Without another word to the troupers, Athena ran back upstairs and threw open the wardrobe. On one of the shelves she found a pair of trousers and a flannel shirt. She pulled out a pair of old boots and quickly made a bundle of the clothing, cinching it with a braided leather cord. She carried the bundle outside, dropped it in the snow, stripped, and Changed.
Wolf’s jaws closed around the cord. She could reach Denver much more quickly in wolf shape, but there was no telling when she might catch up with Niall. If she found him in the city, she would need the clothing.
She would need every tiny advantage she could get.
Human voices shouted, severing her thoughts. She had been seen, and no rancher would balk at shooting a wolf. She burst from a standstill into a dead run. Rifle shot cracked in her wake. Pellets of snow brushed her fur, and a second bullet exploded in the ground where she had been an instant before. Then she was beyond human reach, headed unerringly toward Denver.
It was when she had reached the foothills, just as the sun was sinking behind the Front Range, that she remembered the significance of this night, the detail she had so completely put from her mind. It was the night of the Winter Ball.
She barked a wolf’s laugh around the leather between her teeth. The ball. The very pinnacle of her social life, the event of which she had been so inordinately proud. What had once seemed worth a year’s painstaking effort had become just another self-indulgent folly, a consolation prize to a woman who had misplaced the true meaning of life.
Cecily would be at the ball, lording it over everyone. Nothing would stop her, not even Athena’s escape and its possible consequences to her designs upon Niall. Niall would expect Athena to be there under Cecily’s vigilant eye. But he would not find his sister. Not before she found him.
Tonight’s Winter Ball would indeed be one to remember.
“I am sorry, Mr. Munroe” the unfamiliar servant said with a diffident shake of his head, “but Miss Hockensmith has gone to the ball.”
The Winter Ball. Dammit, he had entirely forgotten about that bit of foolishness. Cecily had mentioned that she’d changed the venue to the Windsor, but he’d forgotten that as well.
Nothing tonight was what it should be. There had been no groom lodged in the rooms over the stable to take his and Caitlin’s weary mounts. Romero was gone. The house was noticeably devoid of servants. Niall stood in the hall of his own home, staring into the face of a man he did not know. Caitlin waited behind him, her gaze taking in the vastness of the high ceiling and the gilt and marble embellishments. She was no more lost than he.
“Who the devil are you?” he demanded, tossing the servant his gloves. “Where is Brinkley?”
“I regret to say that Mr. Brinkley has tendered his resignation,” the man said with an air of false regret. “Miss Hockensmith felt it necessary to replace him and the other servants who have since departed.”
Good God. Had the entire world fallen apart in the short time he had been gone? “The other servants?”
The man cleared his throat. “There have been a number of changes in the staff during the past several days, sir. You may wish to consult Miss Hockensmith for the details. Would you and the young lady care to rest in the parlor while I send for tea?”
“Miss Munroe has accompanied Miss Hockensmith to the ball?”
This time the butler was not so quick with an answer. “I… am not informed as to Miss Munroe’s whereabouts, sir.”
“What do you mean?” Niall seized the man’s collar. “Where is my sister?”
“Sir… I… ah—” He choked and went very pale. “She has not been in residence since my arrival. Miss Hockensmith said that… that she had run mad, threatening to… to kill Miss Hockensmith if she attempted to restrain Miss Munroe. That is… all I know!”
Niall let him fall to the ground. Athena, run mad? Escaped? And Cecily had traipsed off to the ball as if all was well, knowing where Athena must have gone. The sudden resignation and hiring of servants was nothing compared to this.