Lorelei started, as that feeling in her stomach sickened. “That’s impossible. Brandon—h-he’s out of the country.” With a shake of her head, Lorelei reined in her panic. “Please, Miss Hollerfield. You must conserve your energy. We can sort out the matter later.” Miss Hollerfield’s urgent, fierce clutch terrified her.
“You must take care of Corinne. I-I beg you.” Her hand tightened on Lorelei’s and cut off her circulation. “You… you must… swear to… me.” Her broken, breathless words tore through Lorelei.
“Of course, but please—”
A breath expelled from Miss Hollerfield’s body, and her fingers loosened.
“Miss Hollerfield?”
Warm fingers closed over Lorelei’s shoulders and gently moved her aside. A ringing buzzed in her ears, spots edged her vision. A second later liquid fire burned down her throat, choking her. Her vision cleared only to blur with tears. “S-she’s gone, isn’t she?”
“I’m afraid so, darling,” Thorne said softly. “Come.” He guided her from the room into the library. Only a single candle burned. It was a library bare of books. How odd to notice such a thing. But then nothing would ever be normal again. She was sure of it.
He set her in a nearby chair, then crouched down to meet her gaze. He pressed a glass into her hand. “What did she say, Lorelei?”
“Eyes,” she whispered. “She said to look for the eyes.” Lorelei raised her gaze to his. “What did she mean, Thorne? She said—” Lorelei stopped, certain she couldn’t repeat the rest. She sucked in a deep breath, then forced herself to say, “She said Brandon did this, and to take care of Corinne.”
Thorne frowned. “Who is Corinne?”
“Her daughter.” Lorelei gripped the glass with both hands. “She barely survived childbirth.”
“Daughter? I don’t understand. I was under the impression Ro—Miss Hollerfield was with child.”
The statement startled Lorelei.Of course!She looked at her husband, registered his confusion. Her own shock made it difficult to put the pieces together. “Miss Hollerfield—RowenaHollerfield,” she said slowly, “was apparently covering for her daughter.” A bright light of hope stirred deep in her chest. “You were unaware of her daughter.”
“I knew of no daughter,” he said grimly.
“My lord?” Quince’s head appeared around the door.
“Go for the magistrate, Quince. Take a lantern. I pray that cart you were on is not your only means of transportation?”
“No, my lord. My horse is in the stable.”
“Best get to it, then.”
A long silence ensued after Quince’s departure. “I-I need to look in on Miss Hollerfield,” Lorelei said. Her fingers shook so badly, she feared she would spill the contents of the glass she held.
“There’s nothing you can do for her, Lorelei. I’ll handle—”
Lorelei tilted her head, confused, before she took his meaning. “T-the other Miss Hollerfield, Thorne. Her name is Corinne.”
Thorne took the glass from her hands and put it to her lips. “Drink,” he instructed gently. “We’ll talk in a bit.”
Lorelei nodded. She was beginning to dread the word “talk.” How did he manage to remain so calm… so strong, when all she could think of was Miss Hollerfield’s dead body, lying less than ten feet away in a nearby room? Her throat clogged, and she couldn’t swallow.Dear God.How was she supposed to tell the girl her mother was dead?
Edward landed deftly on his feet and put a hand to his pounding heart. The night had grown considerably cooler, but the adrenaline pulsing through his veins heated his skin from the inside out. Candlelight and low voices spilled from the window through which he’d just escaped.
Was it true? Could Rowena have absconded with his own flesh and blood? He was too shocked to feel anger. The raw fear in her expression had pricked his instincts like nothing before. If it was true, and Rowena was the girl’s mother andheher father, she’d borne a boy.A boy of his direct blood.
He could scarcely recall the details of Hannah’s death. He reached for his past, trying to recall the details. Had the babe passed? He couldn’t remember. Had he asked?Rowena held the crying child at her breast.Yes. Yes, the cry had been muffled.
After bearing him two dead sons, he’d had no interest when the last child was announced a female. A man required sons. The turmoil was instinctive, roiling through him like water rushing over a broken dam. He’d lashed out, catching Hannah on the cheek with his fist in one solid punch. Horror had struck the old nurse’s face, but what care had he? Hannah deserved what she’d been dealt. It wasn’t like his wife had felt a thing in her listless state. The woman had only sisters. Something he would take under careful consideration after Virginia’s assured demise. She had no brothers either. No siblings whatsoever.
He’d rubbed his throbbing knuckles and shook out his hand, then glanced up and caught the accusations from the exotic eyes of his young lover searing through him. Her screams grew hysterical. Nothing of the loving pupil he’d taken to his bed showed in her stiff, frightened form. “You killed her, you bastard.” Her screams echoed through the chamber. “You killed her.”
“Get your things and get out.” His control had been phenomenal.
She had slammed the door to the sitting room and flung the latch. He’d almost laughed when he heard some piece of furniture being dragged across the floor. His fourteen-year-old lover had a fierce temper. There was no time to deal with her. He doubted her pliability after what she had witnessed; she would be gone by morning.
