She made an awkward curtsy. “You’re welcome, sir.”
Silas made to go and then paused. “Might I ask where exactly the stables are?”
“Oh, just behind the kitchens. If you round the building, you cannot miss them.”
“Thank you,” he said again before turning back.
He walked cautiously to the front door, relieved to encounter no one except another young lady carrying a mop and pail, her head down, who hurried past him without a word.
He slipped out the door, and stopped short, taken aback to find that his phaeton was not where he’d left it.
Damn this place.
Wasting no time, he headed for the stables.
With a gentle wind on his face, the green grass sawing gently in the breeze as the cows lowed from a distance, the compound seemed so peaceful. Yet Silas found that he was uneasy, even though he could not pinpoint why.
He rounded the corner of the abbey, and caught sight of a wooden building ensconced between two trees just opposite the back entrance to the abbey. He concluded that it must be the stables
His phaeton was parked outside next to it, though there was no sign of his horse.
There was an open kitchen next to the abbey. Several women were hunched over the table kneading dough.
Silas moved as quietly as he could and slipped past them, going straight to the stables.
A groom was in the first stall, rubbing down a horse as he spoke soothingly to it. Silas snuck past him, peering into the other stalls. Some contained horses, others didn’t.
A low whispering was coming from the stall to his right. He moved as soundlessly as possible to press his ear to the door of the stall.
“There, there,” a woman whispered, “You like it don’t you? You like the apple? If you carry me away from here, I’ll give you more, all right? You will, won’t you? Yes, that’s a good boy.”
Silas peered over the door of the stall only to see his horse,anda woman. Her face rang familiar. Feminine and tempting, yes, but it also reminded him of a man he’d once met. In fact, of the man his investigation centered on.
The late Earl of Downfield.
At last.
He smirked in triumph, pushing open the stall door to step inside.
The young lady let out a quiet gasp. Her eyes were the color of a stormy sea. A sea in whose waters any man would delight in drowning. The cap on her head hid most of her hair, but a few black wisps hung over her face.
Silas’s smirk widened.
“There you are. I have been looking for you.”
Chapter Three
“What do you want?” Helena asked hoarsely.
If this man was sent by her uncle, she was done for.
It wasn’t as if she could scream; she was not meant to be here in the first place. Even if she did scream, nobody would come to her aid. Not in this place.
The stranger put his hands up placatingly. “You have no need to be afraid of me, my lady. I won’t harm you.”
He moved into the light, and Helena found that he did not look so much like a looming shadow of threat.
Seeing him standing there, so tall and broad, had been a shock. She could not remember the last time she had seen a man such as him: broad shoulders squared, muscled torso straight, the very picture of command.
