When the carriage did eventually come to a halt, he peered through the window, observing the moon in the distance over the parkland and the trees. The moon shone silver, with the light falling on the grass in dewy streaks.
“Lady Charity?” Seth whispered to her, uncertain whether he wished her to rouse or not. She gave no sign of hearing him.
As the moonlight fell on her face, he saw that there were indeed heavy shadows under her eyes. She must have slept so little as of late that his decision was made, and he abandoned any wish to wake her at all.
As Marcus opened the carriage door, Seth held a finger to his lips. Marcus nodded, showing he understood. Carefully, Seth raised Charity off his shoulder and shifted her into his arms, lifting her out of the carriage. Stepping down onto the driveway, he caught not just Marcus staring at him, but the driver too, holding onto a smile as he looked at Charity in Seth’s arms.
Her head was resting on his chest, her breaths long and deep.
She is at complete peace.
“Not a word for now,” Seth whispered to Marcus. “Not to anyone. It will be bad enough when the staff eventually learns of it.”
“Of course,” Marcus nodded formally. “I do hope you know what you are doing, Your Grace.”
“As do I, old chap,” Seth muttered, more to himself, not certain he knew his own mind at all.
He had been certain that when she’d asked him to assist her in her ‘escape’ the night before, it was the words of an intoxicated lady getting cold feet before her wedding night. A feeling that was simple enough to understand, really.
That was until he had heard her scream upon reaching the bottom of the spiral staircase. The bloodcurdling nature of that scream had left him in little doubt about what was truly happening.
He would never forget the sight of Baron Tynefield trying to force her down onto the bed, dragging her back by the ankle, and though she fought him valiantly, hoping to push him off, her lack of sight hindered her as did her smaller figure. Had Seth not been there… well, he shuddered to think of what might have happened that night.
I had to get her out of there. That is all I care to take from that for now.
He walked gently toward the house, carrying Charity, and stepped up through the open front door. In the entrance hall stood the butler.
A fidgeting and nervous man by nature, that habitual fidgeting was exacerbated when he noted the well-dressed lady in his master’s arm. His fingers interwove with one another, his lips trembled, and his eyes widened, so much so, that all Seth could see was white.
“What is it, Bates?” Seth exhaled, stepping beside him. “I have not even explained myself yet and you are like a hare staring down the barrel of a gun.”
“I… I…” The man stammered, looking down at Charity, then back up at his master. “Should I arrange a chamber for her?”
“Yes. We will set her up at the east wing.”
“V—very well. And… and, Your Grace…”
“For heaven’s sake, spit it out, man,” Seth huffed. He was already worried; he did not need Bates’ nervous temperament to worsen his own.
“Lord Baxter is awaiting you in the study.”
“Ah.” At once, Seth understood. Luke’s arrival always caused Bates some consternation, but an arrival so late in the night, especially after all the conspiring Seth and Luke had been doing across the last few weeks before his trip to Holmwood—it would have undoubtedly put the butler on edge. “I shall attend to him soon. First, let us deal with our guest, shall we?”
Seth led the way up the grand stairs. More than once did Bates whisper and ask who was in his arm. Seth’s answers were consistent as much as they were vague. ‘Lady Charity’. But he did not give her surname, nor did he reveal the fact she was the daughter of the Earl of Holmwood. That could make things even more complicated than they already were.
As Bates hurried off to order the housekeeper and maids to prepare towels, Seth carried Charity into a chamber in the east wing. Crossing to the wooden paneled wall, he laid her down on the four-poster mahogany bed before it. He leaned over her, to make sure she was fully comfortable before he released her. As he pulled back though, one of her hands clung to him.
Seth froze, his eyes on the point on his tailcoat where she clutched to him, her fingers curling around the lapel.
She was still fast asleep, possibly not aware she was even doing it. She pulled a little more and Seth bent down toward her, drawn slightly onto the bed.
“Stay,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.
Stay? Beside her?
He was kneeling on the bed beside her now, bent over her as she clutched to him, her head falling back on the pillow. It was tempting indeed to do as she asked, to stay here with her, to forget about the rest of the world. He could lose himself in the beauty of that face, linger here, talk to her, find out more about the life she was so desperate to leave behind.
Then her touch shifted. Her hand drew down his chest and a coil of excitement wound in his stomach. It was an intimate touch. He could have tipped his head back and moaned at that touch.
