She nodded with a shaky breath. "I'll be fine."
"Return to the party immediately after I'm gone." Taking note of her loose hair, he dismissed the faux pas. It couldn't be helped. Most at this celebration already knew he hadn't the strength to resist his bride. Let them talk.
"All right."
He squeezed her once, but his focus riveted on the man and the desire to pummel him.
He stepped onto the path, watching as the man and woman embraced in a passionate kiss. The sight only further hardened his resolve. "Forgive me," he said, watching the masked duo jump apart. The woman shrieked, twirling away from his gaze.
The man only glared through the black fabric secured over his eyes, effectively concealing his identity.
"I realize this isn't the best moment, but I require a word with you."
"With me?" the man asked with a snort. "I highly doubt there is anything you need from me at this moment, sir." He sneered.
"Oh, you couldn't begin to imagine. However, I insist."
"And just who are you to insist?" Derek removed his mask, and the man's eyes widened. "Forgive me, my lord. I didn't recognize you."
Derek nodded, but only to keep the man calm. "I need you to come with me. Now."
The man's eyes shifted down the path, and Derek hoped he would run. Taking him by force might alleviate some of the tension stewing within him.
Finally, the man nodded. "Of course." He walked down the graveled path back toward the house.
"Excuse me, my lady." Derek bowed in her direction. "Do enjoy the rest of your evening."
She didn't say anything as he left. Only kept her back turned. Perhaps she'd learned a lesson tonight as well.
As they walked along the edge of the courtyard, he signaled to Henry to follow him, and led the man deep into the house, to a place he hadn't taken Charlotte. To a place no one would hear them.
Chapter 15
Charlotte waited until the woman left before heading back to the crowd. She wasn't sure if Derek had known who the couple was, but Charlotte had spent enough time with other debutantes that she easily recognized Miss Elizabeth Mulberry. She'd known the girl was getting desperate to snag a husband, but now Charlotte only felt sorry for her.
After securing her hair, she stepped into the courtyard, eyeing the crowded floor with unease. A loud laugh shot shivers up her arms. The man, whoever he was, had been here the whole time. He had to have been. They'd had too much trouble for him to be a new arrival.
And Daisy...
Charlotte swallowed hard. She couldn't think of it now. But how could she not have known who he was sooner? Their group hadn't been that large. She had to have seen him, heard him several times since they'd retired to the country.
She might have been able to prevent...
No. She pressed her lips together. Derek was with him now. If anyone could get the information they needed, it was he. Soon, hopefully, this would all be over.
"Lady Charlotte, I've been searching everywhere for you." The widowed Lady Norland stepped next to her with a timid smile. "Your mother has been looking for you."
"Oh, I stepped away to the convenience for a moment. Thank you for telling me." Her eyes met Lady Norland's concerned gaze.
"My dear, are you well?"
Charlotte took a cleansing breath of the rose-perfumed garden beyond the pavers. "Perfect, thank you." She forced a smile. "Just a bit tired from all the merriment." The lady nodded in agreement, but Charlotte wasn't sure if the woman actually believed her. "Do you happen to know where my mother is?"
"Yes, I do. I'd be happy to take you to her, if you'd like."
"Please. Thank you."
Lady Norland gave her another small smile, the skin on her temple pulling even tighter against her severe coiffure before leading her across the group and around the far corner of the house. Few guests lingered here, and the lights of the party faded.
"My mother is over here?"
"Inside, actually. I thought it'd be easiest to enter through the library. The entryway off the garden is quite crowded, and I thought this would be the fastest." She paused. "Would you rather go the other way?"
Charlotte shook off her unease. She was being ridiculous. "No. This is all right."
"Okay. Follow me."
Her anxiety built as they neared the library door. The terrace was completely dark, only lit by the soft glow of the moon. No conversation filled the air. "Are you sure my mother is in there? Perhaps she's rejoined the group already. We should head back and check."
Her heart hammered in her chest. Something wasn't right. She shouldn't be here. She swung around and lifted her skirts, ready to run.
Lady Norland sighed heavily a moment before she cocked a pistol. Charlotte froze.
"I was hoping to avoid a scene, Lady Charlotte."
Charlotte gasped. Gone was the demure, mousy voice of Lady Norland. Charlotte turned slowly to face the person whose voice she remembered from that horrible night in the Leatherbys' sitting room.
Lady Norland was indeed standing before her, but if she hadn't known that a moment ago, she'd never guess that this confident woman was one and the same. Chin raised, rounded shoulders straightened, Lady Norland proved powerful, daring, and dangerous. Every bit the deadly woman Charlotte had overheard at the Leatherbys' ball.
Lady Norland waved the gun toward the door. "Inside."
Charlotte's eyes glanced to the barrel, but she didn't move. Her thoughts raced to everything Derek had taught her, but drew a blank on what to do. She couldn't outrun a bullet.
Derek's derringer weighed heavily in her pocket. Awkward. No way could she reach for it, not with the pistol Lady Norland had aimed inches from her heart.
Lady Norland's head tilted. "I'm not playing here, my dear. I'll shoot you where you stand if you don't do as I say."
Charlotte gulped and moved toward the door. In that moment, she knew she was going to die, and with that realization came another.
Derek would never know she loved him.
Anguish welled in her chest, but it was too late. The Black Dahlia would see to that.
* * *
"I'm telling you, I have no bloody clue what you're talking about!" Lord Acton shouted, wresting against the bonds firmly tying him to the chair.
"Now, now. We both know that's not true," Derek taunted. "I know who you are, Lord Acton. And I know whom you work for. We can make this easy, and you can tell me who the Black Dahlia is, or you can make it hard." He signaled Henry, who took the opportunity to roll out his interrogation kit.
The clamps and knives had the desired effect. Lord Acton's face drained. "She'll kill me if I talk."
"I'll kill you if you don't," Derek said merrily.
The man whined, only furthering Derek's disgust of him. He'd been surprised when he'd taken the mask off and realized the man he'd been hunting had been right under his nose, in his house, this whole time. Here sat one of the people responsible for terrorizing Charlotte, and it was all he could do to keep calm and refrain from ending him.
There was more to this than revenge. He had a job to do. Remembering that fact was becoming increasingly difficult by the second. Thinking of Charlotte out there at the party, alone, at a time that should have been special for them both, disgusted him. He'd never forget the fear in her eyes in the garden. For that alone, he wanted to hurt Lord Acton.
Derek circled his prisoner like prey in the bare stone room. "Give me the knife." Derek held out a palm to Henry.
"For stabbing or dismembering?"
"Dismembering. We might as well move this along. I don't have time to enjoy this," he said as he had so many times in the past, though torture had never been an enjoyment for him. In truth, it usually never came to that, but in the few instances where it'd been necessary, it had always left him sick. He wasn't so sure about it this time. Part of him, one he wasn't proud of, wanted to hurt Lord Acton. Wanted to make him scream, to make him fear. If only so he'd know an ounce of what Charlotte had suffered.
Henry placed the blade in Derek's hand. "I'm going to make this easy for both of us. You can tell me what I want to know, and you can walk out of here in once piece. Or I'll start cutting bits and pieces of you until you beg to tell me. And even then, I might not stop. It's your choice."
Silence remained.
"Very well, then. It makes no difference to me." He gripped Lord Acton's hand by the leather-bound restraining strap, positioning the blade at the base of his pinkie where it met his hand.
"Wait! Wait, I'll tell you," Lord Acton squealed.
"Tell me, then."