Page 24 of Tender Blackguard

The girl shook her head vigorously. “I don’t know much.” She glanced around before leaning forward. “But I fear something bad may’ve happened.”

Lark’s chest squeezed tight. “Why?”

“The last time I saw her was the night of a special party.”

“Special how?”

“Don’t know exactly, only that on certain nights when Lady Dryden and the three misses are otherwise occupied, the master’ll sometimes have a small group of gentlemen over for special entertainment. Since Harriet and I are assigned to care for the young ladies, we’d have no cause to assist in the event ourselves.” The maid’s voice lowered. “Except...just as we were readying ourselves for bed, Harriet was called downstairs. She didn’t come back.”

The strain of fear in the girl’s voice shot like ice through Lark’s veins.

“She didn’t come back? As in, she didn’t return to her room that night?”

“Nor the next day. Not ever.”

“What about her things? Her personal effects?”

“Taken away by Mrs. Greer, the housekeeper, with nary a word.”

Lark struggled to make sense of what the maid said.

“Is there anything else—anything at all—you can recall from that night or the next morning? Have you any idea who the gentlemen were that attended the party?”

“Sorry, but that’s all I know. The lord’s special parties are always kept very secret. For the most part, we’re told to keep to our rooms during such events.”

Lark nodded and offered a grateful smile. “Thank you. I know this was a risk for you, but I appreciate it more than you can know.”

A soft knock could just barely be heard on the other side of the door. The girl tensed. “I’ve gotta get back inside, but I hope she’s...I hope she’s all right.”

“Wait.” As the girl turned away, Lark stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “I want you to know that if you ever need a new position—if you feel unsafe here—I will do what I can to help you.”

“I’m...I...” There was another knock. “I’ve got to go.”

As the maid slipped through the door, Lark felt a moment of crushing fear. The information she’d gotten from the frightened girl was the worst she could have expected.

Harriet had disappeared from her place of employment during a private party, leaving behind all her things. The circumstances were extremely suspect and suggested something tragic had befallen her dear friend. And yet...somehow, Harriet had managed to get a note to Lark asking her not to look for her and begging her forgiveness. As though she’d made some sort of choice in her disappearance. At the very least, it allowed Lark to continue believing her friend was alive despite the terrified maid’s accounting.

But it inspired far more questions than it answered. What had happened that night? Where had Harriet gone? Had she been forced to flee out of self-preservation, or had she been coerced away somehow?

As more sounds of revelry from inside spilled into the night, she swiftly made her way through the garden to the back gate, then slipped into the mews. Though her thoughts were in chaos, she kept her senses attuned to detect the possibility of anyone else moving through the night nearby. It was an old habit she’d likely never shake.

And it was a good thing the skill remained honed when she detected the faint scuff of a boot on stone and the distant rustle of fabric, quickly prompting her to seek out the deepest shadows lining the narrow lane. Searching the darkness, it took her a moment to discern the solitary dark figure keeping close to the shadows himself as he crossed the street not far in front of her.

There was something disturbingly familiar in the way he moved—silently, deliberately. Like the predatory panther slinking through a night jungle rather than a gentleman strolling through Mayfair.

Her breath caught as awareness spiked in her blood. A tingle of apprehension slid down the hollow of her spine.

Warfield.

She knew the marquess had gone out this evening, but she had no idea he’d remained in the neighborhood. It probably wouldn’t have roused her suspicion to see him strolling about late at night if not for the fact that he seemed intent upon staying as unseen as she did.

Instinct urged her to follow him.

Keeping close enough not to lose sight of him while ensuring he wouldn’t detect her presence, she trailed him to the other end of Curzon Street and a house that, if Gideon’s information was correct, had been empty since its owner’s passing.

When the marquess entered the abandoned mansion’s garden and continued boldly to the back entrance of the house, Lark crouched in the shadows and watched.

What business could the marquess have at this lord’s empty home? In the middle of the night under cover of a moonless sky?

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