“Jesus,” Brock whispered harshly in the silence. “Now what?”
Thorne stood there stunned. Never had the words “deathlike hush” been applied more appropriately. The words reverberated against his temples until a creak from the hall riveted him into action. He cocked his pistol and darted for the door.
“Irene?” Thorne lowered his gun and set it on the desk.
She ran straight for him and buried her head at his waist. He met Brock’s eyes. “Send for the Watch.” Thorne rested his hand on Irene’s head. “Who brought you here, Irene?”
“I-I don’t know. I woke and was in my bed,” she whispered. “What is that smell? Is my mother back?”
Brock pulled the door shut, and Thorne silently thanked him.
He pulled her into the empty hall and went down on one knee. “Not yet, I’m afraid.”
“But—”
Thorne cut her off. “Can you tell us what happened at your tea party this afternoon?”
“I poured tea for everyone. And then we drank it.” Her brows furrowed. “It was too sweet. But I’d never been allowed to pour before, so I drank it anyway so I could pour again. I guess I-I fell asleep.” Tears filled her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Of course not, my dear. But I believe someone may have put something in it to make you sleepy.” Thorne studied her pale features. “Can you not recall anything? Lady Kimpton is not at home. I thought she might have gone with you and Nathan.” A door opened, and Thorne caught sight of Bethie from the corner of his eye.
Irene blinked quickly. “Nathan is gone too?”
“I believe they might be together.”
Irene’s head moved, denying that scenario. “That can’t possibly be. Lady Kimpton is afraid of Nathan.”
Afraid? Lorelei? Of an infant? “You must be mistaken, my lady.”
Bethie moved forward. “’Tis true, yer lordship.”
Thorne came to his feet. “I see. And I suppose there is a reason.”
“Yessir.” She heaved a deep breath. He’d never seen her less militant. She seemed bleak. “I practiced midwifery back in Silverdale, ye see.”
He nodded, but didn’t see at all.
“I took care of Lorelei when she was a child. I was nursemaid to her and Harlowe. She followed me everywhere, she did.” Her hands twisted, and her eyes clouded with sadness. “I was called for an emergency birthin’ one night when her parents were in London durin’ Parliament.”
Unease tingled, raising the hair on his arms.
“She was supposed to be sleepin’. Lady Irene reminds me a bit of… Well, the baby struggled mightily, he did. I handed him off to the nearest body. That was Lorelei. I was tryin’ to save the mama. She had eight other children to raise.”
Thorne wanted to stop her. Irene’s small hand slipped into his.
“Bless her everlovin’ heart. The room went quiet-like. The mama just give out. I looked across the room, and the babe was on Lorelei’s shoulder. He was quiet too. Too quiet. The door crashed back, and the mister came aflyin’ in. In his grief he accused little Lorelei of killin’ his babe. And me of killin’ his wife.”
Thorne swallowed. “How old was she?”
She blinked, and her focus found him. “She was seven. She had horrific nightmares. I didn’t birth no more babes… not till Miss Hollerfield had need. I-I couldn’t turn away. Lady Kimpton wouldn’t have let me, no how.”
No. Lorelei would never have let that happen. Giving himself a mental shake, he looked at Irene. “You don’t remember anything? Nathan crying? Your papa? Anything?”
Her head moved side to side.
He dropped his head back. “Where the devil could someone hide a grown woman and a crying infant?” he directed to the ceiling.
“She might be in the cellar,” Irene suggested shyly.
