented the twins from spreading alarm though the gathering. “I will take care of that presently,” he told them. “But first I think I should take you home. I would be remiss in my duty as your escort to allow you to be present if there should be any problems.”
“Do you really think there will be problems? Could that dreadful man yet be lurking in the gardens?” Hortense asked.
“I believe I frightened him off.” He cast a reassuring glance in Gina’s direction. “But we should not take any chances. I’ve had my carriage brought round.”
Harriett sighed, whether in relief or disappointment, she could not guess. “You are too kind, sir,” she said.
They made a quiet exit and were safely on their way before any fuss could be made. The Thayer home was their first stop, and James handed the twins down from the carriage with a courtly flourish. Both girls thanked him graciously and quickly promised him dances the following night.
He settled himself beside Gina as the carriage started off again. Before she could ask, he posed a question of his own.
“Did he hurt you?”
She removed her mask and sighed. Where she had once been uncomfortable with James, she was now relieved to be alone with him. She hadn’t realized the strain she’d been under to keep her composure until that very moment.
“He was going to break my neck. When he saw you, he said he had a knife. What happened when you went after him? I was so afraid you’d fought and that he …” She began to shiver, unwilling to even entertain the notion that James might not have returned to her. That Henley could have killed him.
He took her hand between his to stop her trembling. “He’d stolen a horse and gotten away before I got to the stables.”
She frowned. “But you were gone so long.”
“There’s more, Eugenia. I have been searching for a man who could have helped us find Henley. Stanley Metcalfe. I found him dead beneath some bushes when I was returning to the house.”
Dead? But she’d just danced with him. There must be some mistake. “Are you certain it was Mr. Metcalfe?”
“He’d been knifed. I wanted you safely away before anyone could question you. Should anyone ask, you know nothing about the entire affair.”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I danced with him. He warned me that Henley wanted to kill me.”
“Metcalfe?” he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. “Was this something to do with your search for Henley?”
“I…I was to meet him tonight. To persuade him to help me. He’d been hiding from Mr. Henley, afraid to appear in public. Oh, I wish he’d never come to meet me.”
“I didn’t see you dance with him, Eugenia.”
The tone of his voice should have warned her. “He was dressed as a leper. But he disappeared so quickly after our dance that I was unable to question him further.”
“Leper? Was that not the costume Henley was wearing when he attacked you?”
She nodded. “I thought he was Mr. Metcalfe. I thought he’d come back to tell me …”
James groaned. “Blast it all! Henley killed Metcalfe and stole his costume to get close to you before you discovered who he was. But what did Metcalfe have to tell you?”
The hidden key burned its impression into the soft flesh of her bosom. If she told James about it, he would take it from her. He was so stubbornly determined to protect her from herself that she could not trust him. “Something more,” she improvised. “Perhaps where to find Mr. Henley. Or where he is living.”
“How did you
