Chapter Fifteen
Millylay in the dark, listening for the moment Joseph fell asleep. They had spoken only a few brutally polite words over the meal they had shared in the room. Milly had then removed her cloak and boots, and washed her hands and face.
She had taken the blankets from the bed and one pillow, and dropped them on the floor, then climbed on the mattress and draped her cloak over her. Sleep would come, because she had learned over the last few years to take it when she could, especially when she had first run from London.
Sneaking into her father’s office the night she left, Milly had taken what coins she could find, and left her father a note. She had told him she had overheard his conversation with that man, and would not be responsible for the death of her beloved. She had vowed he would never find her, and she never wanted to look upon his face again.
Her anger had aided her in leaving the house, and helped her through booking a seat on the first stage leaving London. Frightened, with only her maid at her side—who had told her she would never leave her, but did exactly that when Milly could no longer pay her—she had believed that what she was doing was her only course of action. Ignorant to the ways of the world, she had then embarked on the terrifying journey that had turned her into the woman she had become today.
“I am sorry your father passed away, my lord. He was a wonderful man.” Milly had wanted to say the words when she’d found out about the late earl’s death, but could not. Here in the dark, the anger had eased, and she felt the need to speak them. To let him know that she too had cared.
Joseph had loved his father deeply; his passing would have been a terrible time.
“Thank you. He was the very best of men, and we still miss him.”
Milly closed her eyes on the words.
“When did he pass?”
“Three weeks after you left London.”
And he hated her more for that. Because she had not been there at his side when he’d needed her most.
“I-I’m sorry.”
He did not speak again, and eventually she felt her eyelids droop, as sleep pulled her under and away from her thoughts.
“Come, Milly, it is only a dream. Wake up now.”
Milly woke suddenly. Opening her eyes, she saw Joseph leaning over her.
“Joseph?” She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “What are you doing here?” She battled to wake fully, battled to wade through the nightmare she had been having and back to reality.
“I slept here.”
Dear Lord, she remembered then.
“I-I was dreaming.”
“Not a dream, a nightmare,” he rasped. “Your screams woke me as you tried to run from someone. Will you tell me who?”
“Him, the faceless one.”
She felt the bed dip as Joseph settled his hip on the edge.
“Faceless one?”
His hand held hers, and his thumb was making soothing circles on the top. It felt wonderful.
“The man my father owed money to sent men to find me. I escaped, and after that I was a great deal smarter.”
“I wish you had come to me, Milly.”
He was so close to her, all that wonderful strength just inches away.
“I could not do so. Would not put you or your family in danger.”
“I would have kept you safe.”
