“They came to Stokeford Manor out of courtesy to the earl. He’s made some important connections at the Yard over the years, and whoever is in charge there decided to give him fair warning of the accusations against his stepson. They wanted to give him the chance to convince you to turn yourself in for questioning.” Hobsworth shook his head. “When they arrived your mother nearly fainted.”
Henry paled. “They can’t arrest me, can they? I’m a peer.”
“I think they can, Henry.” Hobsworth said flatly. “But I’m sure they won’t after they speak with you. In either case, they can’t try you for a felony. That would take place in the House of Lords.”
“Oh, God!” Henry felt as though he might be sick.
Hobsworth scrambled to his feet and poured Henry a drink. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. You’ll go in, answer a few questions, and then it’ll all be over. You’re innocent. They’ll see as much.”
Henry accepted the whiskey from Hobsworth and drained his glass. “So why are you here then, instead of the earl?” he asked, putting his glass down.
“I begged him to let me come.”
“And he agreed?”
“Yes, but only because I promised to deliver you to the Yard by day’s end tomorrow.”
The nausea returned to Henry’s throat, but he pushed it back down. There was no sense in panicking. He’d go and answer their questions, and they’d see he was innocent. If not, it would be his word against Craventhorp’s in the House of Lords.
“I’m sorry, I was trying to help. I hope you don’t think I betrayed you.”
“No, I don’t” Henry placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Thank you, Hobs. You did the right thing.” He forced a smile. “I was planning a trip back to London anyway, and now I have company. We’ll get this mess cleared up, and then go out to celebrate.” Henry said with false cheer.
Hobsworth breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, all will be well again tomorrow.”
Henry rang for his valet and got up to pour himself another drink. How many glasses of whiskey would it take to quiet the feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach?
Chapter Twenty
What a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simplegentleman!
—Shakespeare,A Winter’s Tale
Five sleepless nightsafter Henry’s departure from Greyson Manor, Annabel made up her mind. She’d do as Nate advised and disappear—take a new name and become someone else entirely. Nate was right; she was too close to Henry. But he was wrong about the rest of it because she trusted Henry with all her heart. She believed him when he said he despised Craventhorp. He was a loyal person—that much was obvious to anyone who’d witnessed how much he cared for his cousin and her family.
But that’s also how she knew he’d despise her if he ever found out her true identity. He’d been lied to by his mother all his life, and she would not do the same.
The day ahead was bittersweet. She both wished for and dreaded its end, savoring her lessons while dreading having to tell the headmistress and the Bastins that she would not be returning.
“I’ve had a letter,” she explained when all three had convened in the headmistress’s office at her request. “It’s from my uncle—my mother’s brother. He’s been searching for me and only just discovered my whereabouts.”
The headmistress tilted her head, either in interest or in question. Annabel couldn’t tell. She cleared her throat.
“He wants me to go and stay with him—and his family—that is to say, he has a wife and five children.” As she spoke, Annabel almost started to believe the pleasant lie, forgetting her harsh reality.
“My goodness,” Mrs. Bastin said. “Then, I am certain your help will be appreciated. Though, we will be sorry to lose you. Alice has grown attached.”
A lump rose in Annabel’s throat, and tears threatened, but she stayed them and forced a smile. “I shall be heartbroken to leave her, but I…”
“Say no more,” the headmistress interjected. “No one can replace family.”
“Where does your uncle reside?” Mr. Bastin asked.
“York,” Annabel replied without hesitation. She’d thought about this question and knew she had to choose a place far enough from Canterbury that visiting would be difficult.
“That’s a wonderful city,” the headmistress said. “And do you know, I have a former student who opened her ladies’ college there last year? I shall write to her.”
A jolt of panic skittered through Annabel. Thinking quickly, she added, “Oh, I don’t know if my uncle will—”
