Conscious that the current line of her thoughts was neither productive nor pleasant in any way, Rebecca rose from her desk. She decided she would go up and help the others clear the breakfast room, now the house was quiet again, and hopefully Liam was nowhere to be seen. It was as good enough an excuse as any to escape herself, and find something to occupy her mind.
The others were already well on their way to having the room cleared, but when they saw her arrive they tempered their haste, and took more time between each ascent and descent, returning only to collect the piles she’d gathered, until eventually, Rebecca was left alone to wipe, and sweep, and polish, for which she was grateful.
The bell rang at the front door, and she heard Thomas’s footsteps travelling across the hall. She gave no real thought to their visitor, half suspecting it to be Mr Bradley.
That was until she heard Thomas’s clear and commanding voice through the half-open door of the breakfast room.
‘His Lordship the Viscount Rochesdale,’ Thomas announced.
Oh, God, no...
Rebecca felt her stomach drop, her mouth go dry and her blood run cold. Had anyone seen her then, they would have seen her blanch, eyes darkening with terror. Clutching the edge of the table to keep upright, she knew she had to move, to run, but she couldn’t. Her mind was numb; her feet wouldn’t respond.
There were voices now, Liam’s and her prince’s. Francis Mellors, Viscount Rochesdale. She heard them, vaguely over the blood rushing in her ears, rendering her near deaf.
So he’d found her, then.
So quickly.
Was this her punishment? Herreckoning?
You knew you shouldn’t have come here. Too close.
A shrill burst of laughter tore her from her thoughts and shook her into action. She moved as quietly as she could from the room and down the stairs. Only when she was safely ensconced in her office did she allow herself to stop. She leaned against the door and slid to the floor, her legs now failing to support her.
The initial shock had passed, and now the reality of her situation came crashing upon her. Her prince was here. Fifteen years of running, of successfully evading the demon who sought to claim her, and now, here he was. In the one place she’d been foolish enough to believe for a moment was safe.
She let out a hollow laugh that was quickly followed by a pitiful sob. But she would not cry. She would not break. There was no time; she had to run. As always, without warning, without goodbyes. She would pack her bag, and disappear today. This instant. Leave Thornhallow behind. Leave Liam behind.
Already she’d suffered, knowing it was coming, that it had to be thus, and yet now, with the hour upon her...
God give me strength.
Steadying herself with a deep breath, closing her heart to the pain which threatened to overwhelm her, Rebecca pulled herself from the floor. Then, as though the hounds of hell were on her heels, she grabbed her travelling bag, and threw as many of her belongings as she could into it. There would be no taking the portmanteau, but she would make do. She had to.
Leaving her keys on the desk, Rebecca listened at the door for a moment to ensure no one was about. Only Mrs Murray could be heard, shouting her usual orders across the servants’ quarters. Quietly, Rebecca slipped out of her office, down the corridor and out the tradesmen’s entrance. Daring not even to take a final look, she scurried along the house, and across the park into the woods, before she could convince herself there might be another way.
Once in the shadow of the trees she allowed herself to breathe again, and prayed that she would make it far enough before anyone noticed she was missing.
Liam had stood beneath the portico and watched his guests—friends—depart, then remained there, staring at the empty drive for a long while after that for good measure, not even feeling the cold, his thoughts too entangled to allow him to feel or see anything beyond them.
Not even the copious amounts of liquor he’d downed last night had helped him find any rest. His own words, the look on Rebecca’s face and the conversation with Spencer had whirled endlessly in his mind.
What a right mess of things he’d made. He’d come to untangle himself, to free himself, and instead... He had wrecked what little he had left, and now he felt more lost than ever before.
When he’d lost Hal, it had been simple. He’d had to run. To leave this place, his father, the person he was destined to become. When he’d left Columbia, it had been simple. Return, and cut ties forever.
Now... He didn’t want to be Earl, but he would be. He could run, but the prospect tasted bitter. Even though Spencer had shown him he wanted absolutely nothing more to do with society. With that world, those people... To spend the rest of his life living as society prescribed, speaking and caring about nothing of importance, gliding through his days with feigned insouciance... There lay only madness.
Yet if he stayed... What choices then lay before him?
You have to tell her. You have to...say something.
Yes, Liam thought bleakly, wandering back into the hall distractedly. Through all his meanderings of the mind, only one thing was inescapably clear. He had to speak to Rebecca. Well, first, he had to apologise.
Beg forgiveness, more like.
Beg her forgiveness for shaming her, though he could not will himself to regret his words. Damning though they might have been, he realised the truth in them. Rebecca was mistress of Thornhallow. Mistress of him, and his heart.
