Malcolm stiffened and pulled his hand from hers. “It’s rather a long story.” He stood, helping her to her feet. “I’m so sorry. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had anyone to talk to, and I’ve kept you too late as it is. Doubtless your sister thinks I have you trussed up in a dungeon.”
Malcolm’s mood was somber as they made their way back through the house, the awkwardness between them lingering as she bid goodnight to his kindly butler. She cast a look toward Havenwood’s tower window as they crossed the courtyard. A lingering sense of sadness emanated from the house as the wind whistled through its eaves.
At the gate, Malcolm helped her into her saddle. They rode in silence back to Sherbourne House, where Lydia stood in the lantern light beneath the portico, her arms crossed. Malcolm went to greet her and they exchanged a few hushed words. Eliza strained to listen as she busied herself with picking brambles out of Star’s mane.
After a few moments, Lord Havenwood’s long shadow fell over her. “Your sister is quite protective of you.”
“Yes, Lydia takes her role as the much wiser younger sister seriously,” Eliza said, laughing. “Perhaps too seriously.”
“Right,” he said, smiling. “After I was scolded for keeping you out late, she graciously extended an invitation for me to call on youagain—so long as she can chaperone.” Malcolm’s eyes held her own as he took her hand. “I should very much like to see you again, Miss Sullivan, if you’d do me the honor. Please know I have nothing to offer, other than a paltry title and a crumbling mansion, but my intentions are earnest. You have a true and honest heart, I think. A rare thing in a world such as this.”
Eliza’s words tripped over her tongue. “I ... I should very much like that, Lord Havenwood. Yes. I believe I would.” A feverish glow rose to her cheeks as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
Casting a long look at her before turning, he mounted Apollo and cantered away. Eliza watched until the darkness of horse and rider became one with the darkness of the night sky.
CHAPTER 8
High summer in Hampshire was a thing of verdant beauty, and Sherbourne House gleamed like a golden coin within it. Eliza and Lydia had made the house their own, and every vinegar-polished windowpane and wooden chair rail shone with proof of their housekeeping. It had become an airy, restful place, with light and freshness spilling into every room. Clarence Fawcett, who had taken rather keenly to Lydia and had a habit of dropping in for dinner every evening after his rounds, enthused over their care of the mansion, even going so far as to say it rivaled the cleanliness of his own hospital ward. At this, Lydia had beamed with pride.
Even still, for Eliza, Sherbourne House was no match for Havenwood Manor and the man who lived within it. It had been over two weeks since her outing with Malcolm, and Eliza was worried. She’d received no further correspondence from him, and as July stretched onward, her anxiety grew. Each night, she cast a pensive look toward the manor, watching its lights flicker on as dusk lay over the day like a heavy cloud.
As for Lord Eastleigh, he’d sent a card and flowers—a mass of love-lies-bleeding accented with the hideous white lilies that reminded her of death. Eliza threw the garish bouquet into the rubbish heap. She was quite decided. Whether Malcolm continued to court her or not, anddespite the looming threat to her inheritance, Charles Lancashire did not wear the shoes of a future husband, earl or not. She only hoped he hadn’t been meddling in her affairs behind the scenes as he’d threatened, and that Malcolm’s absence wasn’t the result.
Eliza was filling her mop bucket at the outdoor pump when Nigel came up the path, wearing his cap low over his eyes. After greeting him, she said, “Nigel, I’ve been wondering about something. It seems as if my business is getting out, and it hasn’t been me sharing it. Would you have any idea as to how Lord Eastleigh might have known about my other callers?”
The boy took off his cap and twirled it in his hand, avoiding her gaze.
“Nigel?”
“I’m sorry, miss. I wouldn’t know anything about Lord Eastleigh.” He shuffled his feet in the gravel. “It’s only. Well. It’s just that Miss Moseley pays me to tell her the comings and goings on the lane. And me ma can’t work, so I do need the money.”
Ah. Ithadn’tbeen Polly, as Lydia had suspected. It had been Una Moseley. But why? Something wasn’t adding up.
She offered Nigel a careful smile. “It’s all right, Nigel. I’ll gladly pay you double what Miss Moseley does to keep my correspondence confidential.” His eyes widened, the skin behind his freckles blanching. “Now, what does she pay you, darling?”
“A thruppence, miss.”
Eliza laughed. Sold for a pittance!
“I’d say your kind of superior confidentiality is worth at least tenshillingsa month.”
“Really?”
Eliza winked. “Absolutely.” She pulled the coins from her apron pocket and placed them in the boy’s outstretched hand. “Now, should I hear you’ve been telling my secrets ...”
“I’ll do no such thing, miss! I swear it. You can trust me to be true.”
“I’ll hold you to it. Now, do you have anything for me?”
“Only a letter from Lord Havenwood.”
Eliza took the envelope from Nigel and excitedly broke Malcolm’s seal. Inside was a handwritten note, folded around a charcoal sketch. It showed her in profile, sitting on the heath, her features finely rendered. His talent was formidable.
Miss Sullivan,
I’ve become spellbound, I’m afraid. You did not tell me you were a witch. That would have been the kind thing to do, as you now have me in the worst state of distraction, and my fate seems perilously sealed. I’ve thought often of our most inappropriate outing ... and of you. I do hope you’ll enjoy my sketch. It may not do you justice, but I was inspired to set it upon paper all the same.
I’d like to invite you and your concerned sister for a constitutional by the Avon tomorrow. This will no doubt enforce the blight upon your good reputation, being seen with me in public, but it is my solemn duty to give the townspeople something to talk about.
