― Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire

Rhea stared in shock at the man sitting on her bed, watching her with what seemed to be nonchalance, but Rhea saw the watchful way he took in their surroundings. Rhea hugged her robe closer to her body, a cold chill running down her spine.

“My Lord Utteridge? What are you doing in my room?” Rhea asked warily, glancing back and forth, looking for some way out.

The older man smiled at her, teeth and all, and it made Rhea feel as if they had established a predator and prey relationship; she being the prey.

“Do you know your husband has been tracking me like an animal for these past few months?” he stated casually.

Rhea’s eyes widened. That is what he has been doing? She thought. Why hadn’t he told her earlier? Why were they after Lord Utteridge?

“I . . . I’m sorry to hear that,” Rhea was at a loss for words. Utteridge grinned at her. “I don’t understand why you are in my room, though, my lord.”

Utteridge waved his hand, as if batting away her concerns. He gave her another chilling smile. “All in due time, my dear. I must say, a part of me understands his fascination with you, but the other half just sees a slip of a girl, nothing special.”

Rhea became indignant, not at all comprehending what he was trying to tell her. She shifted slightly on her feet. Where was Leia? Where was Ashwin? Surely they were wondering about her.

“I must ask you to leave, my lord, as it is not proper for you to be in my rooms without my husband or a chaperone-”

He cut her off, “It doesn’t matter anyway, my dear, we won’t be here for long.”

Rhea held back the fear that was eager to flow out. She had to get someone to notice her in her room; perhaps a cry of distress will raise alarm to any neighboring occupied rooms? Rhea prepared to do just that, opening her mouth, but Utteridge strode forward, grabbing her jaw with a single hand and clenching.

“I would not do that if I were you, my lady, we would not want to cause . . . any casualties.”

Rhea’s brows raised, “Casualties?”

Utteridge turned toward the adjourning door, “Bring her in.”

The door opened to reveal Leia, still in her day dress from this afternoon, arms bound behind her, a cloth in her mouth, and her hair disheveled. Rhea’s mouth opened on a slight cry. Utteridge gripped her harder.

“Careful, my lady, not a peep to be heard from you. Understand?” Utteridge warned.

Rhea took that moment to look behind Leia, to the person who had opened the door and brought her in, holding a gun to Leia’s side. Rhea’s eyes widened once more in despair and betrayal.

“Lord Ashwin?” she uttered in disbelief. He had the sense to look ashamed, looking to Rhea’s side at Utteridge, and then straightening. He looked determined.

“I’m sorry, Rhea, it had to be done.” He said convincingly, as if it were perfectly alright to bound and gag one’s friend.

“What . . . How could you-?”

“Enough. Time is of the essence. It won’t take long before your dear husband comes looking for you, and I’ve yet to send him his invitation. Now, if you make one sound, one false move, Lady Edmond dies. Do you understand me?” Utterdige asked forcefully.

Rhea looked at Lord Ashwin, at the gun he had shoved against her dear friend’s side, and then came to rest on the despicable man beside her. “I understand.”

Hadrian had rode all the way to London, to his manor, without stopping once. He arrived at his main home with Dalton in tow. Clarke was already waiting outside, along with Rhea’s maid, Lily. Hadrian’s stomach clenched.

Clarke glanced at him, his form stiff, waiting for Hadrian to approach him. All seemed normal, until Hadrian drew closer to the butler and saw the anxiety and panic flaring in his eyes. Hadrian swallowed harshly.

“Where is she?” he demanded. Clarke opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He seemed stuck for words, as if he had become mute in the time Hadrian had been away. Hadrian became even more frustrated, bordering desperation. He grabbed Clarke by his shoulders and shook the man. “Where is my wife?”

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” Clarke uttered. “She isn’t here, I don’t know where she is. No one can find her.”

Hadrian began shaking, it was subtle, but undeniable. “When? When was the last time you saw her?”

Lily, Rhea’s ladies maid, spoke up then. “Your Grace, she went out for an outing, I told her it was no good, in her condition, but she did not care for my advice and went off to retrieve Lady Edmond for their walk in Central London.”

Dalton, who had been standing quietly, meditatively, in the background, looked up and stepped in beside Hadrian. “Lady Edmond was with Her Grace?”

Lily nodded quickly. “I’m sure of it, m’lord. The missus told me herself.”

Dalton glanced at Hadrian. Hadrian was still out of focus, trying to grasp anything around him to ground him to his feet. “I will check the Edmond’s holding. Mayhap she decided to spend the eve with them. Stay here, we might receive a message from her, just in case. You’ve already set the Runner’s out, there’s naught else to do.”

Hadrian exhaled violently and turned away from the group, looking out at the evening sky. Dear God, he thought, please, please let my wife be safe.

After a few moments he turned to his friend and nodded succinctly, urging him to go, “See if you can find them there, I will do as you say and wait, should there arrive a message.”

Dalton nodded tersely and backed away, the stables had prepared another horse for his ride and he jumped onto the gelding in one swift move and was off into the night the next.

Hadrian clenched his fists, staring after his friend. “I’ll kill that bastard if he’s touched my wife.”

He rushed into the house, looking to Clarke to set everything up. “Be on the lookout for any riders, there will be traffic, so don’t block the hallways to and fro my study.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Clarke bowed stiffly and pivoted back inside the manor, shouting directions to the staff.

Hadrian strode off to wait anxiously at his oak desk.

He rode fast and hard to the Edmond’s holdgings, praying that Hadrian’s wife and her friend, Leia, were there, safe and sound. When he finally arrived at the front entrance of the house, he locked, his fist pounding the hard door.

Moments later, the butler creaked open the door and glanced out at him with a scowl. It changed quickly when he noticed the grave expression on the Earl’s face.

“Where is Lord and Lady Edmond? Is their daughter home?” he asked quickly.

The butler’s eyebrows rose in curiosity, “My Lord, I’m afraid that it is a little late for a call . . .”

“Get Lord Edmond. Now.” Dalton urged. The butler’s eyes widened and he closed the door, nodding his consent. Another few moments revealed Leia Edmond’s father at the doorway, a surprised look on his face.

“My lord, I didn’t expect any visitors this eve,” Lord Edmond stated. Dalton nodded rushedly.

“I understand, Lord Edmond, I’m afraid I must enquire if the young Miss Edmond and Lady Vale are here?”

Lord Edmond’s eyebrows pressed together. “I’m afraid not, my lord. I believe my daughter and the duke’s wife went into town this noontime, I thought my daughter had decided to reside with Lady Vale.”

Dalton’s lips pressed together. He was reluctant to reveal where his daughter might actually be, so he provided a slight smile to the lord and said he would check in with the Vale’s tomorrow morning.

Lord Edmond hadn’t seemed convinced with his statement, but reluctantly agreed that he could check with the duke’s holdings tomorrow morn.

Dalton bid him a good eve and turned back into the night shrouded streets. His fists clenched. Utteridge would pay for this. Dalton hoisted himself atop his horse and turned toward England’s Castle, housing the King and Queen.

There was only one thing left for him to do.