Page 20 of Black Widow

People had fallen over each other. Those on their feet milled aimlessly. Others were on the floor, hurt. If the darkness had lasted even a few moments more, the duke’s guests might have trampled each other todeath.

Just to the right of him, there was a young girl in white holding up a bloody hand. She had fallen on a champagne flute and cutherself.

Gideon swore again and reluctantly handed Amelia’s still form over to his rival. “Don’t you dare leave until I come back to escort her home,” heordered.

Worthing’s lips compressed, but he didn’t argue with him. Gideon turned his back to him, going to the young girl’s aid first, belatedly recognizing her as one of the Turneychits.

He took her hand, examining her palm. He tsked. “It’s a paltry cut. You’re going to befine.”

The girl’s wide eyes didn’t shift from her hand. “It’s bleeding. There’s b-blood,” shestuttered.

“Yes, but not too much of it,” he assured her, trying not to sound impatient as he untied his cravat and pressed it to the wound. Unceremoniously, he hauled the girl to her feet, happy to give her to a concerned gentleman hurrying toward them—one of her brothers judging from the familyresemblance.

There were a few other injuries equal to Miss Turney’s, but luckily none more serious. Gideon helped a few more people, most of whom appeared merely overset. Servants hurried to relight the extinguished tapers, and the duke called for more champagne be passed around to the guests thatremained.

The strains of a determined country reel began before Gideon could look for Amelia and Worthing. They were nowhere in sight. He searched the ballroom for a full twenty minutes before the footman at the door confirmed theirdeparture.

Gideon swore a blue streak and left the ball. He tried her townhouse first, but they weren’tthere.

“Not again,” he fumed, staring daggers at herbutler.

“Um, madam was here,” the man said, fingering his collar nervously. “But she asked that her trunks be loaded to her traveling coach immediately. She departed a few minutes ago. Madam suddenly decided to accept an invitation to visit thecountry.”

Adolfo pointed to one end of the busy street, but Gideon didn’t see the brown and cream equipage he knew to be Amelia’s. “I don’t understand. I just saw her. How did she get packed soquickly?”

It should have taken a lady of the ton most of the day to pack all the gowns and other necessities required for a weekend countryvisit.

Adolfo appeared relieved to have an answer for him. “Madam’s trunk was packed,” he volunteered. “She’s had one at the ready for the last few months, apparently for such anoccasion.”

Damn and blast.“Did Worthing go withher?”

“I believe so, my lord,” the butler added a bit more reluctantly, cautiously starting to close the door in anticipation of his displeasure. When Gideon glowered and nodded, Adolfo bid a hasty adieu and shut the door, making good hisescape.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, heading back to the Marlboro’sball.

He was going to collect Clarke and then, come hell or high water, hewouldfind Amelia—and nail her skirts to thefloor.

Chapter 7

Lord Westcliff’scountry party was in full swing. Their host and hostess had organized all the usual country amusements as well as a few others unique to their household. For the women, archery had been followed by croquet and then a trip to the local village. The men had been indulging in endless rounds of billiards interspersed with the occasional grouse hunt. That afternoon, there was a contest to see who could make it through the immense garden mazefirst.

Having had more than enough of hedge mazes, Amelia pleaded a headache and excused herself to rest in the ladies’ salon. The well-trained staff had left a tea tray at her disposal, and she selected a novel from the library before sittingdown.

Crispin had gone fishing with the men. His family had been connected to Westcliff’s for generations. Despite their eleventh-hour arrival, they had been welcomed to the country party with ready grace and good humor. They waved away the fact Crispin had already sent hisregrets.

If their hosts were reluctant to have Amelia under their roof along with Crispin, they showed no sign. Indeed, the Westcliff’s were all that was gracious, a rarity among the ton. It was the first time Amelia had felt accepted at one of these affairs. But her host’s opinion of her was the least of her concerns at themoment.

I am either being pursued by a monster or I am goingmad.

Either prospect was terrifying. She set her book aside and picked up the fine china cup set in front of her. Ignoring the rattling of the saucer on the bed, she drank until her handssteadied.

It was a terrible situation when madness was the best prospect she faced, but Amelia could not afford to deny reality any longer. But how did one know when they were goingmad?

Well, imagining monsters was probably an excellent indication of mental derangement. She shuddered involuntarily, the image of those unnatural eyes watching her from the balcony of the Marlborough’s ballroom burning in hermind.

It hadn’t been the first time. They had watched her from the upper story of their house in Kent the day she had found Martin’sbody.

You are notmad.

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