Page 31 of A Dangerous Engagement

“I suppose I should go before anyone comes looking for me.”

“I shall wait for you to go before exiting.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Mr.Merrick.”

She stared into his eyes, wondering how to take her leave. But the concern in the blue depths shook her more than seeing the dead body in the garden.

She turned and fled the room.

Philip searched the faces around the table that evening at dinner. Lady Blackstone and Mr.Ratley had returned from wherever they had disappeared to. Mr.Ratley looked rather grim, which was not his usual demeanor. Lady Blackstone’s eyes were bright, but so they often were.

Who amongst them had murdered Mr.Erickson? No one looked particularly altered, except perhaps Mr.Ratley. But anyone capable of stabbing someone in the back would be coldhearted enough not to appear remorseful.

Miss Mayson looked appropriately subdued as yet another guest asked her if she was the person who had discovered the dead man’s body.

“It was actually my aunt, Miss Appleby. She is now quite distraught and doesn’t wish to leave our room. I shall leave when dinner is finished to go and sit with her.”

“You will be missed, my dear,” Lady Blackstone said.

“I hope your aunt will be feeling better very soon,” someone else said.

“I can hardly blame her,” Mrs.Cartwright, the young wife, said. “I am sure I would have screamed for a full ten minutes if I had seen him lying there. Mr.Cartwright said it made his blood go cold to see him with his eyes staring straight up.”

“A dead man!” Lady Blackstone clutched her table knife and fork so tightly her knuckles were white. “Is there nothing else we might speak of?” Her lips were turned up at the corners, but her eyes were steely.

Mr.Ratley wiped his face with his handkerchief and tucked it back inside his jacket pocket.

“Will we still have the ball tomorrow night?” Miss Mayson spoke up, evoking surprised looks from several guests as they turned toward her.

Lady Blackstone’s smile seemed calmer as she said, “Yes, we will. Thank you for asking, Miss Mayson. A newly engaged couple should be afforded the opportunity to dance with each other.”

Mr.Ratley smiled at his fiancée, and Philip’s stomach turned. Was Miss Mayson having the same reaction? She couldn’t possibly want to marry him, even though she had only just accepted his proposal a few days ago. Did a woman fall in and out of love so quickly? But perhaps she had not been in love with him at all. Marriages so often were based not on love but on money and position.

Or perhaps she was more in love with Ratley than he knew. Would she prove more loyal to her country or to her fiancé? He should remember that her loyalty might well be divided when she was forced to choose. Would she betray him, revealing his identity as a spy to her fiancé and Lady Blackstone? But, no, Miss Mayson was obviously frightened of these people.God, please let me be able to protect her, should she ever need protection.

When Lady Blackstone announced it was time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room, Miss Mayson took her leave.

The men spoke of the dead body, but then the conversation turned to the fact that they would be waging war soon and it was no time to be faint of heart. And the more they talked of it, the more they all drank.

Philip made an excuse to go to bed early, and no one even seemed to notice. But instead of going to his own room, he went to Mr.Ratley’s.

Mr.Ratley’s room was down the corridor from his own. He moved quickly but quietly until he was standing in front of it. He tried the knob. It turned, and he slipped inside.

Philip let his eyes adjust to the dark room, but it was a cloudy, moonless night, so if he hoped to find any important documents or written information, he’d have to light a candle.

He pulled out the small candle he carried in his pocket along with some matches. When the candle was lit, he began looking through the papers on the small desk.

He found costs and estimates for supplies that the insurrectionists would need. Philip needed to find written plans, locations of weapon stockpiles, names of people and places. If he did not find something useful and concrete, his supervisors might not even believe his tales of a large gang of insurgents and their plans to kill Members of Parliament and the royal family. So far, he had no proof besides what he had heard. And his wounded pride would be nothing compared to the consequences to the entire country if he did not stop them.

But now he had the added worry of Miss Mayson and Miss Appleby. They were innocent, but he was the only person who knew they were. And if he was caught and killed, the authorities would believe they were as guilty as the others. Nor would they have anyone to help them escape from Lady Blackstone and Ratley.

But the way Miss Mayson had gazed up at him in the library closet, so trusting, so vulnerable ... so lovely ... His chest ached.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he scanned one paper after another.

When he’d glanced over every paper in the desk drawer, he placed them back in the same order he’d found them. There was nothing here of particular significance.

Suddenly, he heard voices. Were they coming from the corridor? He blew out the candle and darted to the door. He listened, plastering himself against the wall. His heart thumped, and he kept his mind alert and clear as the footsteps and voices neared ... then continued down the corridor.