“I ran. I thought I’d escaped him. But he’s found me again. He’s sent letters, accusing me of theft, of fraud, of things I never did. He says he’ll bring charges if I don’t return to him.”
He pushed himself slightly up on the pillow, wincing. “Has he hurt you since?”
“No.” She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. “But he could. He’s clever enough to make lies sound true. If the authorities believed him, there’s little I could do. He has money. I don’t.”
“Does he know you’re here? Was the letter from him?”
No, it was from Robert Grebe telling me that my time is running out.
“No, as I said, that was from an…”
“Acquaintance, yes, I remember. And this man knows you are a resident here. His letter was hand-delivered.”
“Yes.”
“So, your old friend is male,” Winston said softly.
Adeline had been wiping her eyes. Her head whipped up and she found his blue eyes shrouded by approaching storms.
“I did not say that. Does it matter?”
“No. I know I should not comment,” Winston said slowly. “Only…”
Adeline waited.
He set a trap for me! He does not believe me.
Her heart crumbled. Pieces broke away and melted. Louisa. Winston. The life of Miss Adeline Wilkinson, Lady-In-Waiting. The streets of London would be her only refuge once she was cast out. Robert Grebe would find her. Lord Harston, her father, would seize her, too.
“I thought perhaps it was from…”
The knock at the door was soft, the kind to alert someone sitting vigil without waking the patient. Soft or not, Winston’s mouth snapped shut. Cordelia’s head appeared around the door.
“Winston, you’re awake!” she exclaimed in a whisper.
She came in, blithely unaware of causing an interruption. Adeline found herself wishing for a few more seconds. Enough for Winston to finish his sentence.
From whom? Who does he fear is writing to me?
“Yes, I am well, Mother. How is Louisa?”
“Exhausted. I persuaded her to try to sleep, but she was certain it was not for her. But sleep had other ideas. Once she was assured that you were in no danger, she could not withstand it. I am on the cusp of surrendering myself. You do not know the fright it caused when that carriage raced up with the two of you inside. How you got so far away from the theater is beyond me!”
The babble was impossible to resist or interrupt. She continued until breath gave out. Adeline knew her well enough to know the genuine panic that had gripped the old woman’s heart. She rose and ushered Cordelia to the seat she had just vacated. Cordelia sat, flapping her handkerchief as though it were a fan.
“The crowds carried us away,” Winston said.
“And I seem to have developed a terror of such confined environments,” Adeline added.
“And then there is your fiancé. I know, I know, little storm-bird. You were quite concerned about bumping into him,” Cordelia replied.
“Yes. I want to assure you, Miss Wilkinson,” Winston said, formally, “he will not be able to touch you. Not while you are under my roof.”
“Or mine,” Cordelia announced, reaching for Adeline’s hand and clasping it. “Well said, Winston.”
Her eyes filled before she could stop them. “You don’t understand what he’s capable of.”
“I understand men who think the world owes them obedience,” he said quietly. “I grew up among them. I won’t let one near you.”
