“Servants always know these things.”
“And if the servants know, the village will, too.” She swung her gaze back to Oliver. “But I won’t force Isabella to marry him, Oliver. I won’t.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to, even if you wanted to.” He plucked the letter from her hands and put it aside. Then he took her hand with his. “Right now, we must focus on retrieving Isabella. Do you want to join me in visiting Bidlington Hall?”
Her eyes were wet as she stared at him. “Join you?”
“Well, it is my carriage. Unless you intend to walk in the rain?” At her astonished blink, he clucked his tongue. “Did you think I would leave you here and now? Someone has to punch Marlbury in the face, and I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t let it be you—though I admit that you have prior claim.”
“Oliver . . .” She reached for the banister, holding herself upright. “What if she isn’t there?”
“Then I will help you find her.”
“Isabella is not—you do not need to do that,” she said weakly.
“Need is such a strange word. If my conscience prompts me to, does that make it a need?” What was a need, entirely aside fromhis conscience, was to ease the worry from her face. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I will. Besides”—at the thought of her confronting Marlbury alone, something dark and furious rose in his chest—“I would much rather you were not left to go alone.” At her slight frown, he suppressed the dark anger. “Do you have blankets? The night is cold.”
She opened her mouth, as though she had prepared to say something else—to argue again, probably—but his question disarmed her, and she merely nodded. “Upstairs. Wait here.”
He did as he was told, glancing around the ruined house. Once, it must have been fine; there was no ballroom, but he had passed a spacious drawing room and a grand dining room. Certainly a gentleman’s abode.
It might still be saved; he hoped, for Emily’s sake, it would be, but he didn’t know how she would contrive to save it. As it stood, she barely had the funds to live in it and not starve.
The problem felt like his to solve, but she’d spurned his—impulsive, stupid—offer of help. Finding Isabella, forcing his former friend to face justice, was the only thing left hecoulddo.
“Here,” she said, hurrying back towards him and thrusting musty-smelling blankets in his good arm. Immediately, he proceeded to shake one out, draping it over her shoulders.
“Oliver,” she started.
“I won’t have you catching a chill all for the sake of your foolish sister.” At the thought of the note, his gut burned with anger again. “She did this out of spite, you know.”
“But how did she know I’d gone with you?” Emily asked weakly. “I never showed her the note. She was asleep when I left. When I disappeared, why did she assume I intended to steal you from her?”
“There are two options,” Oliver said. “Either she saw you and me together when you thought she was asleep, or you disappeared and she went to Bidlington Hall and asked for me—only to find I was also gone. Marlbury will have seen to the rest, or perhaps he merely took advantage of her natural suspicions. She’s mistaken about one thing, though.” His voice was colder than he had intended, matching the spray of rainwater as he unbolted the door. “I was never hers to steal.”
Wind rocked the carriage as it made its laborious way to the house on the hill. Bidlington Hall. Emily had only ever been there a few times before, sneaking to the servants’ entrance where Lord Marlbury had been waiting for her.
“Are you all right?” Oliver leant forward, his good elbow braced against his knee. She could see so little of him, save for shapes, but somehow she knew him so well that she already knew what those shapes made up. Without seeing, she knew his eyes would hold concern and his oft-playful mouth would be tight with worry.
“Yes,” she said.
He huffed a breath that told her he knew she was lying. But all he said was, “We’re nearly there. I should go in first and enquire after him.”
“No.” Emily shook her head, feeling as though her breath was too tight. “I need to be the one to do this.”
“Emily.” He hesitated. “If the servants come to know you’ve been travelling with me—”
“There’s no point in trying to preserve my reputation.” She tightened her fingers around her cloak until her knuckles ached. “I respect and admire you for the attempt, but I have no interest in my reputation when my sister’s is at stake. Do you really presume no one will know where I’ve been? Or that I’m with anunmarried man? Rumours fly, especially if Isabella was so bitter as to run away with the man I warned her against.”
“You warned her against him?”
“Yes. And now she thinks she has won some great victory over me becauseshewill be the one to marry him.” Emily sighed, peering out of the dark window. “I suppose she thinks she is a better marriage prospect than I.”
“She would be wrong,” Oliver said shortly.
“You didn’t think so initially. And sheisprettier than me. Even you can’t deny it.”
“To a stranger, perhaps,” he said, “but not to me.”
