“Please, Felicity,” he said. “We have no idea where Reed is. If you go outside, you could walk right into his hands. You are no longer safe. No matter how you feel about me, please don’t leave the house.”
“You truly think it is possible of Mister Francis?” Higgins asked.
Flint sighed. “I simply don’t know anymore, Higgins. But I cannot take the chance. You know that.”
A step above Higgins, Felicity seemed to shrink a bit. She didn’t bother to turn around.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll stay.” Then she turned to pat Higgins’s hand. “Now go downstairs and rip up that resignation. I couldn’t bear you leaving on my account.”
Flint saw his butler turn to her and was astonished to see tears in the old man’s eyes. “We’ll find him, Miss,” he said. “Don’t you worry. Billy Burke will never let you be hurt.”
She actually stretched up on her toes and kissed the butler’s cheek. “I know,” she said.
“Billy Burke?” Flint echoed, having had just about enough. “Don’t be absurd.Iwon’t let you be hurt. It’s why I’m asking you to stay.”
She nodded without facing him. “Thank you.” Her voice was as flat as Sussex.
He wanted to hit something. Why had she been listening? He could have prevented this.
“Felicity, I need to talk to you.”
“Maybe later,” she said in a way that sounded like ‘not ever.’
And damn it all if he didn’t just stand there like a rock as she climbed the rest of the way up and disappeared into the shadows. He should run after her. He should drag her into his room so she had to listen to him even if she did, as she threatened to do, knee him in the cods.
He should give her a little time before approaching her. Let her calm down. Be sensible. It would give him a chance to stanch his own bleeding. His chest ached harder than if he’d been stabbed.
“You’re not leaving, I take it, Higgins,” he said instead.
The butler had turned back down the stairs and was headed for the green baize door at the back of the great hall. “She needs protecting, now, doesn’t she, m’lord?”
Flint would deal with him later as well. For now, he needed to get back in and settle some things with his father.
* * *
He was waitinginside her sitting room when she opened the door.
“Oh, for the love of Heaven,” Felicity found herself snapping.
“Shut the door.” He was pointing a gun at her.
A middle-aged man in his best Weston who looked as disheveled as Bucky. A little plump, squinting as if he were near-sighted, not too steady a gun-hand.
Well, Felicity had just about had enough.
“Mr. Reed, I presume,” she said, stepping farther into the room without closing the door behind her. “Unless you’re Mr. Harvester.”
She might as well have kicked him by his expression. “John is dead. I said shut the door.”
“And turn away from that gun? I don’t think so. Should I assume Bucky told you how to find me?”
Please don’t tell me one of the staff told you, she thought, knowing she would not be able to tolerate one more betrayal.
“No. I’ve known for a while now. Dent is safe. He’s gone.”
“You should be, too. You have nothing left here to fight for. The duke already has your name.”
He seemed to deflate. “I must have that list. You know where it is.”
