“Maud is convinced getting rid of Jessica will solve her problems,” Mr Archer explained when they stopped near the gatehouse. “Jessica will be easier to manipulate while in a drugged state, and so Maud means to abduct her and take her place.”
“Take her place?” Sophia’s mouth dropped open in horror. So Maud meant to kill Jessica. She must be a dimwit to think she could accomplish the feat.
Finlay’s jaw firmed. “Ignore him. We will deal with the facts as they present themselves. Have no fear. D’Angelo would die to protect your sister.”
The confidence in his voice settled her nerves, but only momentarily.
The sudden crack of a gunshot pierced the stillness of the night. The deathly scream sent the ravens scattering. Fear was a construct of the mind, yet it flowed like an icy river through Sophia’s veins. She raised her skirts, ready to race across the forecourt.
“The sound came from the woods, not the house,” Finlay said, gripping her arm in reassurance, yet his shallow breathing conveyed apprehension.
“What if Mr Sloane walked into a—”
“No!” Finlay dismissed the notion instantly. “No. Sloane wouldn’t make a mistake. I’d know if it were him. We must continue and cannot go back.”
“Let me speak to Maud,” Mr Archer said, unperturbed by the tragedy unfolding in the woods. “I’ll enter the house and pretend I’ve escaped your grasp.”
Finlay sneered. “Do not take me for a fool. How do I know you’re not colluding with your wife to steal Jessica’s inheritance? You’ll probably use it as an opportunity to amend your plan.”
Like an altar boy accused of sipping the wine, Mr Archer’s blue eyes shone with feigned innocence. At some point, he would run. Perhaps he hoped to cause a commotion and slip away undetected.
“We’re going to creep across the forecourt and enter the house via the herb garden.” Finlay prodded Mr Archer in the chest. “Make a sound, and Lady Adair will shoot you. Is that clear?”
Good. Sophia welcomed the chance to kill the devil.
Mr Archer nodded.
Finlay had instructed everyone to wait in the drawing room, to keep the curtains closed and main doors locked until his return. And though it proved impossible to cross the forecourt without their boots crunching on the gravel, Mr D’Angelo did not appear at the window to check for intruders.
Finlay took the key from his coat pocket and opened the rear door. He paused for a moment and narrowed his gaze as if honing his senses. Candles burned in the sconces along the narrow passage. The tempting aroma of their beef stew supper still wafted from the kitchen. An eerie silence whispered through the great hall like a grim warning. Blent made no secret of his disdain for Maud, but one would expect to hear the faint hum of conversation.
Sophia’s stomach roiled. “Something is wrong.” The hairs on her nape prickled in agreement. “The drawing room door is closed.”
Finlay exhaled slowly. “Perhaps they wished to keep out the draught.”
“But Mr D’Angelo positioned the chair so he could observe anyone approaching through the great hall.”
“Then we must assume there’s villainy afoot.”
Sophia swallowed down a whimper. “What are we to do, Finlay?”
“The only thing we can. Assess the scene and attempt to negotiate.”
They moved closer to the door.
“Move out of my way!” came Maud’s sudden demand from inside the drawing room. “Else I shall pull the trigger!”
Trigger!
Maud had a pistol?
Jessica must be terrified.
“I am not moving from this door, madam,” D’Angelo countered. “You can fire if you wish, but you’ve got one lead ball in that pistol, and there are three of us.”
What the devil? What if Maud shot Jessica?