“Mrs. Grogan,” Adeline breathed.
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. “Child, you shouldn’t be here. You must leave, leave now, before he comes back. I thought you were safe in London. What are you doing walking into the lion’s den?”
“I had to,” Adeline said. “I came for the truth.”
Mrs. Grogan stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind herself. Her eyes darted as if the walls themselves might listen. “You’ve picked a poor time for truth. His lordship is past reason these days. The staff’s down to a skeleton crew, and even we sleep with one ear open. He’s been in a fury these last fewweeks. We expect him back by dusk.” She lowered her voice. “If he finds you here…”
“He won’t,” Adeline said, though she wasn’t sure. “Please. I need your help.”
The housekeeper’s face wavered between relief and dread. “Help with what?”
“Did you see what happened to my mother?”
The question sucked all the warmth from the room. Mrs. Grogan wet her lips. Her gaze slid to the hearth as though secrets lived there.
“Lady Adeline…” She twisted the corner of her apron. “Your father’s a gentleman. My word against his…it wouldn’t stand. Even if I wanted to tell it.”
“You did see something,” Adeline whispered.
Mrs. Grogan closed her eyes. A tear slid down her cheek.
“I saw him strike her,” she said, voice trembling. “He thought I’d gone down to the stillroom. But I’d left my keys on the landing, fool that I was, and came back for them. The door was open just a crack. He hit her once. Then again. She fell against the escritoire. I saw the blood. I saw him take the marble paperweight…the one with the blue veins…and…” Her voicebroke. “I couldn’t breathe. I ran before he saw me. When I came back, she was on the floor, and he was shouting for the doctor.”
Adeline covered her mouth to keep the sound inside her chest. A sob slipped through her fingers.
“I wanted to speak,” Mrs. Grogan said, wringing her apron. “God forgive me, I did. But who would have believed me? A servant against a lord? I’d have been thrown out without a reference, or worse. And you went away before I could get word to you. Later…he kept the staff tight, watched everything.”
Adeline stepped forward. “Mrs. Grogan, I don’t blame you. But I need your testimony now. Everything you saw. Winston, His Grace the Duke of Greystone, he’ll protect you. Come with me. All of you who remain. We’ll go to Greystone. You’ll be safe there.”
A sharp creak sounded in the corridor.
Mrs. Grogan went white. “Too late.”
Footsteps, fast and purposeful, echoed across the landing. Heavy boots. The rhythm she knew too well. The rhythm she had fled in terror five years ago. Her father. Adeline froze, her heart thundering.
His voice struck the air like a whip. “Who’s there? Is someone in those rooms?”
Mrs. Grogan grabbed Adeline’s arm. “Hide…behind the desk…go!”
Adeline shook her head. “No. If he finds you helping me…”
“It’s me he’ll strike first,” Mrs. Grogan whispered. “Not you.”
The footsteps stopped directly outside the door.
A pause. One long, chilling moment. Then the handle turned. The door flew inward, crashing against the wall. Lord Harston stood there, coat dripping, gloves clenched in one fist. Rain plastered his greying hair to his temples. His eyes, pale and sharp, fixed on Adeline with a fury she hadn’t seen since the night her mother died.
“So,” he said softly. Too softly. “The prodigal returns.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Winston did not like Harston Hall, even from afar. It carried something sour in its bones, a stillness that wasn’t peace so much as held breath. Approaching it now, with Pike and Oswald riding at his side and the sky low with bruised clouds, he felt the place’s dread more keenly than ever.
The gravel of the front drive had turned to sludge. The fountain stood cracked, the water inside a stagnant slick of leaves. No lamps burned. No smoke curled from the chimneys. The whole house seemed to crouch in the hollow of the trees like something waiting to strike.
Pike, for his part, seemed untroubled. He removed his gloves with clinical precision as he dismounted, surveying the house with the detached air of a man accustomed to entering dark rooms with darker motives behind them.
“We’ll take this carefully,” Pike said. “Your Grace is sure the girl came here?”
