Elise stared.
He looked nothing like the composed, quiet gentleman she had met over tea. This man bore the unmistakable marks of a battle fought through the night—sooty hands, wet boots, a cut at his brow, and a steadiness of posture that betrayed how long he had remained on his feet.
He bowed when he saw her, though his eyes held fatigue.
“Mrs. Larkin. Miss Archer.”
Elise swallowed. “We feared the worst.”
“Understandable,” he said. “The tree came down before midnight. The roof above the kitchen is unsafe. I moved the Admiral to this room and kept the fire going. Mrs. Grealey is resting in the pantry—she insisted she was quite well, but she fainted at one point.”
Elise’s throat tightened. “You have been up all night?”
He did not answer with pride, only with simple truth. “There was no one else.”
The Admiral perked up. “He saved my life, my dear. Hauled me out from under flying tiles like Neptune himself.”
Mr. Leigh’s ears coloured slightly. “Sir exaggerates.”
“I think not,” Elise said softly.
Her gaze drifted upward to the fractured ceiling. The tree had punched through tiles and beams above the kitchen; daylight filtered through a jagged, splintered wound in the roof.
“This house is no longer safe,” Elise murmured.
“No,” Leigh agreed. “The next strong wind may bring the rest of the roof down.”
Jane touched Elise’s sleeve. “You cannot remain here.”
“No, of course not.” Elise steadied herself. “Admiral, you and Mrs. Grealey must come to Belair House. The girls will be delighted to have guests.”
“Guests?” The Admiral brightened. “Ah! A change of quarters.”
He attempted to stand but wavered. Leigh moved instantly to support him, one hand at the Admiral’s elbow, the other steadying his back.
Elise’s heart pinched at the sight. A man who could move so lightly to help another… a man who stayed awake through a storm to guard those in his care… these things conflicted acutely with her fears of the night before.
Outside, another branch cracked and fell, startling all of them.
Elise lifted her chin. “There is no time to lose. Jane, will you gather together the Admiral’s things? Mr. Leigh—are you able to assist the Admiral while I fetch Mrs. Grealey?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
As she turned towards the door, she heard the Admiral speak fondly:
“My dear, if you ask me, Providence has sent us a very capable guardian.”
Elise hoped that was all he was, but as she saw the storm-torn ruin of the cottage, she knew one thing with certainty: Whatever Mr. Leigh was, the storm had forced him directlyinto her world, and she did not yet know whether to thank the heavens… or fear them.
CHAPTER 7
All night long, the gale had flung itself at the Admiral’s cottage as though intent on peeling it from the cliff and dashing it into the Sound below. Edmund had slept scarcely an hour. He had not dared once the storm began.
The first sharp crack—so like the report of a musket—that made the old man start awake in his chair had been followed by a deeper, more ominous sound: the long, splintering groan of roots torn from earth, of a trunk giving way.
“Down!” Edmund had barked, without ceremony hauling the Admiral bodily from his seat.
The crash that followed shook the cottage to its bones. Tiles shattered; dust rained from the ceiling. Somewhere in the back rooms, crockery smashed. Mrs. Grealey screamed.
