She let go of the door and walked forward, studying the impressions. Two sets of men’s boot prints led down the corridor.
Increasingly quickly, she followed the trail. The earlier tickle of presentiment swelled to an icy sensation that intensified and urged her on.
The trail led to the door to the attic stairs. She pushed it open. She had to squint in the dimness, but as her eyes adjusted, she spotted the boot prints—both sets—continuing up the stairs.
She hurried up. On the first landing, she spotted a sight that made her blood run cold. Two pairs of boots had gone up the stairs, but only one had come down.
Yet she hadn’t seen the returning boot prints in the corridor… “He went down to the ground floor.” She stared blankly as realization bloomed. “He’s using a door downstairs to come and go.”
And she knew which “he” that would be.
She drew in a quick breath and rushed up the remaining flights. The door at the top giving access to the attic stood ajar. Her heart in her mouth, she pushed it open.
With no idea of what she might find, she walked in and, through the gloom, barely daring to breathe, looked searchingly around.
She spotted Godfrey slumped against the side wall to her right. With a gasp, she ran toward him, dodging the clumps of old boxes and discarded furniture that littered the floor between them.
As she neared, she saw that his hands, bound together, lay motionless in his lap. Worse, he remained unmoving, his head turned to the side, as if he was staring at something.
Horrified, she spotted a trickle of what could only be blood running from his hairline down the side of his cheek.
Most terrible of all, he hadn’t yet glanced her way.
She was nearly upon him when, finally, he lifted his head as if it weighed a ton and looked at her, then smiled—a weak travesty of his usual charming, dimpled smile.
“Oh—hello.” His eyes closed, and his lips pinched as he struggled to sit straighter.
Hello? She swooped down to crouch by his side and immediately fell to tugging at the knot in the cloth wound about his wrists. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
And yes, that was blood on his cheek, presumably seeping from a wound hidden beneath his dark-auburn hair.
Somewhat frantic, she glanced around. “And where’s Masterton?”
She looked at Godfrey, who was now frowning.
“Actually,” he said, speaking rather carefully, “it was he who knocked me out and tied me up. I wasn’t completely conscious at the time, but I could hear well enough, and he was the only one about.” As she tugged to loosen the knot, his eyes cleared, and his features hardened. “He led me up here, showed me those paintings”—he tipped his head toward where he’d been staring and winced—“and while I was distracted, he struck me down.”
“Good Lord!” She glanced to the side and noted the four frames stacked against the wall beneath the nearest window. Returning to her desperate task, she finally got the knot undone and fell to unwinding the strip of cloth. “What on earth does he think he’s about?”
“He wants to marry you, for a start.”
She humphed. “I’ve known that for years, but I won’t have him.”
“He doesn’t know about us, and he thinks you’ll eventually weaken, especially if he gets rid of me. And then once he’s your husband, he plans to somehow take control of the Hall and sell it.”
Startled, she looked into Godfrey’s face, and he nodded grimly. “He’s in debt and needs the money.”
She blinked, then pulled the cloth free of his wrists and flung it aside. “He’s the one who took the Albertinelli.”
Godfrey nodded again. “So he couldn’t have me visiting Hendall and asking who commissioned the forgery.”
“The…the bastard!” Still crouched, she glanced around again. “Where did he go? Do you know?”
“Not specifically.”
She turned back to find Godfrey pushing against the wall in an attempt to stand, and she quickly rose to help him.
He struggled to get his feet under him. “He muttered something about going to fetch someone to kill me so he could later swear he didn’t do it.”
She gave vent to a strangled sound and managed to get him upright to the point of leaning against the wall. She eyed him doubtfully. “Can you walk?”
He gave her a small smile. “Not yet—and if you try to help me, I’ll just fall on you.” Propping his shoulders against the wall, he caught her hands in both of his and locked his eyes on hers. “Ellie, you have to go and get help.”
“No.” She didn’t have to think; every instinct she possessed insisted she stay with him. She glanced at the door. “I’m not leaving you to face that blackguard alone.”
A stubbornness almost equal to hers filled his face. “But—”
“If I go”—she gripped his hands back—“and he returns with whomever he’s gone to fetch, what’s to stop him—”
She broke off, and they both looked toward the door as the sound of heavy footsteps mounting the stairs—not one pair but two—reached them.
“Too late,” Godfrey murmured.
Ellie slipped her fingers from his, then gripped his hand tightly and turned to stand beside him, facing the door. It was the only way into or out of the attic.
Masterton appeared beyond the doorway, but he was glancing back and waving at someone else to precede him.
“Come on.” He sounded harried and impatient. “All you have to do is finish him off.”
A man in a greatcoat loomed in the doorway, then Jeffers stepped into the attic.
Frowning, he immediately turned to face Masterton. “What?” Jeffers hadn’t seen Ellie and Godfrey, who were gaping at him from the end of the room. Instead, with an expression of utter bewilderment, he stared at Masterton. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s simple.” Masterton walked in and waved toward Godfrey, then he glanced that way and saw Ellie. Masterton’s jaw dropped. For a full five seconds, he goggled at her, then choleric color rushed into his face. “Damn you!” Fists clenching, he came striding down the room, pausing only to kick a box out of his way. “Damn it, woman! What the devil are you doing here?”
His voice had risen to a roar.
Ellie stared—as did Godfrey and Jeffers—as midway down the room, Masterton paused, hauled in a huge breath, then fell to pacing, ranting and raving incoherently. “Damned female! What now? I’ll have to—no, I can’t. She’ll never keep her mouth shut. But what then? What if—no, that won’t do. But if she’s gone…that might work. The others will fall apart. They’ll be ripe for the plucking. Yes, that’s the way forward.”
Abruptly, he halted and swung to face Ellie. Eyes narrowing to slits, he stabbed an accusing finger at her and strode closer, stopping a mere three paces away to jab that finger toward her face. “It’s your own damned fault! There’s nothing else for it. We’ll have to kill you, too.”
Ellie’s breath hitched.
“Wait.” Jeffers had followed Masterton and caught his sleeve. “We who?” Jeffers hauled Masterton around to face him.
His gaze on the two men, Godfrey took advantage of the distraction to test his balance. It was improving—not perfect, but it would have to do.