He hesitated, knife in hand as his thoughts rolled back to the previous night, to how Juliet had looked wrapped in his coat. She’d been small yet fierce as ever in that oversize garment, clutching the lapels close at her neck. Her scent of rosemary and leaves, feminine and fragrant, had pleased him all the way to church and back this morn. There was something fundamentally intimate in knowing she’d taken his warmth as her own as she’d snugged the fabric tight against her body.
And that was a thought he ought not linger on.
With relish, he broke the seal on the envelope then pulled out two tickets stamped for Italy and waved them in the air. “But even if I have put a stop to Parker’s nefarious dealings, that does not mean you cannot still take a holiday. I have arranged for you and Miss Potter to travel next Friday and will send a message for Father tomorrow.”
“Miss Potter? Really, Henry. Even were I to consent to go—which I have not—I could hardly do so with Miss Potter’s hats taking up the bulk of our luggage allowance.” She folded herarms, a perfect little pout sketched on her lips. “Besides, as you’ve said yourself, you took care of things last night.”
“I believe I did, but it might take some time for Parker to cool down. It is still a good idea for you to leave.”
“I will not be shipped off like a troublesome child. Besides, the ball is next Saturday. Everyone expects me, and I will not miss it.”
He tucked the ship vouchers back into the envelope, a glower of his own tugging at his brow. “It is a silly social event. I will make your excuses, and no one will think anything of it.”
“Iwill think much of it!”
He slammed the envelope onto the salver, rattling the water carafe. “This is your welfare we are talking about. Do not be so vain.”
“Vanity has nothing to do with this. After weeks of living in fear, hiding away behind the walls of this house”—she flailed her arms, nostrils flaring—“I finally have the chance to emerge freely back into society. I need this, Henry. I need this more than an unwanted Italian holiday.”
He blew out a long breath, the desperation in her voice nearly unraveling his resolve. “Look, Charity, I understand your frustration. It has been a trial indeed. But please, at least consider the ramifications. Parker will be at that ball. There is no sense in enticing him back into his nefarious dealings.”
“Oh, Henry.” Rising to her toes, she pressed her palm to his cheek. “My sweet elder brother. You cannot protect me forever, you know.”
“True, but as long as you are my charge—and you are until Father returns—then I will make sure no harm befalls you.”
“I don’t see how it can when you are on watch.”
Ahh, victory. He grinned. “So, you will go to Italy?”
She pulled away her hand. “I did not say that. I—”
Crash!
Charity gasped. “What on earth?”
Henry charged into the corridor, boots striking hard against the flooring, his pulse hammering.
There lay Great-Grandmother Catherine’s portrait—the gilded frame split in two, the proud matriarch’s face marred by a jagged rip through her painted cheek.
Woodley stood nearby, white as chalk, his hands wringing like a guilty schoolboy’s.
“What the devil happened?” Henry barked.
Woodley flinched. “I—I never meant—”
“What’s this?” Mrs. Hamby stormed up to them, face pinched into horror at the damaged heirloom. “Oh no. That portrait’s been there since your grandfather’s time.”
“I …” Woodley’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times. “I don’t know, ma’am. I swear, it seemed off. I thought … I thought I’d fix it.”
Henry stared hard at the man. “Fix it?” he echoed, voice low. “Such a task is not your place. You know this. Or were you perhaps loitering to hear the conversation in the drawing room and stood a little too close to the portrait?”
“No! I was only—” Woodley broke off, swallowing hard.
The lie hung there—thin and weak.
Henry let the moment stretch until Woodley’s gaze dropped. “See that you do not overstep again. You have duties enough without turning your hand where it is not wanted. Next time I catch you sniffing around what’s not yours, you’ll be off these grounds before the dust settles.”
“Yes, sir.” He hung his head.
