Page 74 of Mesmerized

They went next into Irina’s room, finding it empty, as well, and after that into Mr. Babington’s, thinking that perhaps she had come in to check on her friend. There was no one there except Babington, lying still and silent in his bed, his eyes closed. The maid who had been assigned to sit with him looked up and started to rise from her chair at their entrance, but Stephen waved her back down.

“How is he doing?” Stephen asked. He, like Olivia, had been in to check on Babington every day since his accident, but there had been no change in him.

There still was not. The maid shook her head, saying, “He’s the same as ever, my lord. The doctor should be here before long, if you want to speak to him.”

Stephen nodded, and he and Olivia left the room. They looked down the hallway, where the others were advancing toward them room by room, obviously finding them empty.

“What about the unused rooms?” Olivia asked, gesturing toward the smaller corridor that crossed the one in which they stood.

Around the corner, along the other hallway, lay several guest rooms, presently not in use. Stephen shrugged. “I suppose we must, to be thorough, and then we’ll start on the upper floors. I am beginning to think, though, that she might have wandered into the unused wing of the house and has gotten lost.”

“Yes, or perhaps it is part of some elaborate trick.”

Stephen glanced at her, a sardonic smile on his lips. “Why, Lady Olivia, do I detect a note of cynicism in your voice?”

“A veritable symphony, where Madame Valenskaya and her daughter are concerned.” Olivia replied.

His eyes were warm as they rested on her face. “I have a great desire to kiss you right now, my little cynic.”

Olivia’s face warmed under his regard, and she glanced away, murmuring, “You make me forget what we are supposed to be doing.”

“Sorry,” he replied in a voice that held little regret as he took her arm and started around the corner.

They looked into the nearest room, then the one across the hall from it. The other members of their search party were just coming around the corner to join them when Stephen opened the door of the chamber containing the secret room.

The door into the secret room stood open.

Stephen stepped inside, Olivia coming in after him, then turned and stuck his head out the door. “Rafe. Keep the others here.”

Rafe nodded as Stephen closed the door and turned. Outside they could hear the others’ voices rising in query and Rafe’s firm reply.

Stephen and Olivia looked at each other, then at the opening in the wall. The small room beyond was utterly silent. Stephen started quietly for the door, Olivia right behind him. There was a sick feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

He stepped inside the room, and despite her dislike of the place, Olivia moved in after him, then drew in a sharp breath as she saw what lay inside.

The gold casket was not on its small table, but on the floor on its side, treasures spilling out of it, only inches from the outstretched hand of the still body beside it. The woman who lay there was obviously dead, but it was not the stocky form of Madame Valenskaya that lay on the floor, face contorted in the rictus of death.

It was the slender body of Pamela St. Leger.

* * *

“GOOD GOD.” FOR A long moment, Stephen simply stared at Pamela, not moving.

Then he crossed the few steps to her body and knelt down beside it. He reached over and curled his fingers around Pamela’s wrist, automatically searching for a pulse, although the coldness of her skin made it clear there would be none.

“She is dead,” he said quietly.

“Stephen...” Olivia went to him, sympathy overcoming the rising nausea in her stomach. This woman, so beautiful in life, now so pitifully dead, had been a woman he had loved madly. However much Pamela had hurt him, she knew regret and pain must be eating at him now.

“I am so sorry,” she told him, laying her hand on his shoulder.

“I never would have dreamed...” he said in a low voice.

Olivia forced herself to look down at the body. Her stomach lurched, but fortunately it did not revolt. Pamela’s face was contorted; it was no great stretch of imagination to say it was a mask of terror. She saw, though it scarcely registered, that there was no blood upon her anywhere, nor any blood upon the floor.

She shivered. The room was unbearably cold, and its heavy atmosphere lay on her like a weight.

Stephen stood up and slipped his arm around her shoulders, and they walked from the room. Olivia put her arm around his waist, and they stood that way for a moment outside the secret room.