His words sent a chill slithering through Ellen, precisely as he’d intended.
“Ah.” Louisa gave a tiny nod, barely moving her head. “The mask was yours. I take it you strangled Rose Kirkpatrick because she recognized you.”
She’d touched a nerve; the man’s breathing changed, becoming harsher. “And because she failed in the one task I’d entrusted to her. Rose,” the chilling voice continued, “was inadequate in many ways.”
He paused, then said in what almost passed for a conversational tone, “In case you’re wondering, your menfolk are chasing hares that, with luck, will lead them far to the north.” He chuckled, deep and low. “They were so intent on catching me, it was easy to draw them off.”
Ellen swallowed. If he was to be believed, and she suspected in this case he was, then she and Louisa couldn’t hope for rescue by Drake and Christopher, and Toby and the others in the house knew nothing of what was occurring among the shrubs.
To escape the fiend’s hold and identify him, she and Louisa would have to act on their own.
Ellen didn’t wait to think of everything that could go wrong. Angling her eyes sideways, she caught Louisa’s gaze and mouthed, “Ready?”
Louisa read her lips, and her eyes flared wide.
The fiend was still gloating over his cleverness. Ellen seized the moment and slumped, boneless, as if she’d fainted.
The mastermind swore, but her sagging weight drew down his right elbow—dragging his right hand away from Louisa, forcing him to release her.
Ellen snapped open her eyes and fixed them on Louisa, who, freed, had staggered forward. “Run!”
Louisa didn’t make the mistake of pausing to look back. Wrapping an arm protectively beneath her bulging belly, she raced onward along the path. In seconds, she’d vanished, and as she ran onto the lawn, even her footsteps ceased.
The mastermind uttered an obscenity, then viciously hauled Ellen upright. The arm about her throat pressed hard. He brought the knife up and laid it along her cheek. “I should cut you for that.”
Her heart thundering, her mouth dry, Ellen managed to force out, “I don’t like pain. If you cut me, I’ll scream and faint, and then where will you be?”
He froze, and she realized what, in her words, had given him pause. “You can kill me,” she said, “but then how will you get away?”
He hissed through clenched teeth and shook her. “You,” he grated in her ear, “are too clever by half. But you’re right. In fact, one of you is preferable to two, and your friend didn’t stick around long enough to hear where we’re off to.”
But Louisa would figure it out, just as Ellen had. Having come this close to the house, the mastermind had limited options for quitting the scene, and if he’d listened to their discussion in the folly—as she now suspected he had—he would have heard Christopher say that the only sure way to leave Goffard Hall without being stopped and questioned was via the main drive.
That was why he’d drawn Drake and Christopher off, then circled around and come after her and Louisa. It was also why he wouldn’t kill her; he needed her as a hostage to secure a carriage or horse.
He started forward, propelling her ahead of him, almost on her toes. Within a few paces, she felt sure she’d guessed right; he was making for the stable.
He uttered a huff of dismissal. “Regardless, with any luck, with your friend in her present condition, by the time she reaches the house, she’ll be too hysterical for anyone to make any sense of what she says.”
Ellen almost smirked. She couldn’t imagine Louisa hysterical.
She debated telling him who “her friend” was—to see if he recognized the name—then decided the course of wisdom lay in telling him as little as possible. That way, whatever relief came would be a surprise to him.
They covered the distance to the stable yard in far too little time.
He halted her in the shadows of the trees, far enough back so no one would see them, and there was no chance anyone could stop him from slitting her throat and vanishing into the darkness.
Having an excellent imagination has its drawbacks.
Although there were many carriages cluttering the stable yard and lined up along the drive, there was no sign of any horses, nor of any of the stablemen. Ellen assumed they were inside the stable, from which the glow of lanternlight spilled through the open doorway.
“Damn!” the fiend muttered. “I thought the party would be over and the idiots long gone.” He paused; when he spoke again, his tone was hard and clipped. “No matter. Now, listen well.” He spoke by her ear. “I don’t know who you are, nor do I care. I need to leave and return to London, and given your foolishness in freeing your friend, I need to leave sooner rather than later. I require a good horse, saddled and bridled, so in a moment, we’re going to walk to the stable door.
“What you need to do,” he continued, “is walk calmly into the stable and order a horse to be saddled and bridled for me. I will remain close by your side throughout. If you perform as I require, when I step away to mount the horse, you will still be alive. If, however, you fail to secure what I want, I assure you I will have no compunction whatsoever in driving this knife”—once again, he brandished the blade before her face—“through your ribs.”
He paused to let his words sink in; they effectively chilled Ellen to the bone. Then in an even tone, he asked, “Do you understand?”
She nodded, then added “Yes” for good measure.
“Excellent.” He lowered the hand holding the knife, released the pressure on her throat, and stepped to her left, taking a position behind her left shoulder.
She felt the prick of the dagger through her gown, piercing between her stays just to the left of her spine as he stated, “I believe we understand each other.”
She didn’t try to glance at his face. If, as they suspected, he belonged to the nobility, seeing it would likely mean nothing to her.
Her forbearance amused him. “I approve,” he crooned, once again bending close to breathe the words in her ear. “There really is no point in trying to identify me—much better for you if you don’t.”
She pressed her lips tight, stifling the urge to say something to banish the smug look his tone suggested was wreathing his face. She had no option but to dance to his tune and pray Louisa had alerted Toby, that they’d realized the fiend was making for the stable, and rescue was on its way.
“Now”—his voice turned brisk—“let’s forge on. I need that horse.”
He guided her forward, using the dagger’s tip to enforce his edict.
Ellen raised her head and stepped out purposefully for the stable; she had to play her part and do exactly as he wanted until help arrived.
As the stable rose before them, she tipped her head toward him and said, “Just so we’re clear, I have no wish to die.”
Tonelessly, he replied, “We’ll see.”
She neared the stable doorway and felt, within her, the desire to live—to claim a life as Christopher’s wife—rise like a tidal wave within her.
It gave her strength, mental and physical, and stiffened her spine; regardless of what happened with the mastermind, she would survive.
As if the fiend sensed some change in her, he glanced sharply at her and murmured, “Careful.”