He stared at her, as if somehow trying to imprint her features on his brain. "I won't let anything happen to you, Ellie," he vowed.
"Will you forget about me for a moment! You're the one someone is trying to kill."
Overcome with emotion, he stood and pulled her to him, completely forgetting about his injured ankle. "Ellie, I—Aaargh!"
"Charles?"
"Damned ankle." he swore. "I can't even kiss you properly. I—Don't laugh."
She shook her head. "Don't tell me not to laugh. Someone is trying to kill you. I need all the laughter I can get."
"I suppose if you put it that way ..."
She held out her hand. "Let's go back to the house. You'll need something cold on your ankle to bring the swelling down."
"How the hell am I supposed to find the killer when I can't even walk?"
Ellie leaned up and kissed his cheek. She knew how awful it was to feel helpless, but all she could do was comfort him. "You can't," she said simply. "You'll have to wait a few days. In the meantime we will concentrate on keeping everyone safe."
"I am not going to stand idly by while—"
"You won't be idle," she assured him. "We must see to our protection in any case. By the time our defenses are in place, your ankle will be well enough healed. And then you can"—she couldn't suppress a shudder—"seek out your enemy. Although I wish you would just wait for him to come to you."
"I beg your pardon?"
She prodded him until he started moving slowly back to the house. "We haven't the faintest idea who he is. Best to stay at Wycombe Abbey where you will be safe until he reveals himself."
"You were at the Abbey when you were poisoned," he reminded her.
"I know. We shall have to increase our security. But it is certainly safer here than anywhere else."
He knew she was right, but it galled him to sit around and do nothing. And sitting was all he would be doing with this damned ankle. He growled something that was meant to convey his agreement and continued hobbling home.
"Why don't we go through the side entrance?" Ellie suggested. "We'll see if Mrs. Stubbs can give us a nice cut of meat."
"I'm not hungry," he grumbled.
"For your ankle."
He didn't say anything. He hated feeling foolish.
* * *
By the middle of the following day, Charles felt a little more in control of his situation. He might not be well enough to hunt down his enemy, but at least he had been able to do a bit of detective work.
An interrogation of the kitmen staff had revealed that the most recently hired maid had mysteriously disappeared the night of Ellie's poisoning. She had been hired only one week earlier. No one could remember if she had been the one to deliver the custard to the master bedroom, but then again, no one else could remember doing it, so Charles felt it was safe to assume that the missing maid had had ample time to tamper with the food.
He had his men search the area, but he wasn't surprised when they found no trace of her. She was probably halfway to Scotland with the gold she'd undoubtedly been given to dispense the poison.
Charles had also instituted new measures to protect his family. Claire and Judith were expressly forbidden to leave the house, and he would have issued the same edict to Ellie and Helen if he'd thought he could get away with it. Thankfully, both women seemed inclined to stay indoors, if only to keep Judith entertained so that she didn't complain about not being able to ride her pony.
No progress had been made in the search for the person who had placed the nail under Charles's saddle, however. Charles found this particularly frustrating, and decided to inspect the stables himself for clues. He didn't tell Ellie what he was doing; she'd only worry about him. So while she was busy having tea with Helen, Claire, and Judith, he grabbed his coat, hat, and walking stick, and hobbled outside.
The stables were quiet when he arrived. Leavey was out exercising one of the stallions, and Charles suspected that the rest of the stablehands were taking their afternoon meal. The solitude suited him; he was able to give the stables a more thorough inspection without anyone looking over his shoulder.
Much to his frustration, however, his search produced no new leads. Charles wasn't exactly certain what he was looking for, but he certainly knew when he'd found nothing. He was just preparing to head back to Wycombe Abbey when he heard someone enter the outer door to the stables.
It was probably Leavey. Charles ought to let him know he'd been snooping around. Leavey had been instructed to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, and if Charles had disrupted anything during his search, the stablemaster would surely notice and grow worried.
"Leavey!" Charles called out. "It's Billington. I came to—"
There was a noise behind him. Charles turned but saw nothing. "Leavey?"
No answer.
His ankle started to throb, as if to remind him that he was injured and unable to run.
Another noise.
Charles swung around, but this time all he saw was a rifle barrel swinging down toward his head. And then he saw nothing.
Chapter 22
Ellie wasn't sure just what made her start to worry. She'd never considered herself a fanciful person, but she didn't like the way the sky suddenly clouded over. It made her skin prickle with an irrational fear, and she suddenly felt an intense need to see Charles.
But when she went down to his study, he wasn't there. Her heart skipped a beat, and then she saw that Charles's cane was also missing. Surely if he'd been abducted, his captors wouldn't have taken his cane.
He must have gone off investigating, the blasted man.