“Miss De Lacey. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
Nate’s chest tightened. He didn’t know how he felt about Bridget, except that the thought of losing her made him physically ill. “I don’t owe you any explanations,” he said, turning to leave. He’d had enough of this conversation.
“I just want Henry to get to know you, and you to know him,” she said, and he stopped. “You’re right. You don’t owe me anything. But he deserves to get to know his father. If you want to be part of his life, I’ll not deny you. There need be nothing between us if that’s what you wish.”
Nate had no idea if she would ever be true to her word. Helen said and did whatever was needed to get what she wanted. But he’d also seen and loved the good in her, and this gesture warmed his heart to her. He turned to her and said, “Thank you.”
Then he walked off in the opposite direction, his mind reeling with all he’d just been told.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nate gravitated towardthe outer edges of Villa De Lacey’s grounds, where thick, burly trees surrounded the property. This was the area Bridget had ventured alone at night. But why? Was it because he’d refused to tell her about what had been going on at the lake? Had she wanted to see what the housemaids were doing at night?
It was all his fault. He’d dismissed her questions and interrupted her interview with Abigail and Sarah. And he’d done it all for selfish reasons. He’d kept the information from her because he hadn’t wanted her to know what a rotten rake he’d been in London and what rotten rakes his friends still were. Because of his cowardice, she’d ventured into the dark thicket by herself, and now she lay abed in a grave condition.
“Are ye searching for this, sir?”
Nate looked up to see Thomas coming toward him and holding up a lantern. “It’s the one Miss De Lacey dropped. I was on me way to bring it inside.”
“Thank you, Thomas. Would you show me where you found it? I’d like to see where she fell.”
“Aye,” the gardener said. “It’s just down here. Follow me.”
They walked several feet deeper into the thicket until Thomas stopped in front of an enormous tree with bulging roots that erupted from the ground.
“I found the lantern next to this one. She left behind some blood behind, poor lass.”
Nate kneeled down to see a dried blood smear on the gnarled bark. He turned and looked back at the path she’d walked from the house. “I wonder what she was running from,” he said, more to himself than Thomas.
“Running, sir?” Thomas said.
“Yes, the blood and the severity of her injury suggest that she fell with some force. She likely tripped over the first root, flew forward, and hit her head on this one.” He pointed to the blood-stained root.
“I can’t think who’d be chasing her.” Thomas frowned at the spot.
“Maybe something frightened her. An animal?”
“I dunna think so. All we have around here are squirrels, rabbits, birds, an’ maybe a snake or two. But Miss De Lacey has lived here all her life. She’s not easily spooked by the wildlife.”
Nate chewed the inside of his lip, pondering. What if it weren’t an animal that had scared Bridget? What if it were a person? And what if that person pushed her and meant to kill her—just as he or she had pushed Madam Bouffant down the stairs?
Nate scoured the surrounding area, looking for clues—something that would tell him whether or not another person had been present at the scene.
“Did you see any footprints when you found Miss De Lacey this morning?”
“Footprints? No, I weren’t looking for any footprints. But I suppose some of hers were in the mud”—he glanced down—“and some of mine and yours now too.”
Nate peered at the muddle of footprints and nodded. Then something caught his eye. A bit of gold sticking out of the earth. He stepped forward and bent to retrieve it. “A button!” he said, pulling the round bit of metal out of the ground and wiping the dirt from it with his gloved hand. It didn’t belong to Bridget. She’d been wearing all black as usual when she’d been found, and she’d worn no coat, which had contributed to her body half freezing. “Were you wearing a coat thismorning when you happened upon Miss De Lacey? Is this by chance your button?”
“I was wearing the same coat I am now,” he pointed to his brown overcoat. “And I don’t see no buttons missing from it. An’ that button’s too posh to be mine.”
Nate looked from the gardener’s plain brass buttons to the metal one in his hand, which sported an intricate floral design. True, the button may have been lying there for some time. Perhaps, it had been there for months, before Bridget started to wear black. Although, it did not look tarnished enough for that.
Nate slipped the button into his pocket. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for the button’s presence at the crime scene. Or, it could belong to someone who had cause to push or frighten Bridget. Either way, he intended to find out if any of the guests were missing a coat button.
*
Several days later,Bridget felt well enough to get out of bed, but she was met with fierce resistance from Aunt Marianne. “You’re not yet strong enough! The doctor said you should not overexert yourself.”
