Page 76 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
He did not glance toward the butler for instruction. He did not edge around guests with the nervous care of a servant afraid to spill, and his path made no sense. He was not stopping to serve anyone, but carefully and methodically making his way around the edge of the room.
As Kate faced the man again, she saw his eyes. They were not lowered like a servant’s should have been. They were observing with a cold purpose. The music faded away, sounding distant.
A maid crossed behind him, carrying a discarded velvet wrap over her arm. She stumbled just enough to brush his elbow. One glass tipped, spilling pale ratafia across his sleeve. The servant’s head snapped toward her. The tray lurched in his grip, the remaining glasses rattling precariously. The maid dipped at once in apology, but the man did not slow or even glance down at the stain.
He kept moving. Not toward the refreshment table or the cluster of ladies by the terrace doors. He was headed straight for the ministers of the Crown and Members of Parliament.
Kate’s grip tightened on James’s shoulder. “The man. With the tray. He is not serving the guests,” she whispered. “He is moving toward the men near the south wall.”
James tracked the servant’s path. “He’s headed toward Lord Cavendish.”
The music returned with a sudden rush, ending with a dramatic flourish, and James led her off the floor. He guided her directly to her brother, who would only give chase if necessary due to his injuries. “Be safe. I have only just found you.” James lingered for only a moment and then he was gone, Nicholas at his heels.
Every instinct screamed at Kate to follow, to keep him in sight, to refuse the plan that suddenly felt impossible to obey. But his task was to pursue the attacker, hers was to watch the room and exits in case there was a second assailant.
Across the room, William acted at once. He moved into Cavendish’s path, drawing the older man aside with some remark Kate could not hear. She gripped Hugh’s arm and forced herself to watch the room, searching for more potential members of the Circle.
Everything around her came into sharp focus. The raucous laughter of a group of men. The sour note of a violin. A mother urging her daughter toward a gentleman with painful determination. The cacophony of sounds was overwhelming. A door slammed in the corridor, causing the music to falter just for a beat. One word caught in her throat. James.
A short gentleman, dressed in a navy blue coat, spun at the sound of the closing door. He turned to the corridor James had disappeared through. Across the room, Westmarch was already waiting for a signal. She waved her fan near her right shoulder before closing it and pointing it toward the suspicious man.
Westmarch crossed the ballroom with unnerving efficiency, reaching the man before he realized he had been noticed. The man’s protest died on his lips when he saw the gleam of the hidden weapon. He went rigid, allowing Westmarch to lead him to the exit, the pistol between them. Their departure left Kate trembling. She closed her fan to hide the tremor before Hugh could see.
As the set ended and couples made their way off the floor, a voice sounded behind her.
“Lady Katherine, would you do me the honor of this next set?”
Lord Alverton could not have chosen a worse time. Propriety demanded she accept, yet everything in her rebelled at the thought. Not with James in danger. She swallowed and faced him. He crowded her space, his smile polished enough for a drawing room and cold enough to make her skin tighten.
“Lord Alverton.” She curtsied. “I apologize but you have caught me feeling faint. This room has become quite warm. Hugh was about to take me outside for some air.”
Alverton held out his arm. “Pray, allow me the honor of escorting you.”
She summoned a carefully composed smile as couples swished past them, heading toward the floor. “I thank you, but I prefer to have my brother accompany me.”
Alverton’s smile hardened. “As you wish. I only hope you do not come to regret your choice.”
Hugh frowned as Alverton spun and made his way to the other side of the ballroom. “I ought to teach him some manners.”
“Pay him no mind. He will find another lady to dance with soon enough,” Kate whispered. But Alverton’s abrupt departure had drawn curious whispers. Kate could hardly watch the room without comment if she was being watched.
The terrace doors stood open nearby. From there, she would have a clear view of the garden paths and the other exits. It was a better vantage point now than the middle of a crowded ballroom.
“It truly is stifling in here, Hugh. Let’s head to the terrace.”
Hugh offered his arm, his expression serious. “Right. Let’s keep up appearances.”
They escaped through the open French doors. The cool wind tugged at the hem of her silky cream gown, and the night air washed over her after the stifling heat of the ballroom.
A distant shout followed by a loud crack pulled them toward the railing. She ran to the edge, straining to see past the moonlit terrace to the far edge of the grounds. Two men were locked in a violent struggle. One was the servant with the tray. The other was a man she would know anywhere. She grasped the railing, the stone icy cold at her touch. Her world narrowed to thewhite flash of his shirt, the dark shape of his body, the assailant swinging for his head.
Kate gasped, but James dodged and drove his fist into the man’s jaw. He stumbled backward before falling to his knees. James was by his side in an instant, stripping away his own cravat and winding the long strip of linen tightly around the man’s wrists. A second figure stirred on the grass.
“That must be Nicholas,” Hugh said, standing at her shoulder. “It appears he is going to have a headache in the morning.” Nicholas had pushed himself upright, one hand pressed to his temple. He and James conferred in hushed tones, and James turned toward the terrace.
Even across the expanse, with only moonlight between them, he found her. All the noise and fear fell away. James was safe. He turned back to the prisoner who continued to thrash.
Hugh shifted beside her. “Will you be well enough if I go assist them? Nicholas is clearly done in, and James has his hands full.”
