Not Geoffrey, she realized as her heart stopped forcing so much blood to her brain, but his uncle. Sir Isaac’s ghost, for a moment she could have sworn…
“I barely recognized you, dressed as you are. Are you going somewhere?” Joss Wentworth inquired, his slightly graying black hair glinting in the sun. The polite smile he always wore was firmly in place, but in this blend of light and shadow, it made her uncomfortable. Maybe because it was so similar to Geoffrey’s.
And yet so different. She’d never compared the two before, but having just mistaken the two men, she couldn’t help but see the differences. Geoffrey’s smiles always touched his eyes, the kindness in them coming from his heart. She looked hard at Wentworth. His smile seemed only face deep. False, almost like a mask…
She shook off the thought, certain she merely reacted to being caught running away by one of Geoffrey’s relatives.
“I—” What could she say? She supposed the truth would be known soon enough. “Yes. I have decided a marriage to Lord Stratford will not suit and am returning home to Chelmsford.”
Geoffrey’s uncle’s brows furrowed much as his nephew’s did. “Does Geoffrey know this?”
Heat crept up Liliana’s face, but she set her jaw. “Not as of yet, but he will soon enough.” When—if—he cared to seek her out and discover she’d gone.
Wentworth frowned, his countenance again eerily similar to the expression his nephew made and yet different, more…irritated? “I’m not certain this is a good idea.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Liliana said, “but it’s truly for the best.” She turned back to her horse and lifted her foot to the block.
“I can’t stand by and let a lady ride off on a rented nag.”
Liliana suppressed a sigh. Misplaced honor apparently ran in the family. But this was hardly the time for chivalry. She faced him and opened her mouth to refuse.
“Please,” he interrupted. “I won’t say I understand why you’re leaving, though my nephew can be trying, I’m sure.” He smiled, taking her horse’s lead and tying it to the post.
Liliana frowned at his presumption, but then he took her arm and placed it on his and started across the courtyard.
“While I’m of the opinion that you should stay and try to work out whatever lies between you and my nephew, I admit it is not my business. However, I insist you at least let me give you a ride to your destination.”
Liliana considered tugging her arm from his, but she didn’t wish to be rude. Wentworth was only doing what he thought best. “That is truly unnecessary. I am accustomed to traveling alone and will be perfectly fine.”
He kept walking, ushering her through a stone archway to where a nondescript black carriage waited. Odd—nothing marked it as a Wentworth carriage.
“It is the only way I can assure Geoffrey that his intended made it home safely,” Wentworth insisted.
She’d had enough. She’d made up her mind, but the man refused to listen to reason. She tugged at her arm, but he caught it, clenching her forearm in a bruising grip.
What in the world? “Sir, please. Unhand me.”
They’d reached the carriage door, which Wentworth flicked open. “You’re coming with me.”
A chill shot up Liliana’s spine at his tone, and the tiny hairs on her arms rose despite the warm morning sunshine. “I am not.”
He yanked so fiercely, pain exploded in her shoulder, as if he’d pulled it from its socket. Liliana gasped in shock and agony.
“Oh, I think you are. Quietly.”
Her gaze flew to the driver, a great hulk of a man, but he ignored her plight, keeping his face deliberately turned away.
Wentworth shoved her inside, following behind. He tossed her into the seat and settled in beside her, blocking her exit. He banged a hand on the ceiling of the carriage, which rocked into motion.
Dear God, what was happening here? Was Geoffrey’s uncle really kidnapping her? Why? Certainly not to return his nephew’s errant bride to him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Where is the corselet?” Wentworth demanded.
“The what?” Shock melted her to her seat. How did Wentworth know of the treasure? Had he overheard while following her and Geoffrey about?
“Don’t toy with me,” he growled. “The treasure. Where did your father hide it?”
Where did your father hide it? A wave of nausea rolled over Liliana, sucking the breath from her as her mind tried to process his words. They smacked of intimate knowledge, more than could be gleaned by eavesdropping.
She looked at Wentworth, with his fake smile that had turned to a snarl. Could he be the blackmailer?
The old valet’s story popped into her mind, a tale of murder and poison. She nearly gasped, barely suppressing the urge in time. Could Wentworth be the killer?
Thoughts, memories and scenarios swirled around in her brain. What if she’d been right that the note that lured her father to his death had been a forgery?
Where did your father hide it? Anger boiled through Liliana. How would Wentworth know whether her father had hidden the treasure unless he had tried to get it from her father and failed. Maybe killed him in the attempt.
And then killed his own brother to cover up his deed? Or for the exchange money.
And now she was trapped in a carriage with him. Dear God, what did he intend to do with her? She glanced at the door, then at the man blocking her path. There would be no escape, at least not until they stopped. Her only choice was to play along, buy some time.
“I don’t know anything about a treasure,” she said, hoping to sound confused rather than horrified, as she actually was.
Wentworth reached a hand into his vest, withdrew a pistol and pointed it at her chest.
Liliana stopped breathing. He was the killer, and if she didn’t do something, she might be his next victim.
“You’re lying,” he said. He pushed the gun forward and metal prodded her rib cage. Her bluff wasn’t working.
“Okay, I know about the corselet, but I don’t have it,” she blurted.
Wentworth’s eyes narrowed, and in their blue depths, Liliana recognized desperation. Desperate men did rash things. Wentworth’s grip tightened on the pistol and Liliana’s insides went all watery. She had to say something, anything, or he very well might dispatch her and no one would ever know what had become of her.
“But I know where it is.”
Uncle Joss was nowhere to be found. In the chaos that surrounded the packing of carriages and guests hurrying to breakfast early before starting back to London, no one could remember seeing the man. Geoffrey had looked in the family wing, the common areas, even the servants’ quarters. All he learned was that Uncle Joss’ longtime valet was missing, too.
Mother, who’d blessedly given him the silent treatment since he’d announced his intention to marry Liliana, had broken it long enough to tell him she hadn’t seen Joss since last night’s dinner.
Geoffrey bounded up the stairs to the guest hallway. Before he left to search the grounds, he needed to warn Liliana to stay inside. If he was right about Joss suspecting she had knowledge of the treasure’s whereabouts, she could be in danger.