Page 81 of Juliet's Touch

A waterfall of tears cascaded down her cheeks, soaking her chin and neck. “I don’t know. I guess because she got to be withyou last night, and I had to be with him. And I hate her for it. But it doesn’t mean I want him to hurt her. And I’m…I’m sorry.”

Eric roared.

“I’m sorry, Eric,” Abigail said between her whimpers.

He hated that Abigail’s heart was hurting. He detested that this was her life, but he couldn’t excuse her jealousy or accept her apology while Juliet was in danger.

“If you will excuse me,” he said, “I need to find them before he hurts her.”

She blinked her wet lashes, and then, shoulders sagging, Abigail scampered away.

Eric bolted to his trousers and hurriedly dressed. Grabbing the black bag from beneath his bed, he tossed it over his shoulder. He sprinted down the back staircase into the kitchen, where Mrs. Paulson leaned over a mangled loaf of bread that had fallen onto the floor. His missing oil lamp sat on the large worktable.

He didn’t even bother with a polite greeting; he simply called, “Have you seen a pretty blonde woman or Lord Riley this morning?”

Mrs. Paulson’s brow furrowed. “No. I stayed up late last night baking bread and pies. A bit too late, if truth be told. So, I overslept. I just walked in to find this.” She pointed at the bread. “I think this is blood.”

Eric squatted beside her. Sure enough, drops of blood dotted both the bread and the floor. He moaned.

“What is it, my dear?” she asked.

When Eric found them, Riley was a dead man. “I have to go. I’ll explain later.” He stood and started toward the door, halting mid-step because Flynn entered the kitchen.

“What am I doin’ up at this God forsaken, feckin’ hour?” Flynn asked while rubbing his eyes.

Auntie and Imogene were right behind Flynn. Auntie still wore her nightclothes. Imogene’s dark curls were held in place by her mobcap, and she grasped a feather duster in her fist.

Abigail brought up the rear, tears dripping from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Eric. I was worried.”

If Abigail had awoken everyone, hoping that they might convince him not to go after Riley, she’d roused his loved ones for no reason. The entire Cavalry couldn’t stop him. He stomped toward the back door.

“Eric,” Auntie said, her voice gentle. “Slow down and tell us what is wrong.”

“Riley has the woman I love,” Eric said. “And I think he has already hurt her.”

“There is blood on the floor,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I don’t know what happened, but it seems my bread was involved, and my knife is missing.”

Auntie gasped as she brought a hand to her heart.

“Where do you think he took her?” Flynn asked.

“His family’s townhouse in Mayfair,” Eric said confidently. However, panic squeezed his lungs. It would take a long time to get across London, and what if that wasn’t where they were? “Where is my horse stabled?” he asked Flynn.

“Nagshead Mews,” Flynn said. “Behind The Old Smoke Tavern.”

Eric once again headed toward the back door.

“He might have taken her to his private apartment,” Abigail said, her voice meek.

Eric halted and faced her. “Where is that?”

“High Street,” Abigail said. “Above the High Street Exchange and across from—”

“Malestorm’s office,” Eric finished. It figured the like-minded devils had more in common than harassing the fairer sex, neighbors, and all.

Abigail nodded. “He sometimes tells me about taking other women there. Says he wants to take me. But I don’t want to go there.”

Auntie crossed her arms over her chest. “I never let my girls leave this building.”