The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows across the grand facade of Hamilton House. Inside the quiet drawing room on the first floor, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Ines and Aunt Margery were waiting for them.
The two won sat near the tall glass windows that overlooked the front courtyard. The tea in their porcelain cups had grown completely cold. The steady ticking of the mantel clock sounded incredibly loud in the silent room. Every passing minute stretched their nerves a little tighter.
Aunt Margery looked at the clock, her brow furrowing in deep concern. She adjusted her silk shawl.
"They are a bit late, aren’t they?" Aunt Margery asked. Her voice lacked its usual booming confidence. It was soft and filled with worry.
Ines stood up from her velvet chair and began to pace the length of the rug. She rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling very cold despite the warm fire burning in the hearth.
"I think so too, Aunt," Ines answered, her dark eyes darting toward the window. "Everything is almost ready, and the ball is tomorrow night. The floral arrangents are complete. The musicians are hired. The invitations have been handed out to half of polite society."
She stopped pacing and looked directly at her aunt. The terrible secret they had discovered in the Duchess of Hastings’s letter weighed heavily on her mind.
"What if they didn’t find anything?" Ines asked, voicing her deepest fear. "What if the maid ran away and they couldn’t find her? If Rowan cos back empty-handed, Lord Farrington will force him to sign that contract tomorrow."
Aunt Margery sat up straighter. She forced a brave, reassuring smile onto her wrinkled face. She refused to let despair settle in the house.
"I am sure they found sothing," Aunt Margery replied firmly. "Rowan does not quit easily. He is incredibly resourceful, and Miss Kingsley is a very clever young woman. They will return with the truth."
Ines sighed, turning back to the tall glass window to look out over the street. She watched a few fine carriages roll past their gates, heading toward other grand parties in Mayfair.
Just then, Ines saw a wagon coming into the vicinity.
It was a rough, simple wooden farm wagon, pulled by two tired workhorses. It did not belong in this wealthy neighborhood. The wheels were heavily caked in thick, wet mud, and it moved at a slow, careful pace. It turned off the main street and entered the wide, open gates of the Hamilton estate.
Ines frowned, pressing her hand against the cool glass of the window.
"Aunt, did you make any other procurent for the ball?" Ines asked, deeply confused. "I thought all pending orders for the food and wine were delivered yesterday."
Aunt Margery pushed herself up from her comfortable chair. She walked over to the window to see what her niece was seeing. She squinted her sharp eyes, looking down at the muddy wagon entering their pristine courtyard.
"No, I didn’t," Aunt Margery replied, shaking her head. Her confusion quickly turned into a cold spike of dread. "If I did order sothing, the rchants would have followed the back gate to the kitchens, not the main entrance. No delivery wagon cos to the front doors."
The wagon ca closer into view, slowly crunching over the gravel until it ca to a complete stop directly in the center of the front courtyard.
Then, Ines saw it.
She saw a woman standing in the back of the wagon. The woman’s dress was completely ruined, soaked in dark brown mud. Her hair was a wild, tangled ss. The woman was waving her hands frantically toward the front doors of the manor, shouting at the footn who were standing guard outside.
It was Delaney.
But Delaney was not alone. Ines looked down into the flat, wooden bed of the wagon.
"Oh my good Lord!" Ines gasped. The breath completely left her lungs. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. "There are bodies there."
They could see Delaney shouting downstairs for help as the farr and his brother were helping to lift a man out of the wagon bed.
Another man was leaning heavily against the wooden sideboards, clutching his arm.
Aunt Margery leaned closer to the glass. Her eyes widened in absolute, sheer terror. She recognized the sheer size and the broad shoulders of the unconscious man being lifted by the farrs. She recognized the dark wool of his expensive greatcoat.
"Rowan!" Aunt Margery cried out.
Ines did not wait another second. She turned away from the window and started running.
"Rowan!" Ines scread.
She grabbed the heavy silk skirts of her day dress, lifting them high above her ankles, and sprinted out of the drawing room. She completely abandoned all the strict rules of polite society. She did not walk; she ran with desperate, terrifying speed.
"I’m right behind you, Ines," Aunt Margery spoke, her voice trembling with fear. She hurried out of the room, trying her absolute best to catch up with Ines’s speed, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs.
Ines ran down the grand marble stairs. She moved so fast she was skipping so steps, her soft shoes slapping loudly against the stone.
"Simmons!!!" Ines shouted at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the massive foyer. "SIMMONS!!! Call the doctor! Send a rider imdiately!"
Mr. Simmons stepped out from the hallway. He took one look at the Duchess’s panicked face and the commotion happening just outside the front doors, and he instantly sprang into action. He snapped his fingers, sending two young footn running toward the stables to fetch the best physician in London.
Ines got to the front doors just as they were thrown wide open.
The cold evening wind rushed into the warm foyer, bringing with it the harsh sll of wet earth, sweat, and copper.
So of the male servants from the house ran outside to assist. Together, the Hamilton footn and the farr and his brother were carrying the carriage driver and Rowan out of the wagon and up the wide stone steps.
Ines imdiately saw Rowan.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart completely shattered in her chest.
Rowan’s large body was entirely limp. He was being carried by four n, his head lolling to the side. His expensive clothes were soaked in mud and blood. But the most terrifying sight of all was his head.
His head was wrapped with a dark woolen shawl. It was Delaney’s shawl. The thick fabric was completely soaked through with blood. The bright, terrible crimson stain stood out sharply against the dark wool and his pale, motionless face. His eyes were closed, and his lips were entirely devoid of color.
"Rowan!!!" Ines shrieked.
She did not care about the mud or the blood. She threw herself forward. As the n carefully lowered Rowan onto the soft, thick carpet of the foyer, Ines fell to her knees right beside him.
She hugged him tightly to her chest. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him against her. Her beautiful dress was instantly ruined by the dirt, but she did not even notice.
"Brother, brother!!!" Ines wept, rocking him gently. She pressed her face against his cold cheek. "Please wake up! Please, Rowan, look at !"
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