Henry hesitated and slowly lowered her to a safe patch of wooden floorboard. An island amidst so many fine rugs. Expensive rugs. Thalia knew because she had been the one to purchase them.
“I shall have to fetch you some dry clothes,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was not quite sure how to proceed. “You… wait here. I will bring something back for you to wear.”
He kicked off his shoes and, before Thalia could urge him to just shout for a servant, he was gone from the room. She heard his footfalls on the main staircase and thought she heard the distant bang of a door opening and closing, while she stood shivering, wishing he had deposited her a little bit closer to the fire.
With nothing else to do, she tiptoed back to the door she had come through and sat down on the threshold as the rain continued to pour.
Pulling a face, she unfastened her muddy shoes and peeled them off her feet. Her stockings came next, the thin fabric torn in places.
Adding her cloak to the pile of filthy items, her gaze wandered to the driveway.Where on earth has Henry been?
She had assumed he was in his study, trying to avoid her. Evidently, she was wrong.
CHAPTER 26
“You are certain this came this morning?” Henry knew how strange he looked, standing there with an armful of his wife’s clothes.
If Baxter noticed, he did not mention it. “By express messenger, Your Grace.”
“And you are certain it is fromhim?”
Baxter nodded. “That is what the messenger said, Your Grace.” He paused, finally eyeing the clothes in Henry’s arms. “Would you like me to take those to Her Grace while you read the letter?”
“No… no, I will do it. Thank you, Baxter.” Henry began to move away, tossing back over his shoulder. “I shall need you to take a letter to London tomorrow, if you do not mind? A small matter that needs tending to.”
“The wretch who tried to harm Her Grace?” Baxter said. “I shall ensure it is done.”
Henry turned sharply. “How do you know about that?”
The butler raised a bemused eyebrow. “You told me before you left this morning, Your Grace. I had assumed you would want me to deal with him personally, but I would be only too happy to deliver a letter.” He dipped his head. “Anything for Her Grace.”
Evidently, the events with Alan Fry had meddled with Henry’s head, arousing suspicions in places where there were none. Of course, he had informed Baxter. It was the last thing he had done before departing the manor.
“Apologies, Baxter,” he said. “It has been a trying day.”
Baxter offered an appreciative smile. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Readjusting his grip on the bundle of clothes he had grabbed from Thalia’s armoire, Henry turned and hurried back down to where his wife awaited him.
He came to an abrupt halt just inside the secondary drawing room, his gaze settling on Thalia. She sat sideways to the garden door, her bare feet and ankles on full display below the muddied hem of her skirts.
As she turned to him, he quickly looked away.
“I brought whatever I could find,” he said, approaching.
She laughed quietly. “You could have asked Mrs. Fisher or Rowena. They would have done it for you.”
“I am your husband; I am quite capable of fetching things for you,” he insisted, his attention fixed upon the wainscoting. “Shall I leave you to change into these dry things?”
He heard her get to her feet. “You should probably stay. I may need assistance.”
“Right… yes, I see.” He swallowed thickly. “Tell me when you need me. I shall keep my eyes closed, for your privacy.”
True to his word, he closed his eyes and held out the armful of garments.
A short while later, he heard her draw the drapes, the shadow of it intensifying the darkness behind his closed eyes. Next came the damp, heavy sound of wet fabric falling to the floor, before her cold touch removed the clothing from his hands. He thought he heard her set them down, though he could not be certain.
“Here,” she said, as she took hold of his hands. “I just need you to unfasten this knot.”
