They cantered into the stable courtyard. The cobbles were dark and slick with rain, and as the horse came to a stop, Sutcliffe ran out. “Oh, you’re safe! And Henry! I’m so glad!”
Charlotte handed Henry down to Sutcliffe.
“Please tell me you are not hurt.” Sutcliffe forged ahead, but when Charlotte didn’t answer, Sutcliffe frowned. “What is it?”
Anthony helped Charlotte dismount and she faced Sutcliffe. As soon as her feet were on the ground, she embraced her friend. She wanted to apologize for her harsh words. Shedidn’twant to tell her how awful the man she fancied truly was. And yet she did not have the opportunity, for Anthony dismounted right behind her.
“Any sign of Ames or the other watchmen?” Anthony asked.
Sutcliffe shook her head as she adjusted Henry in her arms. “No. But what of Mr.Timmons? And Mr.Broadstreet? And Rebecca?”
“There’s time for all that later,” he said. “Go upstairs and pack a few things. I’m headed to the village to track down the magistrate, and I’m taking you three to the inn in the village until all is sorted.”
“Where’s Mrs.Hargrave? And Tom?” asked Charlotte.
Sutcliffe blinked and gripped Charlotte’s hand. “They’re gone! They left soon after Mr.Welbourne, and without another word. Oh, please do tell me what is happening.”
Charlotte’s stomach clenched.
Suddenly this very house, which had seemed so isolated for so long, now seemed to be danger itself. She looked back to Anthony. “You’re right. We shouldn’t stay here.”
“Quickly, get your things. Put on dry clothes. I’ll tend the horse and then be right in.”
She was standing near him, and he gripped her hand with his.She squeezed back. Tighter. She did not want to let go. He was the last stronghold—the last place she could garner strength.
Anthony headed toward the stables, and Charlotte and Sutcliffe hurried into the empty kitchen. The familiar warmth rushed her and soothed her trembling limbs, but a new, much more sinister atmosphere had gripped the household. She wanted nothing more than to hold her son tightly to her and never let go, but there would be time for that when they were certain they were out of danger. Now she needed to stay focused.
“Henry’s freezing,” Charlotte ripped her cape from her shoulders, “and no doubt starving. Please get him out of those wet things and feed him. I am going to change and get him a dry gown. Alright?”
Gooseflesh prickled her skin, and the pins holding her hair had long since given way, and her hair hung wet about her shoulders. Her mind raced ahead to the next steps. The inn in the village, and then Anthony would probably return here to meet with the watchmen, if they were indeed to come. Henry would need fresh gowns, his blanket, and—
She stepped from the kitchen through the corridor but as she crossed the great hall, a singsong yet gritty, masculine tone stopped her in her tracks.
“You lied to me, Mrs.Prior. Didn’t you?”
She froze and turned her head in the direction of the familiar voice.
William Walstead exited through the parlor door and stopped just outside the threshold.
She should be happy to see him. Surely he was here to assist.But a frown creased his brow. His russet eyes were dark and hard. And the sinister grin on his clean-shaven face was probably the most frightening thing she had ever beheld.
She resisted the urge to inch backward.
No, he was not here to assist.
She held up her trembling chin, determined to hide the fear—and the confusion—welling within her. “I could say the same thing to you.”
He smirked and stepped forward, his polished boots snapping against the stone floor. “I asked whether you knew about the King’s Prize. You told me you didn’t know to what I was referring. Furthermore, when I asked whether you knew where the emeralds were, you looked me dead in the eye and lied. I find that exceedingly offensive.”
She could only stare as her mind attempted to make sense of his presence.
“Your husband owed me money,” he continued. “A great deal.”
Her voice felt airy and weak, despite her best effort to bolster it. “I’ve told you before that I know nothing of his business deals.”
Walstead chuckled. “Roland Prior was a devious man. A very devious man. But I suppose I should give credit where credit is due. He bested me. Tricked me. But now he is dead, and someone must pay his debts.”
She stammered, grasping at any delay tactic she could summon. “H-how had he bested you?”
