On soundless feet, she rounded the corner to the kitchen, which was also deserted. The dowager must have returned then—no servant would withdraw before she had. Peering into each of the rooms she passed and noting each one empty with no visible sign of broken glass, Sarani halted when low voices trailed from the vicinity of the drawing room.
She frowned and then picked up the pace as Her Grace’s imperious voice cut through the silence. “What do you want?” she asked.
Sarani whirled, but the dowager duchess wasn’t addressing her. Flanked by two footmen, she stood outlined by the glow of the light coming from the drawing room, still dressed for the evening. Someone replied, but Sarani could not make out the words.
“I’ve sent for the police,” she said calmly. “If you don’t want any trouble, then why have you broken in?”
Sarani inched forward, her blood chilling as the reply came. “I want only the princess.”
“The who?” the dowager duchess asked.
“Princess Sarani Rao. Her cousin would like to have a word with her.”
Everything in Sarani’s body froze. Vikram had found her, and she had no doubt that the only words he meant to have would be at the point of a pistol or edge of a blade. But she could not allow the dowager or, heaven forbid, Ravenna to get caught in the crosshairs of her cousin’s quarrel with her. Sarani had only to hold off the uninvited guests until the police arrived.
“What’s all the hubbub?” Ravenna asked, approaching from the opposite end of the foyer and peering into the room. “Who are you?”
Fear flicked across the older woman’s face as she gestured for one of the footmen to safeguard her daughter. Sarani sucked in a deep breath, ready to announce her presence, when the dowager angled her head to look directly at her. Sarani could feel the panicked blast from those irises where she stood. Closing the distance between them, she opened her mouth to tell both of them that everything would be well, when an odd expression crossed the duchess’s face. Shame? Dread? Both?
“She’s here,” the dowager duchess said.
“Mama,” Ravenna cried as understanding flashed in her copper eyes. “What are you doing?”
The duchess firmed her lips. “Protecting this family.”
“Sara is family,” Ravenna said, yanking on the footman’s grip. “Let me go, you lout!”
“She has brought this trouble to our doorstep.”
“You can’t just hand her over,” Ravenna protested. “He’ll hurt her.”
“I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
“Mother!” Ravenna screamed. “Stop this!”
Shaking her head, the duchess let out a ragged gasp. “I’ve already lost a husband and two sons. I will not lose you as well. I will protect you at any cost, even if it means you hate me for it.”
“Please, Mama.” Ravenna resorted to begging. “Rhystan will hate you for this, too.”
“I will have to take that chance,” the dowager replied.
Deep down, Sarani understood the protective instinct that was driving the dowager, but the justification didn’t help much. Gritting her teeth, Sarani slid her hands into the false pockets sewn into her gown, reassuring herself that her blades were there and ready. A short, wiry man came into view then, one whom Sarani did not recognize. Though why would she? If he was Vikram’s assassin, she wouldn’t know him.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I want only to talk,” the man said.
She huffed a breath. “Is that why you’ve been following me? Did you murder my father?”
The gasps from the other end of the foyer were loud.
“No,” he said, but Sarani was sure he was lying. He’d been paid to assassinate both of them, and he was here to finish the job. She had to think! This man would kill without blinking.
Suddenly, Ravenna broke free of the footman’s hold and rushed forward, hurtling into the unsuspecting man. “Run, Sara!”
The duchess’s scream was the only warning before the man spun and grabbed Ravenna by the hair, putting her under a deadly looking blade. Sarani’s heart slammed into her throat as Ravenna’s fearful eyes met hers.
“No one move,” the assassin snarled to the duchess. “Tell them to stay back, or I’ll slit her throat.”
The dowager duchess let out a keening cry and lifted a hand, waving back the footmen and stalling the other servants who had been drawn to the noise. “Please…don’t harm her.”
Sarani growled. “She is the daughter of a duke and the sister of one, you fool. Spill one drop of her blood, and the entire might of the British Crown will be on your employer’s head,” she said, walking forward with slow, measured steps. “Trust me, Vikram does not want that kind of attention or retaliation.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. Sarani considered her options. She couldn’t run, not without leaving Ravenna exposed. And who knew where the police were or if the duchess had had the wisdom to summon her son at the same time.
“I’ll go with you,” she said. “Just let her go.”
“Sara, no!” Ravenna cried.
She nodded, hands wide, easing forward. “Yes. I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me. Your mother is right. I brought this to your doorstep. It’s my problem.” Her gaze met the man’s, and she reached out a hand. “Me for her. I’m the one you’re here for. Do we have an agreement?”
Without hesitating, he shoved Ravenna to the side, and she scrambled away. Exhaling unhurriedly, Sarani braced herself and let her energy flow from her center as her weapons master had taught her. She would have seconds, if that, to extricate herself. From the look in his eyes, he intended to finish the business right here. Unlike Ravenna, she did not have a powerful duke on her side, and she doubted that any of these footmen would come to her aid.
The moment his fingers closed around her wrist, she moved, twisting one arm down and reaching into the slit in her gown with the other. One would think that her fingers would get tangled, but she’d practiced for hours until the act of getting the hilt in hand was second nature. She sliced her blade across his chest, leaving red in its wake, and leaped back at the same time.
“Get Her Grace and Lady Ravenna out of here!” she shouted to the gaping footmen.
As if they’d been in a trance watching her, they jolted into action. She didn’t take her eyes off the assassin who had brought up a second razor-edged blade to his bleeding chest. She retrieved her second kukri from its sheath. They circled each other like predators in the water.