“As is someone else, Jane.”
“If Mr. MacKintosh has sought you out, he was most discreet about it,” Jane reassured her. “Mama is such a gossip, as you well know. She would have leapt upon an unfamiliar name with all the tenacity of a hound with a bone. I’ve never heard so much as a whisper about Mrs. Milbourne from her.”
There was that, at least. However, Connor’s pursuit wasn’t what she was referring to and she reminded her friend of that. “You forget there are reasons I’ve gone through all of this, Jane.”
They might all forget. Regrettably, Piper could not. Wrapping her reins around her gloved fist, she kicked her horse into a canter. “Let’s go, Dandy.”
As she said the name, Piper remembered Harry’s laughter when she’d dubbed the palomino with the whimsical appellation. Dandelion for his golden coat. A gift from her brother on her thirteenth birthday.
A brother she’d loved, adored. Mourned for. Now he was coming home to stay. Where did that leave her?
When she’d fled London, Piper had run to the single place where she’d known happiness. Dinton Grange. Longing for the comfort of home, praying she’d been wrong about Harry and that he would be there with open arms. In the beginning, she hadn’t hidden out in the gamekeeper’s cottage as she did now. No, she’d resided in the manor. In plain sight.
Given the enormity of the house, visitors often lost their way. Or someone could hide without detection for weeks at a time with no one the wiser. Hilde and Mrs. Davies had sheltered her from Mr. Larkin’s notice easily enough, prepared to reveal her presence to Harry should he arrive. Initially, they’d been the only ones who knew she was there. Little by little, the household staff learned of her presence…
And who she’d run from.
Servants shared gossip more quickly than a fox evading the hunt. Most were far more cognizant of Rutledge’s reputation than Piper had been. Sacrificing her to the proclivities of a monster such as Viscount Dormer hadn’t been an option for any of them. From the start, they all wanted to let her brother know where she was. Her harried state and fear of discovery had checked that inclination. When visits or queries from him failed to materialize, they’d come to believe, as she did, that Harry favored the marriage. With their assistance, she’d lived right under Celeste’s nose when her mother arrived to scour the area for her a month later. Loosely speaking. Her mother never condescended to visit the kitchens, or the service wing at all. Never deigned to address the staff directly beyond Mrs. Davies, for that matter. A fair percentage of the manor had been available to Piper even with her mother in residence.
It wasn’t until that summer when her mother retreated to lick her wounds after Rutledge publicly jilted her that Piper relocated to the cottage. Her mother would never conceive of her daughter living in what she would see as squalor. The move granted her more freedom. Although she still had to be careful, it suited her perfectly.
But for those wretched specters of fear and loneliness, she’dmade it work. And of late, had begun to think one of those two negatives of her existence might be overcome by a dashing Scotsman.
Not once over the years had she ever considered fleeing somewhere farther afield. Then again, she’d never imagined that Harry might stay at the Grange permanently. Even with more than a day to think on it, the implication of his return hadn’t truly sunk in.
Until now. In less than a month, everything would change. How had she not considered that?
She wouldn’t be able to continue on so brazenly when Harry and his wife were in residence. The new marchioness might frequent the kitchens or Mrs. Davies’s office. No more baking with Hilde or having toast and chocolate with Edith, Martha and the other maids. No long talks with Mrs. Davies. Even visiting the stables would become a risk for her as Harry had always been an avid horse lover.
Having already lost her home, Piper realized she was also about to lose her family.
There would be no place for her here any longer. What would she do? Where could she go?
“Piper, stop!”
Jane’s call broke through the thunder of hoof beats and the whistle of the wind. Dashing the back of her hand over her eyes, Piper did as her friend bade and eased back on the reins until Dandy came to a reluctant halt, prancing in a circle like the society peacocks Harry teased the horse should have been named for.
Gad, was she not even to have Dandy for herself any longer? The one luxury she hadn’t been able to deny herself all this time. Fiona had taken to riding him while she was here. If he were to go missing from the stables, her brother would surely notice.
“What am I to do, Jane?” she lamented when her friend caught up with her. Jane’s cheeks were pink from the wind, wisps of her normally elegantly coiffed blonde curls strayed across her forehead.
Was she to lose this as well? What would be left for her?
“Reveal yourself to your brother.” Jane reached over to clasp Piper’s hand. “He will be glad for it, I promise. As will you.”
“What if…?” The nauseating thought sent Piper’s heart off a beat and she swallowed hard. Her voice thickened with worry. “What if he tells Mother?”
“He won’t. I understand your reasons for not doing so back then. His lack of response was appalling, but time changes everyone. Trust him now.”
A series of solid whacks and shouts rang through the air. They both pivoted in their saddles to see a group of men nearby amid a series of felled trees. They chained off a grubbed stump and laced it through a series of pulleys. A team of eight Clydesdales stood at the ready to drag the stump out while a half dozen men with pick axes would chop away smaller, uncut roots as it was pried from the ground. She’d seen the process many times over the summer from a greater distance. She was much closer today.
Close enough to spot Connor at their center, calling out orders. A surge of something she couldn’t quite define caught her breath. Happiness? Joy? Odd reactions to a man she’d be wise to be cautious of.
Neither of those emotions typically spurred her heart to a sudden gallop. The drop in temperature didn’t seem to have affected Connor. Or perhaps the smoldering fires burning roots in other pits around them warmed him sufficiently enough to prompt him to shed his shirt. Even from a distance, she could see his broad shoulders glistening in the sun.
“Oh dear.” Jane averted her eyes as a proper young lady should, but Piper found herself lacking the will to do the same.
The chilly afternoon seemed to abruptly recall the heat of two days past in that moment. A hot flush crept up her bosom as if she’d been scorched by the sun, a muted whirring filled her ears like the song of the now dormant cicadas. Connor straightened and removed his hat to wipe his brow with the back of his arm. As if sensing their presence, he rotated in their direction.
