Page 52 of Tainted Reasoning

“Would she have her phone turned off if she’s in court?” Victoria asks, trying to find a reason for her not answering.

“Maybe, but my driver wouldn’t. He’s expected to always answer his phone. If he doesn’t, he’s fired. It’s in the contract my father made him sign, and I’ve not renegotiated it yet.” Nicholas’ response burns down that theory. “I’m going to call in some people I know, see if we can get a track on her phone.” He starts typing a short message into his phone while Victoria and I both watch him. My hand comes up to my head and swipes across my ear then my nose. I’m anxious, and that does nothing for the mis-wiring in my head. My other hand forms a fist then relaxes before forming a fist again.

“She’s tough. We’ll find her.” Victoria appears beside me, leaning in to give me comfort, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. Nicholas looks up from his phone, and his face immediately goes white as a sheet.

“Move!” he shouts, and he’s running for us just as the wall and door behind us explode in a hail of glass and bricks. I can’t believe what I’m seeing when a car comes speeding in. I grab Victoria and throw her out of the way toward Nicholas and dive sideways, managing to narrowly avoid being hit as the car slams to a halt in the center of our lounge.

“Nicholas.” I’m on my feet and coughing due to the debris and dust in the room. I hear another masculine cough, and Nicholas gets to his feet. The butler and some of the other staff run into the room.

“Ok,” Nicholas informs me.

“Victoria?”

“Safe,” she replies, but I know from the blood dripping down the side of her head she’s not uninjured. She places her hand on her stomach and groans.

“Get me a doctor,” Nicholas shrieks, and people start running around like crazy.

“I’m ok.” Victoria says as her legs give way. Nicholas sweeps her up, and we hurriedly leave the room. I think I pulled something in my left leg when I leaped out of the way of the moving car because I’m limping, and my calf muscle is painful.

Nicholas puts Victoria down in the hallway. He’s examining her body.

“The baby?” he asks.

“Ok. It’s kicking. I think it’s angry,” Victoria reassures him.

“Thank god.”

He tilts her head back and scrutinizes the cut on her forehead. “It doesn’t look too bad. I’ll get the doctor to look at it.”

He motions to one of the maids.

“Take the Duchess to her room, help her change, and then put her to bed.”

“Nicholas, I’m not a child. We need to find Tamara.”

“No arguments. You’ve got our child in there, and if it’s kicking you because it’s angry, you need to rest to placate it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Keep me informed of everything, though.”

“I will.” Victoria kisses her husband and disappears up the stairs with the maid who’s supporting her on her unsteady legs.

“You ok?” Nicholas asks me and nods down to where I’m flexing my painful leg.

“Yes. I think I pulled something,” I reply and perform a calf stretch.

“It didn’t hit you?”

“No. Narrowly missed. What the fuck, though?” I look into the room where the dust still billows out.

“My thoughts exactly. I better call the police.” Nicholas rubs his dusty hand over his head and hair, leaving it with a grey sheen.

The door to the lounge opens, and the butler comes out. We don’t need him to speak to know something is seriously wrong and not just because there’s a car sitting pride of place in the lounge where our sofa once was.

“Your Grace, I think you need to see this before you call the authorities.”

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