He shrugged. “I’ll not say no to the coin. I’ll take you as far as the crossroads. From there you’ll be walking.”
“I’ve walked further,” she said.
She climbed up before he could change his mind, tucking herself among the sacks. As the cart rolled away, she kept her head down and her heart steady. It was only when they turned out of the Greystone drive that she allowed herself one glance back. The house stood solid against the sky. No figures at the windows. No one came running out and shouting her name.
Except, at the corner of the stable block, there was a flash of movement. Lord Duskwood, with a coat thrown over his shoulders, had come out to the yard. He saw the cart. Saw her cloak. She saw the moment he understood she had luggage at her feet. He didn’t call out to her. His face set, hard and unhappy, and he stepped back under the archway. His silence struck her harder than any alarm could have done. She faced forward as the lane curved, hiding him from view.
By late afternoon, the air in the house had thickened with the weight of rain that hadn’t yet fallen. Winston left his desk and the neat columns of names and dates he’d begun. His knee complained about the hours in the chair. His ribs sent up a quiet protest about the storm. He ignored both and went in search of Adeline.
He meant to ask if she could bear to begin her own account that day. He also meant, less nobly, to see her face, to hear Louisa’s voice rise in that particular way it did when Adeline had improved on one of his old stories. The schoolroom was empty save for chalk dust and a wolf with six legs drawn by Louisa.The small sitting room by the rose garden held only Cordelia’s abandoned embroidery.
The library contained Oswald, asleep in a chair with his boot heels planted on the hearthstone, snoring like a man who’d earned it. Winston smiled despite himself and went on. He found Mrs. Dale in the passage outside the stillroom.
“Have you seen Lady Adeline?”
“Not this last hour, Your Grace,” she said. “She was in the rose room after luncheon. Little Lady Louisa said they’d do letters, but then the child came down alone and asked Cook for an apple, so I suppose the letters didn’t take.”
He frowned. “Send Louisa to me when you see her. And if you see Lady Adeline, tell her I’m looking for her.”
He searched the garden next. No sign. The orchard? Only rooks. The lane down to the home farm? Empty. By the time he returned to the house, something colder than irritation had started to creep in. He went back to the library and woke Oswald with a hand on his shoulder.
“Have you seen Adeline?”
Oswald blinked, wiped a hand over his face, and sat up. “Yes.”
“Have you spoken to her?” Winston pressed.
“Not since this morning.” Oswald tipped his head from side to side as if he were stretching the muscles in his neck, “I asked whether she meant you harm. Whether she’s in league with Harston. Whether she’s bait in a trap you’ve been too besotted to see.” He didn’t apologize for the last word.
Winston’s jaw tightened. “And?”
“She denied it,” Oswald said. “Convincingly enough that I almost believed her until I saw her leaving two hours ago with a valise and her plainest cloak, climbing into a cart at the end of your drive without a word to anyone.”
The world did not tilt. It narrowed.
“You saw her leaving,” Winston said, “and you didn’t stop her.”
“I’m not her gaoler,” Oswald said, some heat entering his voice at last. “If she’s as innocent as she claims, she’s running because she thinks it will protect you. If she’s not, then she’s gone to do whatever work she came here to do. Either way, dragging her back by the hood in the yard wouldn’t have helped.”
“You could have told me at once,” Winston said.
“And what should I have said?” Oswald shot back. “That the woman you’re half in love with has just fled your house like a thief? I came here to sleep and think. You found me first.”
Winston opened his mouth, shut it, and pressed his fingers hard into the bridge of his nose. Anger at Oswald sat badly beside the knowledge that he had been the one to lie still at his desk believing the house would hold. Before he could shape a reply, there was a knock at the library door. Firm, assured, the kind of knock used by men who thought houses existed for their convenience. A maid’s voice followed, thin with nerves.
“Your Grace, there’s a gentleman to see you. A Mr. Pike.”
Oswald’s eyes darkened. “Well,” he said under his breath. “The carrion birds travel in flocks.”
Winston scrubbed his hand over his jaw once and mastered himself. “Show him in,” he called.
Mr. Pike entered as if he’d been expected. Hat in hand, boots clean, coat without a crease. His smile hovered at the edge of propriety.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “Lord Duskwood. I must insist on a private word.”
“You’re already having a word,” Winston said. “Say it in front of my friend or say it nowhere.”
Pike’s smile thinned. “Very well. I come in my capacity as agent to Lord Harston. His lordship has laid charges before a magistrate in town. I am bound to inform you that his daughter,Lady Adeline Warren, is accused of theft and…” He paused delicately. “...of complicity in the death of her late mother.”
