It had become a ritual for him to find her wherever she was in the afternoon, and more often than not they ended up on the nearest flat surface, clothes scattered about. She couldn’t get enough of Redmond or his irresistible touch.
“Yes, please. I’ll most likely be in the library.” She’d grown obsessed with the vast collection of books he had there.
“Good.” He cupped her chin and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lip. The way he stared at her mouth made her tremble and ache. He truly was a wicked man, one who knew exactly how to kindle her darkest desires.
She watched him and Devil head for his study before she ventured into the library. A happy grin spread over her face as she collected several books and sat down to read in her favorite wingback chair by the fire. As she turned the pages, she daydreamed about Christmas at Frostmore and the magic it would bring back into her life and Redmond’s. They had both grown so wary of love and trust that neither of them had felt alive in far too long. Her stepfather had turned her from a girl who had enjoyed life into a young woman who feared being used, being controlled.
I’m safe here with Red, for now. Safe.
Yet even as she thought the words, she had the eerie sense of something dark and terrible on the horizon, coming for her.
Redmond settled into his chair in his study, and Devil sat at his feet, gnawing on a thick bone the cook had saved for him. Redmond ruffled the short-cropped hair on the dog’s head before reaching for the nearest stack of letters. The first were several reports on the shipping companies he held interests in based out of Dover, followed by a few from the sheep farmers who had tenant properties on his estate. Finances were tight for the farmers at the moment, so he would move some money from the shipping accounts to tide over the farmers and their families until spring.
The last letter in the stack had a fancy red wax seal. He broke it and unfolded the paper to read the contents. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he crumpled the edges of the paper. A black rage rose up in him like a violent summer storm.
It was a letter from Harriet’s stepfather, George Halifax, and he was searching for his beloved daughter who had stolen his coach and his driver.
How dare this man write to him? They had no acquaintances, no social connections. Redmond read the rest of the letter, his hands clutching the paper tight.
He professed that the young woman was mad, a danger to herself and others. Her mother had recently died, leaving the girl with no one in her life to mold her into respectable feminine behavior after she had become so dangerously willful. George requested that if Redmond knew of her whereabouts to write to him at once so he could come and collect her and bring her home.
The rage that had come upon him so swiftly began to fade as a hint of doubt crept in. Much of what George had said could easily be taken as the truth. Harriet had pulled a sword on him. She’d walked out in the snow in nothing but a nightgown and nearly walked off the cliffs. She not only believed she’d seen ghosts, but she had seen the past through them.
Yet he’d seen the curtains move in his chamber that night they’d first made love. He’d felt that unnatural chill associated with the spirit world and had sworn he caught a fleeting glimpse of his brother. But everything he had experienced could be dismissed with rational explanations, whereas her experiences could not be explained. The edge of doubt remained, a sliver of whispering darkness in his mind.
Redmond stared at the page a long time, weighing what he’d come to know of Harriet against the claims in the letter. He had, luckily, one more witness to ask on the matter. He set the note down and left his study, Devil following on his heels. He entered the service area belowstairs, startling his poor cook and sending two footmen and a scullery maid dashing out of his way. He found Mr. Johnson in the servants’ dining hall, finishing his noonday meal. The man had remained here at his estate, along with George’s coach, while the driver’s broken leg healed.
“Your Grace.” Mr. Johnson reached for his crutches, which were leaning against the edge of the table next to his half-eaten soup and bread.
“Please, stay seated. I have a few questions for you.”
Mr. Johnson waited, his hands fluttering in his lap as he toyed with his napkin. “I’ll answer as best I can.”
“I need only the truth. Nothing you say will have you removed from my home, nor have you face any other trouble. Is that understood? You may speak freely without fear of repercussions.”
“I understand, Your Grace,” the driver answered.
“Harriet’s stepfather, George Halifax. What sort of man is he?” When Mr. Johnson hesitated, Redmond encouraged, “The truth, please.”
“He’s not the best of men,” Mr. Johnson began. “He has a sharp tongue, and he’s been known to strike a servant a time or two.”
“And what of Harriet and her mother? How did he treat them?”
“He was nice enough at first, I suppose, like lots of men are when they want something. Miss Emmaline was such a sweet lady, but she had a desperate look about her. Mr. Halifax saw that and took advantage. Miss Harriet was still a girl when she and her mother moved in. Thursley was bigger than anywhere they’d ever lived before, and they weren’t used to being waited upon. It was rather nice, the way they thanked us downstairs staff for anything we did.” Mr. Johnson’s face reddened. “Not to say I needed that. It’s my job, after all, but it’s nice to be appreciated for hard work once in a while.”
He cleared his throat before he continued. “Well, after a year or so, my master started to show his true self. Miss Emmaline was able to handle him, even the few times he struck her, but she was more worried about Harriet. You see, when Miss Emmaline married my master, he convinced her to sign a guardianship agreement. Until Harriet’s twentieth birthday, he has full rights over her. That was meant to protect her, but recently the house realized it also meant he could control her, hurt her, starve her, prevent her even from escaping by marriage. All without consequence. The staff did their best to look out for her. The cook would put a light sleeping draft in the master’s food to make him tired on those nights when she saw the evil gleam in his eyes.”
Redmond could barely contain the rage bubbling inside him. A wave of self-loathing followed as he recalled how he had tried to frighten Harriet. He had been no better than her stepfather, though he’d had no intention to hurt her, let alone ravish her. But she hadn’t known that.
“Do you believe he will come after her?” Redmond asked Mr. Johnson.
“Yes. I’m surprised he hasn’t tracked us here already. I knew the moment I helped Miss Russell escape him that I would lose my employment there. He will no doubt accuse me of stealing the coach and have me imprisoned.”
“Mr. Johnson, consider yourself under my employment. Once you’re healed, your duty will be to watch out for Miss Russell.” He started to go but paused and asked the driver one last thing. “When does she turn twenty?” Redmond wished Harriet had trusted him sooner with all of this. He could have been taking measures to protect her. As a duke he had some power, but he wasn’t sure he could override a guardian without facing a magistrate.
“January seventh, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson.” The driver bowed his head as Redmond left. He had to find Harriet, if only to assure himself that she was safe. As he entered the great hall, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. But not by living eyes…
