Lest you, dear Charity, meet your fate.
So flee, little bird, while you may.
Juliet’s blood ran cold at the words. Whoever this person was, they weren’t merely playing games. There was something far more dangerous at play here, something sinister. No wonder Mr. Russell had made such a bargain with her.
She shuffled the papers back into order. “Have you any idea who is responsible for the letters or why you are specifically being targeted?”
Miss Russell shook her head, a sad tilt to her brow. “I do not.”
Mr. Russell strode over to Juliet, collected the notes, then sat next to his sister. “Whoever it is, the fellow is clever, leaving no trace of his identity, no return address. To make matters worse, my sister is certain she’s spied someone outside watching her at various times. My groundskeeper Mr. Carver and I have found a scant amount of footprints. Whoever it is takes great care in hiding their trail. So, that is where you come in, Miss Finch. I suspect you know these grounds better than I do.”
Guilt tightened her stomach, and she pressed her fingers against her belly. Of course she knew the land—she had poached on it for long enough. But the thought of using those same skills to catch a human only made that cramp twist tighter. She eyed Mr. Russell. “What exactly do you expect from me?”
Mr. Russell rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together as if considering his next words carefully. His eyes narrowed a fraction. “I expect you to use whatever abilities you have to find this person before he harms my sister. You will watch, you will track, and you will let me know when you sense something amiss.”
On the surface, such a task didn’t sound too hard. She had the knowledge of how to skulk about at night and look for anything unusual, but this was no ordinary hunt. Who knew how dangerous this elusive fellow might be? Yet truly she had no choice.
But Miss Russell certainly did.
She speared the blue-eyed woman with a direct stare. “Forgive me, Miss Russell, but why do you not simply go away for a while until this whole thing blows over?”
The lady tossed back her shoulders, a fierce determination in the purse of her lips. “I will not run from my own home, Miss Finch,” she clipped.
Admiration blossomed warm in Juliet’s chest. She knew firsthand how hard it was to leave behind a childhood home. Had she not been forced to leave hers, she’d be just as adamant as this woman.
“Very well. I will find whoever it is that torments you so cruelly.” Juliet rose from her seat, her own resolve hardening as she spoke. At least her poaching talents could be put to use in service of a noble cause. “What time shall I return?”
To her surprise, Mr. Russell stood as well, his towering presence suddenly more imposing. His voice turned steely, everyword cutting through the air with unmistakable authority. “You misunderstand, Miss Finch. This is your home for the duration of our arrangement.”
Her stomach dropped. Stay here? She had thought she would return to her aunt’s cottage and come back when needed, though now that she truly considered, she realized this was an impractical plan, given her task. Still, the idea of living under the same roof as this man and his sister—surrounded by the very people she had stolen from—drove the air from her lungs. She gripped the back of the chair, fighting panic. “What, exactly, do you mean?”
Planting his feet wide, he folded his arms, a mountain not to be moved. “You will remain on the estate until the matter is settled. Should anything occur, I’ll need you here to answer for it. Besides, I intend to keep a close watch on you, both to ensure your safety and to make certain you fulfill your part of the bargain.”
Juliet went still, her heart thudding in her chest. He didn’t trust her. Logical, but it still stung. “So, I am to be your prisoner, then?”
“La, Miss Finch!” Despite the gravity of the conversation, Miss Russell laughed. “That is rather theatrical. Bedford Manor is hardly Newgate.”
But Juliet didn’t so much as glance at her. Though she dearly wished to, she could not pull her gaze away from the man in front of her.
“Surely you must realize,” he drawled, “what a privilege I am extending to you, Miss Finch. Until you prove your loyalty, I can hardly depend upon the word of a poacher.”
Of course. He had every reason to be wary. He was the master of the house. She, nothing but a thief. The very idea that he should trust her at all was laughable. Still, despite all reason,there was something about this man—something that made her yearn for more than just his cautious regard.
“I understand,” she murmured, though it wasn’t true. Not really. She didn’t comprehend the first thing about all the ways this man unsettled her.
But one thing she did understand—her aunt.
She drew in a shaky breath, her heart weighted by duty and a decision already made. “Be that as it may, I cannot simply stay. My aunt relies on me. She is not well, and the cottage does not run itself. I should not have even been gone this long.”
Mr. Russell’s expression didn’t change. Not at all—then all at once. He gave a sharp, single nod. “Take a few moments to collect yourself in your new quarters; then I shall drive you to your aunt’s myself. You can explain the situation to her and gather what you need.”
That stopped her. The offer wasn’t cruel, nor begrudging—but it was controlled, calculated, like everything else about him.
She dipped her chin, the lump in her throat too large to speak around.
At least now she’d have one more hour to think how to soften the blow when she told her aunt her worst fear had come true.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, weaving intricate patterns across the winding road leading from Bedford Manor to the outskirts of the estate. Henry sat in the driver’s seat of the open carriage, reins in hand, his thoughts snarled as he glanced at Miss Finch sitting silent beside him.
