His lashes lifted, and his dark eyes stared into hers. One large hand slid over hers, pressing it to the taut contours of his chest. “Yes?”

“If anything ever happened to you, I…” She paused as she heard the sound of vigorous knocking at the door of the suite. Her reverie was broken by the intrusive sound. “Hmm…who could that be?”

The interruption caused annoyance to cross Simon’s features. “Did you send for something?”

Shaking her head, Annabelle rose to her feet and reached for a length of toweling to dry her hands.

“Ignore it.”

Annabelle smiled wryly as the rapping became more insistent. “I don’t think our visitor will give up that easily. I suppose I’ll have to go see who it is.” She left the bathing room and closed the door gently, allowing Simon to finish his bath in privacy.

Striding to the entrance of the suite, Annabelle opened the door. “Jeremy!” Her pleasure at her brother’s unexpected visit vanished quickly as she saw his expression. His young face was pale and set, and his mouth was clamped in a grim line. He was hatless and coatless, and his hair was in wild disarray. “Jeremy, is something wrong?” she asked, welcoming him into the suite.

“You could say that.”

Reading the barely suppressed panic in his gaze, she stared at him with increasing concern. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Jeremy raked a hand through his hair, causing the thick golden brown strands to stand on end. “The fact is—” He paused with a dumbfounded expression, as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

“The fact is what?” Annabelle demanded.

“The fact is…our mother just stabbed someone.”

Annabelle regarded her brother with blank-faced confusion. Gradually a scowl spread across her features. “Jeremy,” she said sternly, “this is the most distasteful prank you’ve ever—”

“It’s not a prank! I wish to hell it was.”

Annabelle made no effort to hide her skepticism. “Whom is she supposed to have stabbed?”

“Lord Hodgeham. One of Papa’s old friends—do you remember him?”

Suddenly, the color drained from Annabelle’s face, and a shock of horror went through her. “Yes,” she heard herself whisper. “I remember him.”

“Apparently he came to the house this evening while I was out with friends—I returned home early— and when I crossed the threshold, I saw blood on the entrance floor.”

Annabelle shook her head slightly, trying to take in the words.

“I followed the trail into the parlor,” Jeremy continued, “where the cook-maid was in hysterics, and the footman was trying to clean a puddle of blood from the carpet, while Mama stood there like a statue, not saying a word. There was a pair of bloody scissors on the table—the ones she uses for needlework. From what I could get out of the servants, Hodgeham went into the parlor with Mama, there were sounds of an argument, then Hodgeham came staggering out with his hands clasping his chest.”

Annabelle’s mind began to work at twice its usual speed, her thoughts racing madly. She and Philippa had always hidden the truth from Jeremy, who had been away at school whenever Hodgeham had called. As far as Annabelle knew, Jeremy had never been aware that Hodgeham had visited the house. He would be devastated if he realized that some of the money that had paid his school bills had been given in exchange for…no, he must not find out. She would have to make up some explanation. Later. The most important thing for now was to protect Philippa.

“Where is Hodgeham now?” Annabelle asked. “How severely was he injured?”

“I have no idea. It seems that he went to the back entrance where his carriage was waiting, and his own footman and driver carried him away.” Jeremy shook his head wildly. “I don’t know where Mama stabbed him, or how many times, or even why. She won’t say— just looks at me as if she can’t remember her own name.”

“Where is she now? Don’t say you just left her at home by herself?”

“I told the footman to watch her every minute, and not to let her—” Jeremy broke off and directed a wary glance to a point beyond Annabelle’s shoulder. “Hello, Mr. Hunt. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but I’ve come because—”

“Yes, I heard. Your voice carried to the next room.” Simon stood there calmly tucking the tail of a fresh shirt into his trousers, his gaze alert as he stared at Jeremy.

Turning, Annabelle went cold at the sight of her husband. There were times when she forgot how intimidating Simon could be, but at the moment, with his pitiless eyes and complete lack of expression, he looked as ruthless as a killer-for-hire.

“Why did Hodgeham come to the house at such an hour?” Jeremy wondered aloud, his young face fraught with worry. “And why the hell did Mama receive him? And what would have provoked her like that? He must have tricked her somehow. He must have said something about Papa…or maybe even made an advance to her, the filthy bastard.”

In the tension-riddled silence that followed Jeremy’s innocent speculations, Annabelle opened her mouth to say something, and Simon shook his head slightly, silencing her. He turned his attention fully to Jeremy, his voice cool and quiet. “Jeremy, run to the stables at the back of the hotel and have my carriage hitched to a team. And tell them to saddle my horse. After that, go home to collect the carpet and bloodstained clothes and take them to the locomotive works—the first building on the lot. Mention my name, and the manager won’t ask questions. There is a furnace—”