With a deep inhale, she collected herself. She stepped back, out of his arms. “She is still in Birmingham. I returned today, and—someone was at my house while we were gone. I saw the evidence of that, and”—she covered her cheeks with her hands—“I lost my head. There are no other words for it.”
He embraced her shoulders with one arm and encouraged her to move. “Of course you did. Come inside.”
She let him guide her to a chair in the library. Since she still shook, he lit a low fire. Then he poured a finger of brandy and handed her the glass.
“I do not imbibe strong spirits.”
“You do tonight. Drink it.”
He stood over her until she did.
She made a face after it went down, but some color returned to her skin. She looked around the library’s bare shelves and few chairs and one table.
“I thought he was still in the house,” she said. “Whoever had entered it, that is. I thought I heard him above, so I ran and”—she gestured helplessly at herself—“you were the closest. I thought he followed me. I may have imagined that part. I don’t know.”
She was more herself now. Much more, if she felt obligated to excuse her arrival in the middle of the night. She had chosen to sit on cold stones all night lest he misunderstand.
“How did you know there had been a housebreaking? Was something missing?” He could not imagine what thieves would want to take. So little remained in that house.
“He—they destroyed things. Threw items all around and poured turpentine on my paintings. They tore up floorboards and pulled off panels. They must have been very angry that there was nothing of value to take. I expect they laughed and thought it all great fun, ruining the home of someone else.”
“They were probably men who used to make free with this house, and when they saw they could no longer, they went looking for another. Since yours was close and empty, it was vulnerable.”
“Perhaps.” She frowned over the possibility. “The region is changing. The city grows closer all the time. I see strangers moving about the country, on the roads and lanes and crossingfields. I have been foolish to think my life would remain the same. I do not think I will ever again feel as safe as I used to.”
The thought had her huddling in on herself again. Her brow furrowed over sad eyes. Left on her own she would ponder the invasion all night, and emerge at dawn afraid of her own shadow.
“You are very safe now, Eva. Tomorrow we will go to your house and see how bad it is in the light of day. Until then you are not to think about it.” He held out his hand. “Come with me. I was about to find some supper. You can help.”
She let him lead her down to the kitchen. He lit some lamps and peered at the shelves. Warmth hovered near his shoulder. She stood close and peered up too. Her proximity started his blood simmering.Not now, you ass.
“The ham would be good,” she said. “I have not eaten all day, and would accept some if you offered it.”
He brought down the ham, cheese, and some bread that wasn’t too stale. He filled thick glasses with beer from the small keg against the wall. “Harold has taken to making sure there are basic provisions here.”
She found dishes and knives. “I expect he and Erasmus hope to work here all the time someday. When you staff your household, they want to be first in line.”
“That will not happen until some legalities regarding the property are settled. I have explained that to them so they do not pass up other opportunities should any arrive.”
She sat at the rough-surfaced worktable. He sat across from her so he would not be tempted to touch her.
She carved at the ham. “I am surprised you do not already have whatever servants you may need. You appear the sort of man who would.”
When he had thought to distract her with a meal, he had not expected to end up talking about himself. “I have never felt the need for them. I am alone and move around a lot.”
She made a display of concentrating on how she cut up her ham. Curiosity poured off her as clearly as fear had less than a half hour ago.
“Ask if you want,” he said.
Her knife went to work cutting her cheese into mouth-sized morsels. “That would be rude.”
“You are wondering how the bastard son of a duke lives, if he has no obvious living.”
Slice. Slice. Slice.
“My father left me a respectable income. I also serve as a go-between on some business affairs, Eva. A broker. Normally one side is in England, and one side is on the Continent. I travel there often.”
“Is that why you never married? Because you move about so much?”
