CHAPTER 2

THE COURAGE THAT HAD propelled Thalia to storm the home of the Murderous Marquess had deserted her as soon as she encountered the imposing figure of said marquess. She had not expected him to be home. It was common knowledge he had left the country years ago following the scandal of his wife's death.

Yet here he was. And he was even more imposing in person than the dangerous sobriquet led one to believe. Oh, yes. The man looked dangerous. But not in a murderous way. She could not imagine this man killing someone in the shadows. He was more like a conqueror that no one would dare stop.

He stood tall, his commanding presence hinting at undeniable strength. She was tall for a woman, but this man dwarfed her. Next to his muscular frame, she looked almost...dainty. An adjective no one, least of all her, would apply to herself.

Long, silvery hair framed his chiseled, masculine features, giving him an almost ethereal, yet formidable appearance. His sharp, silver eyes had impaled her from the moment she had dared to invade his domain. Piercing and keen, his gaze seemed to miss nothing. It made her feel like a lowly mouse spotted by a falcon.

He was a man who demanded attention and respect, his mere presence enough to dominate a room. And she had walked into his lair.

"I don't know how to find them. I came here hoping to locate them," she admitted.

"You came alone?"

"Yes."

"Has no one told you that you shouldn't visit the residence of a bachelor unchaperoned?" Now he seemed annoyed.

Thalia gulped. "I am a widow, my lord. I don't need a chaperone. Coming here might have been a tad reckless, but I saw no other recourse."

He turned without a word and stalked down the hallway. His movements exuded a quiet confidence as he tossed over his shoulder, "Come along then if you wish, Lady Renier, but I warn you that if your reputation suffers as a result of your visit, I won't be held responsible."

Well, she never! Of all the arrogant, condescending things to say... And yet she followed him. As much for his compelling presence as for the need to find out more about her sister's whereabouts.

He entered a spacious study and sat behind a massive desk. Any other person would have been dwarfed by the desk, but it suited him. She entered behind him, leaving the door open, then hesitated for a second. When he rudely didn't invite her to sit, she sat in one of the chairs that faced the desk. His eyebrow shot up at her defiance, but she would be damned if she would stand in front of him like a petitioner.

"Do you have any idea where they might have gone? Has your sister left any clues? Mentioned anything?"

"Nothing, my lord. I learned today of my sister's betrothal to your brother and of their subsequent elopement. Very uncharacteristic, as my sister and I are very close. I would have expected her to write to me about such important news."

"I see. Well, there's no help for it then." He ordered the footman stationed by the door to send his man of business and his brother's valet to him at once.

When the two other men arrived, Lord Ashford impaled them with a steely gaze.

"It has come to my attention that Lord Andrew has eloped with a young lady. Did you have any notion that my brother planned something like this?" he asked. His voice was no less autocratic for being well modulated and affable.

The man of business spoke first. "He asked me several days ago to apply for a special license. But I didn't know he planned to elope."

"Yesterday, he requested I pack a week's worth of clothing and told me he was traveling. However, I was also unaware of his intention to elope," the valet added.

"I see." The marquess studied the two harried servants, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Was there anything else of note? Any mention of a city? A note, a name?"

The two servants looked back wide-eyed, wearing similar expressions of consternation and helplessness. The marquess tapped his fingers on the desk, a staccato march that no doubt added to the tension in the room.

At last, the valet said, "I believe he sent a telegram, my lord."

The tapping stopped, the marquess's gaze sharpening. "You wouldn't have the address he sent it to? Or the name of the addressee?"

"No, my lord. But the footman who sent it might."

The marquess rang for the butler and inquired about the footman in question. A minute later, a tall young man with intelligent eyes walked in and bowed.

"You sent a telegram at my brother's request?" the marquess said, more than asked.

"I did, my lord."

"Do you remember the address or a name?"

"I do, my lord. The recipient was Reverend James Langley of Elvington."

"Where on earth is Elvington?"

The footman hesitated. "Not sure, my lord. But I had the impression it was in the north. Near York."

"Oh, for pity's sake!" the marquess exclaimed. "The little whelp couldn't have waited for me in London? I've been traveling for days. Haring off to York was not what I had in mind right after arriving home."

That's it. She had heard enough. She had the information she required to pursue her sister. Apparently, they had made arrangements with this vicar to marry them. She stood to leave.

"Thank you for the information, my lord. I bid you goodbye."

She found herself the recipient of his piercing gaze. "Where do you think you are going, Lady Renier?"

She strove for a casual tone as she strode towards the door. "Why, to find my sister, of course."

"On your own?"

The hint of mockery in his tone was exceedingly irritating.

"That is not your concern, my lord."

"My brother's fate is certainly my concern." He was all aristocratic hauteur. "I'll be going after them myself. May I offer you a ride?"

"That won't be necessary. Thank you."

With that, she reached the door, opened it, and walked through. She needed to get away from the disconcerting marquess. The man was not good for her sanity.