“Thank you.”
Impulsively, she reached for him, taking his hand in hers. The jolt that went through her was instant and reminiscent of their first meeting, when she had been stranded with her horse Eloise and the most handsome man she had ever seen had galloped along the fencerow and to her rescue. It would seem he had done so again last night. And she hadn’t even asked him to.
Why would he do something like that for her?
It still defied logic and reason.
“You needn’t thank me,” he said. “It is what any gentleman would have done in my place, upon learning something so egregious.”
She didn’t think so, but she didn’t argue the point, for it mattered not. Whatdidmatter was that Everett had. She still didn’t know what it meant, but it felt like something. Something complicated and confusing. Why would he care so deeply about what had happened to her when he had made it plain he had no wish to be bothered with her, aside frombreedingher, as he had so coarsely phrased it?
She forced her mind to her mother’s impending arrival, recalling where they were and the reason for the gathering. “When will my mother reach us?”
“Within a few hours, I should think,” he answered, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“But the manner of this house party,” she protested at once. “My mother will be horrified.”
“We shall proceed to London after she reaches Wingfield Hall. We will change the horses, and she can enjoy a respite before we leave later this afternoon. We’ll arrive in London this evening.”
It would seem he had thought of everything. But then, if he had truly spent all night riding to Eastlake Hall, he would have had ample opportunity to sift through his thoughts and make a plan. She was still astounded this was what he had come to.
“You’re leaving the house party early on my account?”
“The party is coming to an end tomorrow,” he explained. “Unless you wish for your mother to remain here in the dubious company?”
“No,” Sybil hastened to reassure him. “Of course not.”
Realizing belatedly she was still holding his hand, she released it as if it had burned her. “I suppose I should make my preparations for leaving, then.”
“Yes, you ought to do so,” he said, giving her a curious look she couldn’t define. “And I shall do the same.”
She moved toward the door, beset by a barrage of confusing emotions she couldn’t bear to decipher just yet. Perhaps not ever. But remembering herself at the threshold, she stopped and turned back to him, gratitude making her hands tremble on the latch.
“Thank you for thinking of my mother, Everett.”
No one else had done so.
And she felt it now—the shame, rising, choking, threatening. Not just that she had kept her father’s awful secrets for so long, but that she had managed to escape and had failed to bring her mother with her. Instead, she had felt trapped as ever, even if she was beneath a new roof, out of reach of her father’s wrath. Doomed to an unhappy union from which there was no escape, save one.
“I do wish you had told me of your own volition, and before now,” he said. “I would have taken action far sooner.”
“I didn’t know what to think,” she confessed shakily. “My mother made me promise not to speak of it, for fear my father’s treatment of her would grow worse. Besides, you had ignored all my letters.”
He had the grace to look ashamed of his own conduct. “Either way, the both of you are freed of him now. I’ve seen to that.”
She cleared her throat of the emotion that had thickened it. “I’ll go and see that my belongings are packed and prepared for the journey to London.”
He nodded. “Excellent.”
Sybil stared at him for a moment more, allowing herself the luxury of drinking him in and forgetting about all the ugliness between them, before she moved through the door, leaving him in the sitting room.
CHAPTER 8
Sybil rushed to her mother’s side the instant she was settled in her invalid chair after having been helped down from the carriage. It had been several weeks since they had last seen each other, despite the short distance between Riverdale Abbey and Eastlake Hall. Her invitations for visits had been summarily dismissed by her father, and her calls to Eastlake Hall had been often refused on account of her mother’s health.
Sybil thought her mother looked paler than usual, and perhaps a bit thinner as well, as she bent to embrace her. “It is so wonderful to have you joining us here.”
“My darling child,” her mother greeted in response, arms going around her without the strength Sybil would have preferred. “It is wonderful to see you again. Riverdale was so very kind to fetch me. I’ve missed you so.”
