So, he nodded.
“Fair enough,” he said softly. “But I am not so cruel as to send you off in a mail coach. I will provide a carriage, and if you will not accept that, then at the very least you will allow me to hire a hack for wherever you plan to go. And you must also take enough money to assure me you will have a roof and a bed until you get…on your feet.”
His blood iced as he looked at her. The most common source of income for a young girl living alone in the streets required her to remain on her back, not her feet. What kind of a man was her stepfather that she would willfully choose such a life over returning home?
Miss Pemberton slumped, defeated. “That is,ifI live through the worsening aftereffects long enough to prove you innocent.”
Her words instantly called to mind the image of her pale form lying unconscious after the terrifying experience in Heatherbrook’s chamber. Rose had reached out merely to offer support, and Miss Pemberton…Miss Pemberton had dropped to the ground as though struck by a bullet. Gavin swallowed. He had no idea how serious her condition might be. Could he be asking her to risk her life to save his? Did it even matter?
“Yes,” he said aloud, unsure which question he was answering. Perhaps neither. Perhaps both.
Miss Pemberton nodded, rose, and crossed the room.
“Wait,” he called. She paused, her back to him. “You never said why you sought me out this morning.”
When she glanced at him over her shoulder, her gaze was shadowed and unreadable. “Ironic as it now seems, I came to apologize.”
He stood, began to go to her, stopped. “For what?”
“For my role in Lady Stanton’s contrivances. I came to tell you I was against it from the beginning, and that I never intended to compromise you to Susan against your will—or hers. I came to tell you I’d paid lip-service out of desperation, and that I was delighted to find I couldn’t follow through even if I wanted to, because I think secretly using visions for the sole purpose of spying on or deceiving others is the worst kind of cowardice, and wholly reprehensible. I see now that such an apology would’ve been a wasted effort, as you are cut from precisely the same manipulative cloth as my stepfather and Lady Stanton. Although I do not get visions from your touch, my lord, I would prefer in the future for you to keep your hands to yourself. Good day.”
This time when she turned to leave, Gavin made no move to stop her.
Chapter 25
Evangeline stormed back to the guest quarters in a high fury.
What was it about her that attracted arrogant, violent, self-centered men? Did she have the appearance of someone easily cowed? Angels above, even herhairwasn’t easily cowed, so why would the rest of her be? Her stepfather had spent the past twenty years trying to beat her into a pathetic submissive state and failed every time. She might have followed his dictates more often if he’d commanded with words rather than with his fist.
And Mr. Lioncroft! He was no better. He could’ve simplyaskedher to help him prove his innocence. She’d gone to his office to apologize, for heaven’s sake. She would’ve fallen all over herself in her eagerness to make amends. But, no. A man like that didn’t ask for what he wanted. He ordered. He demanded. He extorted. Much like Lady Stanton, a creature of worse evil than Evangeline had imagined. The harridan penned a note to her stepfather on the grounds of a single day’s ineffectiveness at getting Susan into a compromising position? Evangeline was clairvoyant, not a saint. Miracles were quite outside her ability.
Solving the mystery of Lord Heatherbrook’s murder might likewise be outside her ability. But she had to try. And she had to be fast. Her home in the Chiltern Hills wasn’t more than a single day’s drive from Braintree and Bocking. If her stepfather received Mr. Lioncroft’s response today, he could arrive by tomorrow evening. Why hadn’t she thought to ask when Mr. Lioncroft had sent his reply? Or how he’d sent it? Ah, yes. Because the thought of Neal Pemberton coming to fetch her from Blackberry Manor had struck fear into her very bones. Perhaps she shouldn’t bother confronting Lady Stanton. Perhaps she should pack her things—what things? She had nothing!—and leave this very moment.
But…on foot? With no food, no clothes, no money? As Mr. Lioncroft had pointed out, such an action would be borne as much of foolishness as desperation. And autumn was cruel. She had no wish to flee, only to die from the elements. Then again, she had no wish to live to be one hundred, trapped in some corner of a rural cottage.
Nothing for it. She would have to solve the murdertoday, accept Mr. Lioncroft’s guilt money, and be gone at first light.
Thus resolved, Evangeline found herself once again standing outside a closed door. This time, she had no gloves to remove. As far as she knew, those scraps of cloth still resided on Mr. Lioncroft’s desk. Nor did she make any attempt to tame her hair. The pins were lost forever, and besides, her looks had never been palatable in Lady Stanton’s eyes anyway. Why bother attempting to please the unpleasable?
With a twist of the handle, Evangeline thrust open the door and charged inside.
Lady Stanton shot up from a cushioned seat before a small vanity. Her lady’s maid started, hairbrush in hand, at Evangeline’s unexpected countenance in the mirror.
“How dare you enter without permission!” Lady Stanton’s words cut across the room like glass.
Evangeline strode forward. “How dare you pen a letter to my stepfather.”
“I don’t have to respond to such peevishness, Miss Pemberton. Barging in here like you own the place.” Both Lady Stanton’s tone and expression turned glacial. “Such behavior is the height of rudeness.”
“That’s why I did it,” Evangeline returned. “What excuse do you have for your actions?”
“I need not excuse myself to a ragamuffin like you, in any case. Just look at you. Dolled up in Susan’s castoffs and you still manage to look like the grubbiest urchin alive. Be gone from my room. I’ll summon you if and when I feel we have matters to discuss.” Lady Stanton sat back down on the cushioned seat before her vanity. “As you can see, my maid is attending to my hair. I suggest you find a servant to attempt something with yours.”
Evangeline’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care about my hair.”
“Well, you should. It’s a right mess.” Lady Stanton swiveled back to face the glass and motioned for her lady’s maid to continue.
“I want to know why you corresponded with my stepfather.”
