Audrey was almostready for bed. She was wearing her dressing gown over her nightdress, and Molly had already brushed her hair out. There were two small beds on parallel walls, a table and two chairs, a chest of drawers, and a washstand. Audrey had paced among the furnishing several times, until she was comfortable. Now she could hear Molly at the washstand, humming softly to herself as she often did.
But Audrey wasn’t tired, though she told Molly to blow out the candle. She kept pacing, remembering Robert’s description of why he’d entered the military. She’d known for certain he was leaving things out. What about the man who’d killed himself? How did that all fit in? She would have given anything to ask, but not in front of the Paley family.
Her thoughts were disturbed by a brisk knock at the door.
Before Audrey could even speak, Molly said, “Surely it could only be Lord Knightsbridge.”
“Perhaps we should ask?—”
But then she heard Molly open the door, a startled gasp, and the sound of something heavy hitting the wooden floor.
“Molly?” Audrey cried.
No one answered, though someone breathed heavily. The bolt slid home with a thump to lock them in. She slowly backed away, even as the first fear raised gooseflesh up her spine.
A chair skittered suddenly, and she heard a mild oath. A man’s voice, but not Robert’s. A thief! She started to shake, but she focused her mind. Had the intruder tripped? Then she remembered that the candle was out, and he couldn’t see.
The back of her legs hit the bed, and she dropped to her knees, hoping the man wouldn’t detect her location.
He was moving around in the dark. “Where are ye, wench?” he crooned. “I just want yer gold. Give it to me, and I’ll let ye go. I don’t hurt cripples.”
She didn’t believe that. Crawling very slowly toward the nightstand, she silently cursed her dressing gown as it tangled around her thighs. She froze when she heard a board creak nearby, felt the breeze of his passing, but he was heading toward the other bed—Molly’s bed. Oh, God, let her dear friend be all right, she silently prayed.
At last she reached the nightstand, and using her hand to feel along the top, she discovered the book Molly had been reading from, a hairbrush—and at last the candleholder, which felt solid. Lifting it carefully, she brought it to her lap, and yanked out the candle itself, setting it beneath the bed.
The other bed was shaken violently, then thumped against the floor, as if the intruder searched on top and beneath it for her. What was she supposed to do? If he came at her, she could wave her candlestick about and hope she hit him, but she couldn’t plan her own attack.
And then suddenly she remembered that Robert was right next door, the shared wall behind her bed. But if she screamed, the thief would know exactly where she was.
She had to take a chance.
Coming up on her knees, she slammed the candleholder into the wall above her bed, hoping to mislead him, then rolled away toward the table and chairs. The thief swore and stomped toward her.
8
Robert sat bolt upright, the thump on the wall next to him practically rattling his bed. And then he heard a scream.
Audrey.
He pulled his trousers on quickly, but that was all he made time for as he ran into the corridor and tried Audrey’s door. It was locked but couldn’t withstand his shoulder as he slammed into it. The door opened wide with a bang. The room was dark, but for the faint reddish glow of the coal fire. The oil lamp hung in the hall allowed him to see a man’s figure, then the sheen of his wide eyes reflected in the light. Where was Audrey?
As Robert advanced into the room he caught a glimpse of a body on the floor, and felt a shock of fear that surprised him. Then he saw another pale oval of a face peering out from behind the table. It all happened in a flash, for then the thief tried to race past him. Robert caught the man with a hard punch to the gut, then jerked him up by the front of the clothes to shake him.
“What have you done?” Robert demanded between gritted teeth. “If you’ve hurt them?—”
Audrey bumped into them in her haste to get to Molly. Robert waited, holding the man off his toes as he sputtered.
“Wrong room!” he gasped. “Mistake!”
Audrey stumbled to her knees beside her friend. “He hit Molly and went after me for my valuables.”
Robert punched him hard across the jaw. The thief sagged, but he caught him up again. “How is Molly?”
The maid moaned, “My head …”
“I don’t feel blood,” Audrey said, “but there’s a nasty lump.”
With one hand, Robert flung open the door to the small balcony, then tossed the man over the rail. He heard a scream as he hit, then watched him stagger to his feet in the torch-lit yard and hobble into the darkness, dragging a leg behind him.
