Her face was contorted in rage, her eyes glazed with a wild frenzy.
Gwyneth’s breath couldn’t make it all the way down her lungs. She just stared at Cook, paralyzed by her adversary’s violent stance.
“No one will stop me from killing the king’s son.”
And before Gwyneth could react, the woman swung the heavy candlestick above her head.
Gwyneth jerked away, but the solid metal struck squarely against the side of her head. The punishing impact propelled Gwyneth backward. Writhing in intense pain, bright lights flickered in front of her eyes before the murky black descended.
Chapter Eleven
Ash’s head hurt like a son of bitch. He didn’t remember over-indulging, but he had an agonizing headache, his mouth was dry and his body ached. This was worse than any hangover he had experienced during his days at Oxford. He couldn’t stop the insistent burning and throbbing behind his eyes. The din from Worthy exacerbated the excruciating pain. He prayed to drift back into the empty black void and find peace.
Bright lights flashed, penetrated, despite his closed eyes. He was going to kill Worthy for opening the curtains.
“God damn it, man. Wake up. Gwyneth is missing.”
Ash sat straight up, jolted awake. His heart thundered in his chest like a heavy drum with his sudden motion.
He stared at Brinsley, trying to comprehend what was happening. “Gwyneth?” He could barely speak. His voice was parched, as if he had been on a fortnight bender.
Worthy handed him a glass of water. He gulped down the water and pushed his legs from under the covers.
“You need to sip the water, sir. You don’t want to be sick again.”
Swinging his legs to the side of the bed made the room spin, and Ash felt as if he might vomit. He couldn’t remember being ill. “What’s happened to Gwyneth?”
“Amelia and I’ve searched her room and spoken with her maid. She told Lizzie that she was going to sleep, but her bed wasn’t touched. And her pelisse is missing, as if she went out.”
Ash stood up, naked. His legs were rubbery and weak. He had a faint memory of being dragged. “Get my clothes. I must find her.”
“But, sir, you’re not recovered.” Worthy stood next to Ash, expecting that he might fall and prepared to assist.
“Recovered from what?” Ash didn’t have time for illness. His symptoms had disappeared as rage pulsing through his body at the idea of Gwyneth missing or hurt. He dressed in his smalls and pantaloons.
Brinsley stepped closer. “You were poisoned. We don’t know by whom.”
“What the hell—poisoned?” Ash slipped on his shirt. “How long have I been out of commission?”
“Less than a day, but Gwyneth was exhausted from taking care of you. Amelia took her to her room, expecting her maid to attend to her while you slept. Amelia came upstairs to check on Gwyneth and found her missing.”
“Damnation. How long has it been since the maid saw Gwyneth?” Ash pulled on his boots.
“Since dinnertime, more than two hours ago.”
“A two hour delay.” Fear and anger swirled in a fomenting mess inside him. “We must act immediately. She could be captured or…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“With the snow, her captors can’t escape without leaving a trail. I’ve got men checking the grounds”
“Snow?” Ash asked.
“While you were out, at least two feet have fallen.”
“Good.” A moment of relief flowed through him. “That keeps our assailants trapped. Where have you searched in the house?”
“I didn’t want to alert the staff, so I haven’t searched the downstairs yet. I’ve searched the guest wing. Amelia is with Gwyneth’s maid. I came here to get further instructions since I didn’t know who can be trusted in the household.”
Ash walked to his desk and pulled out his pistol. He tucked the weapon into his waistband. “My jacket, Worthy.”
“Gwyneth was previously assaulted in the conservatory. I’m going to search there first. Find Lord