He glared up at the stars and stabbed the shears into the dirt. God helped those who helped themselves. If he wished himself to be worthy of the gifts he’d been given, then he needed to corral his wandering attention and focus. Mooncalfing over an angel in governess’s clothing would not get him any closer to his goals. Besides, if he wanted Violet to hold him in half the esteem in which he held her, he must first do something to deserve it.
Which meant what? More books? More medical society memberships? More semi-secret cabals with even better and brighter minds? He propped himself up on his elbows. All of that and more, he supposed. There was no excuse for slackening, no rest until his daughter could finally have the life she deserved.
“Master?”
“Roper.” Alistair hauled himself to his feet and brushed an errant leaf from his breeches. “How may I help you?”
His manservant’s expression was strangely solemn. “It is I who wish to help you, master. There must be something we can do.”
Gooseflesh raced beneath the lawn of Alistair’s shirt. Roper had always had a serious disposition, but the grave concern he currently wore filled Alistair with trepidation. “What is it? What happened?”
“It’s the townsfolk, master. They grow restless. I have had another report that the suspicion of your supposed vampirism is growing more and more widespread.”
“Oh, that.” Alistair relaxed. “It’s just schoolchildren and the idle gossip of a few country provincials. Let them think what they like. What do I care?”
“They’re talking about banding together,” Roper insisted, his scarred face sober and unsmiling. “Master... soon they will act.”
Alistair’s blood ran cold. “Act?”
“They plan to drive you from this place.”
“From my home?” He reeled in affront. “They cannot! This property has belonged to my family for centuries.”
“A panicked crowd cares little for legalities. I am told they gathered just last night, and have even appointed the smithy to head the pack should it come to violence.”
“Violence!” He shot an anxious glance toward the sanctuary. Lily must remain safe. “What can we do to stop them?”
Roper’s expression was bleak. “I fear there is nothing I can do that I have not already done. I am not the one they fear. The madmen have not seen your face in the past decade. Theyhaveseen pale-faced young maids flee the abbey with fresh bite marks upon their flesh.”
“Only once.” Alistair’s shoulders tensed. “It never happened again. I personally tended Lily every single moment since that night. Maids have now begun to attend her again, and she is comporting herself admirably. There will be no more wild tales from this home.”
Roper shook his head, looking every bit as distraught as Alistair felt. “Her existence remains secret, but the villagers’ memories are long. You employ a sizable staff in a boarded-over abbey and are never seen out-of-doors whilst the sun still shines. Even those without superstition, who have always believed your reclusiveness evidence of having contracted the sunsickness disease the midwife described, have heard of the many visits from far-off surgeons and fear an epidemic of contagion brewing in our midst. A confrontation will happen soon, master. The smithy wishes to storm the abbey. The others may join him... with weapons and torches.”
Alistair blanched. “Over my dead body.”
Roper’s eyes were bleak. “As may well be, if their threats materialize.”
“Never.” Alistair’s hands balled into fists and his voice hardened. “I shall be the first to act.”
His manservant’s brows rose. “How can one man defend himself against a pack of frightened townsfolk driven to violence?”
“By taking away their reason to fear,” Alistair said simply. “You are right. Far too much time has passed without showing my face in town. I will go this week. One afternoon, when the sun is at its highest.”
Could he? He had lived so long in the shadows, he was not certain he could face the sun. He didn’t deserve it. From the moment of Lily’s birth, he’d sworn to live as if they shared the disease. What his daughter could not have, he did not take for himself. He would enjoy sunlight when Lily finally was cured.
“Master... ” Roper’s expression was tense. “I understand where your heart is, but how can you continue the sunsickness ruse to the scientists once word spreads that you were seen in daylight?”
Heart racing, Alistair gazed at the familiar abbey as if it were the last time he would ever see it. This was his home. He must protect it at all costs. “Clearly I will not be able to. More importantly, I need not worry about scientists if my family is set upon by a frenzied crowd. That is the more present concern, and one I am able to quickly address.”
Roper nodded unhappily. “As you wish.”
Alistair frowned in the direction of the main road. He did not wish to do anything less than tramp into town under the full heat of the brilliant sun and spend an awkward afternoon answering suspicious questions with fictitious excuses in order to prove himself a human man of flesh and bone. His time was better spent concentrating on a cure. Why couldn’t the villagers leave him be?
His manservant still stood before him, not speaking, and yet not returning to the abbey. Roper’s gaze slid to the gravestones behind Alistair, then tracked sideways to the decapitated rosebuds and the discarded shears. Roper’s face lined with concern. “Tending flowers again?”
“Not very well,” Alistair replied wryly.
If Roper saw any humor therein, he showed no sign. “Were you... visiting with your wife?”
