“A hedgehog? Creaking shutters?”
“Long story. The point is my father just pulled us into his arms and said, ‘I will always come when you call—but make certain it’s truly time.’” Henry exhaled slowly. “That ‘sorry’… it didn’t change the fact that I ruined a very important trip for my father, but it changed me. Taught me not to ask for help unless I was sure. Dead sure.”
Ahh. Now she understood. Henry Russell wasn’t cold—he was carrying a self-imposed weight.
Charity and her friends paused only for a moment at the farthest booth in the aisle, then rounded the corner, disappearing from sight.
Henry pulled her along, his long legs eating up the ground until they spied the ladies in the next lane over. He stopped at the end of the booths, allowing his sister space to shop in peace, and gave Juliet’s hand a little squeeze before pulling away. “So, what about your father? Is he still in gaol?”
She shook her head. “He died in prison three months after my mother passed, whether from the abysmal conditions or the cancerous guilt eating his soul, I do not know. I had already gone to live with my aunt, as she was my only means of shelter, pitiful as it is.” She turned away her face, unwilling to read his response. “So, there you have it. I am a poacher with a tarnished name. Are you so certain you still wish to keep me in your employ?”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “More certain than ever.”
She spun back to him. “How can you say that?”
“Your past—no matter how tragic—does not define who you are. In the short time I have known you, you have shown more strength and integrity than many in the highest of society evercould. If anything, your resilience makes me respect you all the more.”
What?
Her breath caught. For the first time since the whole tragic event, she might believe—just maybe—that her worth wasn’t entirely lost.
“Do you truly think so?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“I do.” He grinned, so irresistibly charming that her knees weakened. “And if you will trust me, I shall prove to you that you are more than the sum of your father’s mistakes.”
What a balm that would be. Why, she might even consider there could be hope in this bleak situation after all.
“Henry!” Charity flew towards them, barely stopping before crashing into her brother’s broad chest. “Someone is watching me. I know it.”
All his mirth fled. “Where?”
“Over there.” Charity tipped her head towards the stretch of field before a long line of woods.
Juliet squinted into the dark, where a man-sized shape stood immobile near a stack of hay. “You go one way. I will go the other. We shall flank him.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. Using all the skills she’d honed over the past year, she quickly crept towards the east, keeping to the deepest patches of night, drawing ever closer to the man who clearly kept watch on the festival. That wouldn’t last long, though. As quiet as she might be, he would surely detect the rustle of her hem in the long grass.
So, she’d just have to use that to her advantage.
“Pardon me, sir.” She waved a hand over her head as she advanced, hoping to hold his attention until Henry could come up from behind the fellow.
The man turned her way. So far, so good. She could already make out the silhouette of Henry stalking closer to him.
“Please, sir.” She waved again.
He kept staring.
Henry drew nearer.
“I seem to have lost my way,” she called all the louder.
The man stood rock still, clearly not the chivalrous sort.
Ten paces more now. Maybe nine, as Henry’s stride was so long.
“Could you help—”
Crack!
