The blasted, persistent pounding refused to cease. It wasnotmorning. Rebecca had just fallen asleep. She wasn’t normally one to lose sleep over disturbing thoughts, but Oliver’s fear and Owen’s nightmares and muteness had kept her awake long after Oliver’s childish snores filled the chamber. If she hadn’t feared the boys waking to look for her, she would have taken a walk. Moonlight walks soothed something deep within her soul and since her jaunt to London with Papa, she hadn’t had a moment. Right now, she just wanted sleep.
Ryleigh’s insufferable words regarding that night seven years earlier, jarring her pulse to an infuriating beat, along with those penetrating blue eyes that kept straying to her mouth had disconcerted her usual equilibrium. Doing something obscene to her insides. Was it any wonder she hadn’t got to sleep until dawn?
“Go away.” She snuggled deeper beneath the coverlet, unwilling to give up another moment of her precious slumber.
“Lady Rebecca.”
Groaning, she drew the covers over her head.
Serena knew her too well. “Lady Rebecca, breakfast has arrived… with a note.”
“What?” Rebecca growled. She was not a morning person.
“His grace sent a note with breakfast.”
There would be no peace until she dealt with the inevitable. She lowered the covers just enough to peer out of one eye and squinted against the blast of the morning sun.
Serena stood over her. “He wants to leave by eight this morning.”
“And what time is it?”
“Seven-thirty, my lady.”
Rebecca pulled the covers back up. “Send a response telling him eight is out of the question.” But she was awake now. “Why is it so quiet in here?” she mumbled. “Those boys can’t possibly still be sleeping?”
“No, my lady. They hurried through their porridge and—”
“Dear heavens. Don’t tell me they went outside? Alone?” Rebecca threw back the quilt and jumped from the bed. “Quick. Help me dress.That Cromwell character could be hovering about.”
Despite her hurry, it took another forty-five minutes before Rebecca was suitable for leaving her modest chamber. Neither of the boys had returned and her concern shot through the roof. Where the devil were they? Rebecca turned to Serena. “Let the duke know we’ll be ready to go soon.”
“You haven't eaten a thing, my lady.”
“And I don't have time now. I have to find those boys.” Rebecca hurried out of the room, flying down the stairs, slamming right into the brick wall of a hard chest. “Umph.”
“I was just coming after you,” Ryleigh said, righting her with his big hands. Heat singed the skin on her upper arms. He dropped his hold on her as if she possessed a contagion and quickly stepped back. “I thought I made it clear I wished to be on the road by eight this morning. It is now”—he flipped open his watch fob—“fifteen minutes past the hour.” He snapped the fob shut with a decided click.
“Er, well, yes. I just need to check on the—”
A commotion sounded from outside that raised the hair on the back of Rebecca's neck. “Blast it.” She dashed for the door. Nothing suspicious caught her eye, but raucous cheers came from the vicinity of the stables. She rushed over unmindful of the puddles. The sight that met her stopped her heart.
An older boy was restraining one of the twins by the shoulders. The other was crouched on the ground, his knee sunk in mud, protecting a cowering dog, if that's what one could call the scrawny, wirehaired, half-starved mongrel. For the life of her, she couldn’t tell which child was which. An older man broke through the gathering crowd and stalked toward the center of the yard toward her “son.” He had a thin strip of a branch in his hand. His arm lifted.
“Stop that. Stop that, right this minute,” Rebecca screamed. “Leave that child alone.” She dashed over and shoved the mountain of the man, both palms outstretched, catching him flat on the torso. The move caught him by surprise, throwing him off balance and landing him on his arse in the muck.
He climbed to his feet, his expression thunderous and started after her with slow methodical, thunderous steps. One after another. The ground literally shook beneath her feet.
Rebecca turned a furious gaze on him, her shoulders squared and raised herself to her full height. “How dare you pick on a child and a defenseless dog.”
“Defenseless dog?” he growled. “That defenseless dog killed me prized chicken.”
“Perhaps you should feed him then. Look at the poor thing. He’s starving.”
“This ain’t no place for a lady. Git out the way, or git pounded.” He started forward again, but she braced herself, holding her ground. He’d have to go through her, by the saints.
“What the devil's going on out here?”
Rebecca winced. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the duke, striding over, looking ready to kill someone, likely her.
