The Heir - Catherine Coulter [133]
Slowly she mounted the staircase, the gun tucked in the folds of her skirt. It was Gervaise who had chosen the time and place where she would confront him. She wondered if she were not trying to prove something to Justin. Probably so. She devoutly prayed that Justin was close by. He had to be. He’d been watching Gervaise as closely as she had.
The door to the earl’s bedchamber stood slightly ajar. She saw the flicker of a single candle weave itself into bizarre shapes and dancing patterns on the opposite wall. Slowly she pressed against the door.
The earl’s eyes swept the crowded room as they had at regular short intervals throughout the evening. He soon spotted Lucinda Rutherford, standing quite alone, looking for the world like a homely friendless little pug. “Damn,” he said under his breath. But a short time ago—just moments ago, it seemed—he had seen Gervaise leading Miss Rutherford into a quadrille. Satisfied, he had left the large ballroom with Lord Talgarth leaning heavily on his arm to help his gouty lordship into his library. “Thank you, lad. I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense.”
He had been gone but a moment. He looked down distractedly into Miss Talgarth’s upturned face. Where had she come from? “Do forgive me, Suzanne, but I must take you to your mama.”
She wanted to know what was going on, but to her credit, she just pouted a bit, patted his arm, and let him lead her to her mother.
The earl offered Lady Talgarth and Suzanne a perfunctory bow before retreating quickly to the ballroom entrance. His eyes searched the room once again for Gervaise. He was not there. He had taken the bait, and Justin knew that if he did not hurry, he would lose all, through naught but his own carelessness. But he had only been with Lord Talgarth for no more than five minutes. Damnation.
“Justin.” He whirled about at the sound of his name. He saw Dr. Branyon beckoning to him. He was loath to waste a precious minute. “Arabella was searching for you,” Lady Ann called. “I thought she intended to go to the balcony, but now I cannot find her. Have you seen her, Justin?”
“No, I have not. You must excuse me—when you see Arabella, tell her that I will return shortly.”
“But where are you going?”
He didn’t turn at Dr. Branyon’s question, just kept going through the crowd of chattering guests from the ballroom. It was only when he stepped out into the clear moonlight that the force of Lady Ann’s words broke upon him. Arabella had left, followed the comte.
He would strangle her. He would thrash her. He would burn her ears until she was whimpering. His damned wife, she had gone after Gervaise. Oh God, it could be dangerous. Gervaise had absolutely nothing to lose. He would do anything to gain what he wanted. And now that Justin knew exactly what he was after, he knew Arabella would be in grave danger if she happened to confront him.
He gained the stables in a trice. The groom stood in the doorway, fidgeting nervously. He was not certain whether he should have sent a message to Lord Talgarth that the Countess of Strafford had taken Miss Talgarth’s horse.
The earl bust in upon the groom. “My horse is the bay stallion already saddled in the far stall. Bring him to me at once.”
The gentleman had brought his horse over early in the day. What was going on here? Was his wife running away with that young man who had first come to the stables? Oh goodness, but this was exciting. He couldn’t wait to tell all the other lads.
Maybe his lordship didn’t know, maybe—“My lord, her ladyship, your wife—” The words died in the still night, for the Earl