But the ball must go on. Everyone agreed, most solemnly, that Cecily was holding up very well. She had done everything she could, but Munroe had expected too much in asking her to care for a madwoman. Poor, demented Athena had done so much to create the ball, even if she had turned her back on society as well as sanity. It would be the height of irresponsibility to cancel the affair and deprive the blameless unfortunates who would benefit from the money collected.
So Cecily had forged ahead, swallowing her unease. She well knew she had Niall to face, assuming he returned from his confrontation with Holt. Perhaps he would not. Cecily felt only a lingering regret at the prospect. If Athena was mad—and clearly she was—he might be unstable as well. She could no longer bring herself to believe that marriage to Niall Munroe brought advantages enough to outweigh the disadvantages—particularly when she had begun to make some very promising acquaintances among Denver’s wealthy bachelors.
Cecily issued a brave smile for the benefit of her peers and declined a dance offer from one such gentleman. Best to appear a little reserved, a little sorrowful over the recent events than seem too quick to dismiss them. There would be ample time for celebration after the ball, when her new social position was firmly established and she had dealt with Niall. If he survived.
She was speaking to Mrs. Gottschalk, her back to the ballroom doors, when the murmur of many voices swelled to the buzzing of a disturbed hive of bees. The music lurched to a halt. Cecily paused in her solemn speech and turned around.
Niall Munroe stood in the doorway, mud-splattered and dressed as if he had arrived straight from the wilderness, which very likely he had. At his shoulder stood the red-haired creature Caitlin, as bedraggled as he.
Cecily shrank in on herself as if she could hide from the gaze that raked the crowd. Voices lifted in question, but no one approached Niall. He exuded violence like a rabid dog.
“Does he know?” someone whispered behind her.
“Why would he be here if he did not? Look at his face!”
“The poor man…”
“He must have known she was mad.”
Oh, he knew; of that Cecily was certain. He had concealed Athena’s lunacy behind a mask of propriety and dependence. And he also knew that she was missing. He had surely been to the house and spoken to the servants.
Cecily tried to breathe and felt her corset tighten about her chest. She should be well prepared for this moment. She knew what she ought to do. She would appear all the more heroic if she placed herself at Niall’s disposal before he came in search of her.
But her feet would not carry her. Niall scanned each corner of the room, and at last his gaze fell upon her.
He moved like a man bent upon murder. Cecily braced for attack.
“You let her go,” he snarled, oblivious of several hundred pairs of eyes. “Where is she?”
Cecily drew upon her dignity and clasped her hands in an attitude of deep concern. “Mr. Munroe. I understand why you are upset. I am sure this has been quite a shock. If only I had been able to reach you.” She would not ask him to find a more private place to talk. She wanted the safety of witnesses.
“I trusted you to watch her!” he shouted. “You let her go… you always wanted her out of the way, didn’t you?”
A woman exclaimed in frightened tones. “He is as mad as she!” another cried.
“Mr. Munroe,” Mr. Osborn said, moving to Cecily’s defense. “Please lower your voice. There are ladies present, and this is not the time or place to—”
Niall struck out and sent the man staggering back. Caitlin caught his arm and hung on as fiercely as a bulldog. A wave of motion rippled outward from the disturbance as ladies and gentlemen scurried away.
“It is not… it is not what you think,” Cecily said. “She attacked me. She threatened me with serious harm. The servants took her part against me. I had no choice but to allow her to leave. Of course I contacted the police immediately, but… your sister is not well, Mr. Munroe. You must believe I would never have willingly let her go.”