Lord Radnor's eyes became two wells of utter darkness in a face that was skull white. She perceived that she had shocked him deeply, that the thought of her being pregnant with another man's child had never even occurred to him.
Delicately Radnor's fingers withdrew from hers, and he stood. The cold barrel of the gun never left Lottie's temple as he moved behind her once more. She felt the perspiring flat of his palm catch slightly on her hair as he caressed it. "You've ruined everything," he said in a curiously flat tone. The pistol cocked, the heavy click reverberating against her skin. "There's nothing left for me. You'll never be what I wanted."
"No," Lottie agreed softly. "It was always futile." Cold sweat trickled down her face as she waited for him to pull the trigger. In the face of such absolute defeat, Radnor would surely kill her. But she was not going to spend the last moments of her life cowering in fear. She closed her eyes and thought of Nick...his kisses, his smiles, the warmth of his arms around her. Tears of regret and gladness prickled behind her lids. If only she could have had a little more time with him...if only she could have made him understand what he meant to her. A slow sigh escaped her, and she waited almost peacefully for Radnor to act.
At the sound of her exhalation, the barrel of the pistol lifted from her head. In the weighty silence that followed, Lottie opened her eyes, perplexed by the absolute stillness. Had she not heard the faint rasp of Radnor's breathing, she would have thought that he had left the room. As she began to turn, she was suddenly assaulted with an explosive sound that made her ears ring. She fell backward, her backside hitting the floor, while a curious hot splatter landed on her skirts and arms.
Dazed, she tried to catch her breath, and wiped numbly at the red droplets on her arms until they made long, wine-colored smears. Blood, she thought in amazement, and looked at Radnor's crumpled form. He was lying on the floor a few feet away from her, his body spasming in the throes of death.
Agreeing reluctantly that they would have to report to Morgan, Nick and Sayer went to Bow Street. Nick was in considerable pain, the strained muscles on his side burning, his broken fingers swelling beneath the handkerchief he had bound them with. He was tired and aching, and he could hardly wait to go home to Lottie.
As soon as they entered the comfortably shabby building on Bow Street, they headed straight for Sir Grant's office in the hopes that he had returned from the afternoon court session. The court clerk, Vickery, jumped up from his desk as Nick and Sayer approached. His bespectacled face registered astonishment at their filthy appearance. "Mr. Sayer, and Mr.... er, Lord Sydney..."
"We had a bit of an altercation near Fleet Ditch," Sayer said. "Is Morgan available to see us, Vickery?"
For some reason, the clerk gave Nick an odd stare. "He is questioning someone at the moment," he replied.
"How long will that take?" Nick asked with annoyance.
"I have no idea, Lord Sydney. The matter appears to be one of some urgency. Actually the visitor is your footman, my lord."
Nick shook his head as if he hadn't heard correctly. "What?"
"Mr. Daniel Finchley," Vickery clarified.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Instantly concerned, Nick went to Morgan's office and opened the door without knocking.
Morgan's face was grim as he glanced at Nick. "Come in, Sydney. Your arrival is well timed. What happened to your hand?"
"Never mind about that," Nick said impatiently. He saw that the visitor was indeed Daniel, his face bruised and one eye blackened, his livery torn. "Who did that to you?" he asked with a frown of concern. "Why are you here, Daniel?"
"I couldn't find you at home, my lord," the footman replied in agitation. "I didn't know what to do, so I came to tell Sir Grant. Something has happened to Lady Sydney."
A jolt of alarm went through Nick, and he felt his face turn white. "What?"
"Lady Sydney went to visit her family this morning, to fetch her sister. She bade me accompany her, and warned me that there might be some kind of struggle, as the Howards would not want to relinquish the girl." He fumbled in his pocket and produced a crumpled note, handing it to Nick. "Lady Sydney left this in the carriage."
Rapidly Nick scanned the note, his gaze lingering on the first line.
Please help me. Mama says that Lord Radnor is coming to take me away...
Cursing, Nick lifted his gaze to the footman's pale face. "Go on," he growled.
"Just a few moments after Lady Sydney and I arrived at the Howards' home, Lord Radnor appeared. He entered the house, and when he came out, he seemed to have taken leave of his senses. He had his arm around Lady Sydney's throat, and he forced her into his carriage. I tried to stop him, but his footmen overpowered me."
A wave of icy horror rolled over Nick. He knew the depth of the earl's dark obsession. His wife was at the mercy of the man she feared most...and he was not there to help her. The realization made him insane.
"Where did he take her?" Nick snarled, seizing the footman's coat with his uninjured hand. "Where are they, Daniel?"
"I don't know," the footman replied, trembling.
"I'll kill him," Nick raged, striding to the door. He was going to tear London apart, starting with Radnor's town estate. He was only sorry that a man couldn't be killed more than one time, as he wanted to visit a thousand deaths on the bastard.
"Sydney," Morgan interrupted harshly, moving so swiftly that he made it to the door at the same time that Nick did. "You're not going to rush out of here like a raving lunatic. If your wife is in danger, she needs you to keep a cool head."
Nick let out an animal-like growl. "Get out of my way!"
"I'm going to organize a search. I can dispatch four runners and at least thirty constables in approximately five minutes. Tell me the most likely places Radnor could have taken your wife, as you have more knowledge of him than I do." Morgan's steady gaze met Nick's, and he seemed to understand his bottomless terror, for his voice softened as he added, "You're not alone in this, Sydney. We'll find her, I swear it."
Just then, a brief tap sounded at the door. "Sir Grant," came Vickery's muffled voice, "you have another visitor."
"Not now," Morgan said curtly. "Tell him to return tomorrow."
There was a brief pause. "Er...Sir Grant?"
"What the hell is it, Vickery?" Morgan sent an incredulous glance at the closed door.
"I don't think you want to send this one away."
"I don't give a damn who he is, just tell him..." Morgan's voice trailed away as the door swung gently open.
Nick's anguished gaze shot to the visitor, and he nearly fell to his knees at the sight."Lottie."
Bedraggled and bloodstained, Lottie managed a wan smile as she saw her husband's stark white face. "I've been rather busy today," she said.
The sound of her voice seemed to unleash a flood of savage emotion. Groaning her name, Nick reached her in two strides. He hauled her against him in a brutal embrace that threatened to smother her.
"Blood-" he said incoherently, his large hand moving over her in a frantic search.
"It's not mine. I'm just fine, except for a few-" Lottie broke off, her eyes widening as she saw the bandaged hand he held at his side. "Nick, you've been hurt!"
"It's nothing." Nick tugged her head back, his tormented gaze raking over her face. His trembling fingertips traced the line of her cheek and jaw. "My God. Lottie..." As his panicked exploration continued, he discovered the bruises on her throat, and he uttered a cry of fury. "Holy hell! Your neck. He dared to...I'm going toslaughter that bastard-"
Lottie placed her fingers over his mouth. "I'm all right," she said gently. Feeling the way his large body shook, she drew her hand over his chest in a calming stroke. After the traumatic events of the past hours, it was so wonderful to be with him that her lips curved in a wobbly smile. She gazed into his dusty, sweat-streaked face with concern. "In fact, I believe I may be in better condition than you, my darling."