Whirlwind Wedding by Jacquie D'Alessandro Page B

entered the drawing room. Even though some two dozen people milled about, her height made her extremely easy to pick out. Another scan of the room only confirmed she was not present. She must have excused herself to see to personal needs. He headed toward the decanters and managed to convince himself he was glad she was not in the room.
    After she'd still failed to appear twenty minutes later, however, he grew concerned. He approached Caroline and casually asked about Elizabeth's whereabouts.
    "She wasn't feeling well and retired immediately after dinner," Caroline said her blue eyes studying him with interest. "Why do you ask?"
    "I was merely curious. Is she ill?"
    "She had the headache. I'm sure she'll be fine in the morning, although Viscount Farrington is crushed by her departure."
    Austin's fingers tightened around his snifter.
    "Is he?"
    "Yes. He's quite smitten. I understand he asked Lady Penbroke's permission to call on Elizabeth."
    A muscle twitched in his jaw and he had to squelch a sudden, overwhelming desire to inflict bodily harm on Viscount Farrington.
    Lively curiosity gleamed in Caroline's eyes. "I hope Elizabeth's headache isn't the result of whatever adventure you two shared this morning. You never did say what happened to you."
    "I wouldn't dream of boring you with the details."
    "Nonsense. I love details."
    She made me laugh. I held her in my arms. I touched her. I kissed her. I want to do it again. Right now. "There's nothing to tell, Caroline."
    "I wish Robert had been here to see you covered with mud."
    Austin was heartily grateful that his younger brother had not been present. Robert no doubt would have split his breeches from laughing and then have asked a hundred teasing questions. "When is he expected to return from his travels?"
    "Within the next several days," Caroline answered.
    A footman approached and held out a silver salver with a wax-sealed note. "A message for you, your grace."
    Grateful for the interruption, Austin took the note. When he saw the distinctive imprint on the wax, he stilled.
    "Is something wrong, Austin?" Caroline asked.
    He forced himself to offer her a smile. "Everything is fine. Just a small matter that requires my attention. Please excuse me."
    Leaving the drawing room, he made his way to his study, closing the door behind him. His hands shook as he slipped his fingers beneath the easily recognizable seal of his Bow Street Runner. Had he found Gaspard?
    Tipping back his head, he closed his eyes for a brief moment. What he was about to read might well give him the answers he'd sought for so long.
    With his jaw clenched to the point of pain, he opened the note and anxiously-scanned the contents.
    Your Grace:
    I have information for you. Per our prearranged agreement, I will await you at the ruins at the north border of your property.
    James Kinney
    Austin read the brief missive again, his fingers gripping the vellum so hard he was surprised it didn't crumble apart. Kinney was the finest Bow Street had to offer. He wouldn't have traveled to Bradford Hall at night if he didn't have something important to report.
    Locking the note in his desk drawer, Austin left his study and hurried down the back staircase. Slipping from the house, he kept to the shadows and walked swiftly to the stables. When he instructed Mortlin to saddle Myst, the groom looked up at the sky and scratched his head. "Are ye certain ye want to ride, yer grace? It's fixin' to storm soon. Me achin' joints can always tell."
    Austin looked up and saw only the bright full moon. If a storm was even in the offing, it had to be hours away. But no matter. Nothing would keep him from meeting Kinney. "I want to ride. There's no need to await my return. I'll take care of Myst when I get back."
    "Yes, yer grace."
    Moments later, Austin vaulted into the saddle. He applied his heels to Myst's sides and the gelding took off in the direction of the ruins.
    Mortlin watched him go, absently rubbing his sore elbows. The