Elowen’s brow furrowed. “I remember. I did find his actions rather odd, if not pitiful. And His Grace was watching him then, carefully. Could that have anything to do with why he is here now?”
Before anyone could answer, a servant returned. “Lord Trenton will join you immediately, my lady.”
Papa entered minutes later, composed yet pale, the fatigue of recent days softening the sharpness of his features. He straightened at the sight of Ambrose’s frantic movements. “Lord Redley?” he said cautiously. “What is the meaning of this disturbance?”
Redley stopped abruptly and faced him. “Lord Trenton,” he barked, eyes wide. “I have said too little for too long. They are watching. They are—”
He broke off, muttering incoherently. His hands worked feverishly at his watch chain, his whole body twitching as if he expected an unseen assailant.
“My lord,” Papa said gently, taking a step forward, “please. Compose yourself. Whatever troubles you, we shall manage it calmly.”
Ambrose’s laughter rang sharp and hollow, a sound that chilled the room. “Calmly?” he repeated. “You do not understand. The debts, the manifests—the consequences! They are too—too dire!”
“Whodrivesthese consequences, then?” William asked, his tone firm but measured. “Who is behind this?”
Ambrose’s gaze snapped toward him, unfocused but searching. “Followed. Watched. Everything I touch—they see. Do you know what that means?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tremulous whisper. “Do you?”
Elowen instinctively shrank back, though curiosity held her fast. “Lord Redley, please,” she said softly. “We are listening. Perhaps if you explain slowly…”
Ambrose clutched at his hair in frustration. “Slowly! Do you think I can? Every second is a risk!” He whirled back to Papa. “My lord, you must—”
The baron held up a hand, his patience steady. “Lord Redley, focus. Start at the beginning. What debts? What manifests?”
Ambrose’s eyes flickered wildly toward the windows, as if he imagined watchers beyond them. “I cannot! They are everywhere—too many eyes, always upon me. You… you do not see. The consequences are too great, and—Confound it, why did I come here?”
“Ambrose,” Mama said softly, her voice calm and even, “you are safe here. Speak clearly, and we will understand.”
He exhaled a ragged breath, leaning against the chair for support. “I have said too much already,” he muttered. “Perhaps nothing will save it now.”
Elowen exchanged a glance with William. “He is frantic, but there is something more beneath it,” she whispered.
William nodded gravely. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Ambrose suddenly straightened and strode toward the door. “I must go. I cannot remain—it is too dangerous.”
“My lord!” Papa called, his voice firm. “You would leave without explanation?”
Ambrose paused, glancing back with wide, almost pleading eyes. “There are warnings,” he said. “Fragments of what you must know. But it cannot be gathered here—and I should not have been the first to speak it. Forgive me. But beware.”
And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him. Silence followed, heavy and uneasy.
Elowen released the breath she had been holding. “I—” she began, but Margaret Tremaine lifted a hand gently.
“Composure, Elowen,” her mother said softly. “Do not let his actions disturb you. He is… unwell.”
Papa ran a hand down his face, the weariness in his eyes more evident now. “Unwell, yes—but perhaps not entirely without purpose.”
William stepped forward. “Then we should see him safely to his carriage. It may spare him a greater scene—and give him time to recover enough to speak coherently later.”
Mama inclined her head. “Yes. Send a servant at once to ensure his carriage is ready.”
Elowen’s gaze lingered on the closed door. “It is unsettling,” she admitted quietly. “He seemed frantic—as though he feared he had run out of time.”
“Indeed,” Papa agreed softly. He, too, stared at the door, but Elowen couldn’t help but think he was seeing more than she was. Even Mama and William held a grim look that made her wonder if they’d pieced together the reason behind Ambrose’s visit.
From the window, Elowen saw a footman and William guiding Lord Redley toward the waiting carriage. The poor man was still dishevelled, though somewhat steadier now beneath William’s careful direction. Elowen and her parents watched from afar as he was helped inside.
“He looked almost pitiable,” Elowen murmured, her pulse still unsteady.
