“I could have done something to help her. Instead, I did nothing.”
“What could you have done? You could not have stopped the marriage.”
“I don’t know, but I should have done something. Now, she is dead, and Craventhorp will never be held accountable for his actions.”
“Do you believe him capable of murder?”
Henry nodded. “I believe him guilty of hubris greater than Zeus’s, and one only needs to think how cruelly the king of gods took his revenge.”
*
Annabel’s throat closed.She tugged at the neck of her white blouse. Everything Henry had told her about Craventhorp confirmed her fears. He was evil; he liked to torture those weaker than himself, and he treated women with contempt. It all added up in her mind. Craventhorp murdered that young woman, which meant someone died because of her. An uncomfortable warmth spread throughout Annabel’s body, and the ground beneath her spun. She closed her eyes trying to stop the ground from moving.
“Anne?”
Henry’s voice sounded distant. He was calling her name, but where was he? Why was he so far away?
“Anne.”
This time she felt his arm encircle her waist, propping her up. She opened her eyes and blinked to clear the blur away. Henry’s anxious blue eyes examined her face. Her legs felt insecure beneath her, and she doubted her ability to stand if he let her go. But he didn’t let go, and, as if sensing her need, tightened his grip around her waist.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you. That wasn’t my intention. I let my anger at Craventhorp get the better of me.”
She nodded, too weary to speak or stand on her own two feet. Liking Henry’s strength, she let him hold her up. His arms made her feel safe. She no longer cared that they were outside in the garden and that anyone might see them; she never wanted him to let go. She’d kept the fear at bay and held onto the lies she needed to protect herself for so long. So very long. And now, she was weary. Annabel rested her head against Henry’s chest and breathed in his fresh, clean scent.
He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her heart raced as he leaned toward her and brushed his lips against hers.
A horse whinnied in the distance, and her eyelids flew open. Someone rode toward the house. Annabel stiffened and stepped away from Henry.
“Who is that?” Henry peered at the rider.
The horse trotted up the driveway, and Nate came into view.
“Afternoon.” He dismounted and doffed his cap at Henry.
“Afternoon,” Henry said curtly, indicating that he resented the interruption.
“I need a moment of your time,” Nate said to Annabel, his voice as curt as Henry’s.
“I’ll be inside if you need anything,” Henry said before turning toward the house.
Annabel watched until he was safely out of earshot before turning to Nate. “I thought we agreed to meet outside the college.”
“And I thought you were employed as a nanny by a Mrs. Bastin.”
“I am,” she said.
“So, what’s he doing here?” Nate loosened his hold on the reins, and his horse lowered his head and nibbled on the manicured lawn.
“He’s Mrs. Bastin’s cousin.” Annabel frowned at the horse, who stretched his neck in an attempt to chew on one of the manicured bushes. “Let’s walk to the stables. The groom will take care of your horse.”
“You sound like the lady of the house already.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Bastin have radical ideas. They don’t run their household the way most do.”
*
Nate snorted. “I’vebeen making some inquiries about your Mr. Hudsyn. It turns out he is Lord Hudsyn, the eighth Baron Hudsyn, to be precise.”
