“Old habits die hard. He can’t help it.” Gabby smiled. “I shall see you tomorrow.” She cast a quick look at Huntley. “I have a champion and that is worth everything,” she whispered back.
Sebastian ushered Rebecca out and down the portico steps to Sebastian’s low-step phaeton.
A horse trotting off in the distance sounded odd in the quietness of the street. But then, Sebastian and Rebecca were out late—
“What the hell?” Huntley’s low tone was barely audible, but it raised the hair on Gabby’s neck.
“What—”
“Shsh. There it is again.”
Gabby stilled and, turning her head, she heard the painful moan in the darkness. “James?”
“We need a lantern. Quickly.” He was already hurrying down the steps, as Gabby dashed inside, found a candle, lit it from the nearest sconce, and ran back for the door. Huntley was already there, bloodied young woman in his arms.
“Is she alive?” Gabby whispered.
“Yes.”
“Take her to the drawing room. I’ll fetch Mrs. Keir.”
“I’m right behind ye, milady. There’s a room ready we can use,” the housekeeper said.
Gabby hastened out of her husband’s way to shut the door to see Rebecca and Sebastian hurrying back up the steps.
“What happened?” Sebastian demanded.
“We aren’t certain,” Gabby said. “A girl has been hurt and left bleeding on the lawn. Huntley is taking her to a prepared room.” They re-entered the house. She closed the door and rushed after the entourage.
Huntley laid the girl on the bed and stepped back. “Do you recognize her?” he directed to Gabby.
“No. But she must have heard of Hope House. How else would she have ended up at this very house at this hour?” But premonition raised the fine hairs at her nape. She moved on down the hall to Mabel’s chamber and tapped lightly on the door.
“My lady?”
“Mabel, a young woman was just found on the lawn. I can’t help but wonder if… if it’s Miss Groves. You are the only one who knows what she looks like.”
Her face flooded with worry. “Where is she?”
“Follow me.” Gabby led Mabel down three doors. It was ajar and filled with low discussion. “Miss Clark is here, allow us to pass.”
Damp blood marked the side of the girl’s face at her temple and matted in stringy unkept hair. Her stark white skin appeared almost blue in its translucence. She was so young, Gabby’s heart hurt. She wore no gloves, and her dress was but rags, exposed by the thin cloak that was more practical for the stage than England’s haphazard weather. More telling was the protruding bump of her abdomen her dress failed to hide.
“Florence,” Mabel whispered, rushing forward, and dropping to her knees.
“Miss Clark, are you saying this is Miss Groves?” Huntley demanded softly.
“Y-yes, milord. She’s going to die, isn’t she?”
“Not on my watch.” Mrs. Keir bullied her way through the crowded chamber, tray in hand. “’Tain’t proper for the gentlemen t’be ’ere.”
Gabby was vaguely aware of Huntley and Sebastian stepping away.
“Ben… tick…” Florence Groves barely audible whisper sent a wave of chill through Gabby’s blood before the young woman’s head fell to one side.
Mrs. Kier passed her hand over Florence Groves’ too-young face and turned to Gabby and Rebecca, banked anger glittering from blue highland-skies eyes of fire. “She’s gone.”
~~~
