Of the hope of their future together. Of the love and happiness that awaited them.
He awoke to William’s frantic voice.
A private courier—mud-splattered and breathing hard—had just arrived.
The man presented Fox with an even more private letter.
Not the dreaded letter that he had been anticipating, the one from Madeline’s father that would force Fox to give his niece over to the man’s care.
No. That danger had evaporated, it seemed.
But this particular letter revealed a new threat.
One that changed everything.
25
Fox left Laverloch at daybreak the next morning, Mr. Wheeler whipping the carriage horses down the glen toward Fettermill.
His first stop was Muirford House and Lord Hadley.
The earl needed to be apprised of the letter. Hadley was attentive, nodding as Fox summarized all that had happened and asked for a few favors.
Hadley, bless the man, immediately granted Fox’s requests.
Two hours later, Fox’s carriage stopped before the rust-colored stone of Thistle Muir, its large sash windows still hung with the black crepe of mourning.
He knocked.
Leah answered the door herself, an apron tied around her waist and flour dusting one cheek.
His heart nearly burst at the sight.
Damn, how he had missed her.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and tired, her hair slowly slipping from its simple knot. She looked exhausted, worn too thin, as if she hadn’t had a proper meal or decent night’s sleep in weeks. Which, truth be told, she likely hadn’t. His Leah’s heart was too big. She would wear herself out in the service of others.
When had anyone forced her to care for herself?
“Leah.” He tipped his hat to her.
“Fox,” she began and then her eyes slipped to the man and woman standing behind him. “Whatever is the matter—”
“Nothing is wrong,” he rushed to say. “Madeline is well and, as you foretold, Mrs. Gilmour and William have Laverloch well in hand. You labored diligently to ensure that we would be well taken care of. It is what you do. But . . . I decided it was about time someone did the same for you.”
“Pardon?”
He stepped aside and waved a hand toward the man and woman behind him. “May I present Mr. Garvis and Mrs. Burns?”
They both murmured greetings to Leah.
His wife bobbed them a polite curtsy.
“They are the under-steward and apprentice housekeeper from Muirford House,” Fox continued. “Hadley has loaned them to us for the foreseeable future, and they are here to help.”
Leah frowned at that. “Fox, I fear you’re not making sense. Ye cannae simply appear on my doorstep, offering people like they are books, easily lent out and returned.”
He smiled at that. At her acerbic vexation. At her assumption that his arrival was one more thing for her to manage.
