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Samuel’s fear redoubled. He’d told Hannah to watch over Lady Telford. “I have to get back to the ballroom,” he said, already halfway across the sitting room.

“Agreed,” Jealous replied. “But wipe the blood from your face and reload your pistol before you get there.”

Chapter 29

Hannah had circled the ballroom three times and had yet to locate Lady Telford. Her mounting anxiety over her hostess’s disappearance was melding with her overarching concern for Samuel’s welfare, and remaining calm was proving to be more and more difficult. Up until now, she had avoided asking anyone about Lady Telford’s whereabouts, but she was quickly reaching the point where her need to keep her assignment confidential was not nearly so important as ensuring the lady’s safety.

There was still no sign of Samuel or Mr. Jealous. She had no idea where Mr. Clarke was, and a quick glance at the dance floor told her that Sophia would be unavailable until the cotillion ended. Her father was seated on the other side of the room and appeared to be in the midst of a serious discussion with two gentlemen he’d done business with in the past. With mounting desperation, Hannah scanned the room for Elinor, finally spotting her talking to Miss Abigail Wadsworth beside the nearby refreshment table.

Smoothing her hands down the front of her gown in a faint attempt to calm herself, Hannah approached the two young ladies.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said when she arrived. “I am searching for Lady Telford. Has either of you seen her recently?”

Elinor gave her a puzzled look, undoubtedly wondering why Hannah could possibly want to speak with the imperious older lady. “I have not,” she said. “Have you, Abigail?”

“I believe she was called upon to attend to some sort of emergency,” Abigail said. “A footman brought the message just a few moments ago. I happened to overhear him as I was coming to join Elinor. He said that one of her guests had removed herself to the library because she was unwell and was insisting upon speaking with her ladyship.”

The words emergency and footman spun in horrifying circles in Hannah’s head. Given that Samuel and Mr. Jealous had gone after Aitken, the footman was unlikely to have been him, but could it have been Grimsby?

“What did the footman look like?” Hannah asked.

Abigail appeared nonplussed. “I scarcely noticed. He wore the same livery as all Lady Telford’s footmen.”

“Was he larger than most?” Hannah pressed.

“Perhaps.” Abigail frowned. “In truth, I gave him very little attention, so I cannot say for certain.”

“Is there a reason why you are so concerned about the footman?” Elinor asked, studying Hannah with too much interest for comfort.

“I simply hoped I might recognize him.” Hannah needed to end this conversation before Elinor could question her peculiar behavior any further. “Thank you for your help, Abigail. I shall ask Lady Telford’s staff for assistance in locating her.” And then, before either young lady could respond, Hannah hurried away.

The library. Hannah’s thoughts sped even faster than her feet. Was that really where Lady Telford had gone? If Abigail was correct, then her ladyship had only recently left the ballroom. But that was small consolation. Hannah had been in Grimsby’s clutches herself, and she knew full well that every second counted if he was holding a weapon.

Offering a silent prayer that the footman had truly taken Lady Telford to the library, Hannah reviewed a mental image of the house’s floor plan. Samuel had shown it to her very briefly when she’d been in Sir John’s parlor, and she remembered enough to know that the library was in the west wing and had french doors that led onto the other end of the same terrace that adjoined the ballroom.

Passing the two footmen standing at the ballroom’s main doors, she stepped into the entrance hall. The vast space was filled with the echo of voices, laughter, and music coming from the ballroom, but the only people in sight were the Bentleys, who appeared to be preparing to leave the ball early, and Lady Telford’s butler, who was assisting them with their outerwear at the front door.

Unbidden, the memory of the promise she’d made to Samuel before coming to the ball entered Hannah’s head, and she slowed her pace a fraction. Was she breaking her word by racing to the library alone? Would it be safer to ask the butler or Mr. Bentley to accompany her?

The clock in the hall struck the hour, startling her and sounding a chilling reminder of how vital every passing second might be. There was no telling how long it would take to explain her situation to the gentlemen—or to persuade them that the threat to Lady Telford’s life was real. And she could not risk asking a footman for assistance, not when she had no way of knowing how many of them were in league with Aitken and Grimsby. With one more glance at the loudly ticking clock, Hannah knew she could waste no more time. Raising her hem a couple of inches, she ran across the hall and into the passageway that led to the library.

Though she was almost positive that the hand-drawn map on Sir John’s desk had shown several rooms between the entrance hall and the library, Hannah paused long enough to listen at the first door she passed. Hearing nothing, she put her trust in her memory and continued farther down the dimly lit passageway, slowing opposite each door as she went. She was within a couple of paces of the final door when she heard Lady Telford’s voice.

“Unhand me this instant!”

With her heart pounding in her chest, Hannah reached for the door handle. Gently, she pushed the door open until the gap was wide enough for her to see a portion of the room. The bookshelf-lined walls were in shadow. Coals glowed in the fireplace, and a single candle flicked on an end table beside a wide armchair.

“I’ll release ya when I’m good ’n’ ready. Now give me yer necklace!”

Grimsby. Hannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d heard his voice often enough in her nightmares but had prayed that he’d never again enter her real world. If she was to be of any assistance to Lady Telford, however, she must face him. And she must do it without him ever discovering that his presence in this house was enough to cause her limbs to tremble.

“You shall not have it!” There was a quaver to Lady Telford’s voice now, and Hannah knew full well that Grimsby would have heard it too.

“I don’ ’ave time fer this!” Grimsby growled. “Take it off, or I’ll shoot. Ya won’t mind me takin’ it if yer dead.”

Hannah’s breath caught. He had a gun. Having Grimsby hold a knife to her throat had been bad enough. Lady Telford was facing the vicious desperado while he was holding a pistol.

Easing the door open a little more, Hannah slipped inside and pressed herself against the tenebrous bookshelves. Two bulky armchairs were positioned directly in front of her, an end table covered in books between them. Across the room, Lady Telford stood, her back to the heavy damask curtains, her attention on the broad-shouldered man dressed in footman livery standing before her.