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“How can you be sure if you don’t know where she is? She might have gone into the wood and jumped off Wilson’s Creag.”

He regarded me with eyes like blue ice. Slowly he got to his feet.

“I’ve offered you my hospitality at a very distressing time. You’ve responded with nothing but rudeness by suggesting my lovely wife would rather die than remain with me.”

Actually I hadn’t suggested that. Not out loud anyway. All I’d done was ask whether she’d committed suicide. Sir Alastair had assumed the rest.

“It’s time you left,” he said. “Please allow me to grieve in peace.”

“Grieve? I thought you said Lady Justina wasn’t dead.”

“She isn’t,” he paused to dab his eye with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’m sure you’ll allow me to feel a little grief over her disappearance.”

His performance was so over the top I wanted to puke. Did he really think I’d fall for it?

“Cheer up,” I said. “I’m sure Lady Justina will be found safe and well.”

He didn’t look happy at the prospect. “It’s time for you to go, Allegra.” He gestured toward the door. “I’ll show you out.”

There wasn’t much to be achieved by remaining, so I moved out of the drawing room and down the hall to the front door. Maybe I could hang around the grounds. There was always a chance I’d see Justina in one of the upstairs rooms.

“Thank you for your time,” I said to Sir Alastair.

“My pleasure.” His words were as automatic and insincere as mine.

He opened the front door letting in a blast of cold air. I wondered where Phillips was. Opening the front door was his job. The butlers’ union wouldn’t be pleased.

I was half way out the front door when I heard the scream.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was a woman’s scream. Justina’s.

Sir Alastair pretended he hadn’t heard it and tried to usher me through the door. I knocked away his hand. Pushing him aside, I stormed back into the hall.

As far as I could tell, the scream had come from somewhere toward the back of the house. Upstairs? Downstairs? I couldn’t be sure. I strained my ears hoping to hear something that would help me find her, but I was disappointed. Whatever had made Justina scream, the situation no longer existed. Or did it? Perhaps even now, as I stood impotently in the hall, she was being dragged to some secret location.

After taking a moment to turn back and punch Sir Alastair firmly in the stomach—he doubled over with a satisfyingly painful grunt—I ran down the hall. Taking the stairs two at a time, I headed upstairs to Justina’s bedroom.

I was unsurprised to find it empty, but there was evidence that she had been here recently. Her hairbrush was lying on the floor and a bottle of perfume had been knocked over, making a puddle on a lace doily. Holding my breath against the fragrant deluge, I righted the bottle and replaced the cap.

I went through the motions of checking under her bed, in the closet, in her bathroom, and even behind the drapes. There was no sign of her. In desperation I ran out of the room and along the hall, flinging open doors as I went.

Sir Alastair’s room was empty. So were the rooms Casper and I had occupied during our sleepover. Even the attic was empty. I lingered a moment, hoping my big toe would itch.

Nothing. Bugger.

I ran downstairs. Sir Alastair had straightened up and was moving down the hall toward me. Behind him the open front door let in a blast of cold air. I grabbed his shirt collar, got up real close and personal.

“Where is she?”

“Lady Justina has disappeared. I’ve told you that.” His voice was ice. He pointed to the open door. “Get out of my home.”

“I’m not leaving without her.”

Still clutching his stomach, he called for Phillips. The butler loomed out of the shadows.

Sir Alastair said, “Show Ms. Fairweather out.”

Phillips was about my height, but he wasn’t very agile. When he tried to grab me, I dodged out of his grasp and swung my fist. He tried to defend himself but he had no chance. I hit him with a left hook, not even full strength, and he went down.