They would not do that. At least, she did not think they would go. But they were certainly not here.
‘They didn’t even bother to tell you, did they?’ he said with a mocking moue of sympathy. ‘You were just down the hall, in your room as they packed up to leave. When you go up later, you will see that there is no sign of them. Their clothing is gone andthe beds are stripped. They stole away without even leaving you a note.’
She would not give him the satisfaction. He wanted to see her run from the room, calling for Thomas and Percy, searching the halls. But there was no point in doing it. If he said they were gone, it was so. The old man was far too clever to be caught out in an obvious lie.
But that did not explain the why, or how, or when of it. ‘Where did they go?’ she said. She had meant to stay silent, but she could not help herself. She wanted to know.
‘I have no idea,’ he said, holding his wine up to the light and admiring the rich, red colour of it. Then he glanced past it, to her. ‘Your lover is faithless. Your brother as well. They finally saw in you what I have aways seen. You are not worth the trouble you cause.’
‘That is not true.’ Even as she said it, she could feel herself silently agreeing. She’d told them so often enough. That they didn’t have to bother. That she would be fine without their help. That it was time to give up. What would she do if she’d finally convinced them of the fact, and they’d left her to her fate?
‘Your lover wanted the money. Nothing more than that,’ her grandfather said, taking another spoon of soup and sighing in satisfaction. ‘And I suppose your brother has promised to take you in if you do not wish to live here.’
‘He has,’ she said defiantly.
‘And where will he get the money for that? If I gave him enough to support a wife, he’d have married long before now. He will have even less if he has you tagging along.’ Another spoonful. Another sigh of happiness. ‘But then, you are just the sort of selfish creature to hobble his future with your presence.’
That, at least, was an obvious lie. She had never been selfish. She had always known that Grandfather controlled the purse strings. Even if she managed to get her money, he might use herbetrayal as an excuse to cut Percy’s allowance. She had no doubt her brother wanted to protect her. But she’d protected him, as well. She had kept her misery secret for years instead of begging him to take her away.
‘Our parents did not mean it to be like this,’ she said, sure of that, as well.
‘They are not here,’ he snapped, pushing his bowl aside and clicking his fingers at the footman to signal for the next course. ‘They were as weak as their children are.’
‘Liar.’
She’d thought the word before, but she’d never said it out loud. He would find a way to make her pay for it, she was sure. But it had been worth it to see the shocked look on his face. Her stomach churned and she set her spoon down next to her untouched soup.
‘I had been thinking of returning to my room, after supper,’ he said, smiling. ‘But I have been feeling much better of late. I think I shall remain downstairs with you from now on. Imagine it, my dear Louisa. Day after day. Every meal. Every evening. Now that you are home, as you should be, we shall have such a lovely time.’
She raised her napkin to her mouth. She had eaten nothing, but she was sure she was going to be sick. And Grandfather was still smiling as he thought of the things he would say when she disgraced herself at the table.
Thomas had promised her she would not need to eat with her grandfather again. He was not here to save her, but she was perfectly capable of saving herself. There was food in the kitchen, and the cook would not deny her a crust of bread and a bit of cheese if she asked for it. Eating scraps would be better than staying here.
She folded her napkin and set it aside. Then she rose without a word and left the dining room. She did not stop walking untilshe was out the French doors and had reached the herb knot in the center of the garden. She stood beside it, panting and shaking, waiting for her stomach to settle and her breathing to come back to normal.
He would not follow her here. This was not the first time he’d decided to spend time downstairs. These visits never lasted. He had never come into the garden in all the years she’d lived with him. She was safe as long as she stayed here.
She bent over the herbs, brushing her fingers against the lemon balm and lavender, letting their scents soothe her. She plucked a blossom and held it to her face, then walked on down the path to sit on the bench she’d shared with Thomas.
Grandfather had said he’d abandoned her.
Though the night air was warm, the thought made her shiver. She’d been silly, really. Words could not hurt her. Only a fool would abandon a perfectly good meal to sit hungry and alone…
She took another calming breath of the lavender. Silly and foolish were her grandfather’s words, not hers. He’d also said Thomas had only wanted her for her money. That could not have been further from the truth.
But what was the truth, really? She was not sure she knew, anymore. This afternoon, he’d announced that he loved her. But she’d always assumed that a man who meant it would tell her first, instead of blurting it out to her grandfather. Today’s outburst might have been nothing more than a ploy to win an argument. If it had had any real meaning, she would not be alone, right now.
The moon appeared from behind a cloud casting weird shadows and making the twin stones at the foot of the hill stand out like a pair of grey ghosts.
The lavender flower slipped from her fingers. She blinked and looked again.
There should be two stones. There was one and… Something. A dark silhouette blocked part of the stone on the left. A man was leaning against it, his hat pulled low to obscure his face and a dark cape hiding his shape. He was watching her.
She stood and walked to the path that led down the hill, then out of the garden and down. She’d taken that path many times, both day and night. Going down to the stones and hoping, just once, to find some magic in them. She did not need to see the way. She could feel each step. The places where the grass changed to stone, then back again, before levelling out at the foot of the slope into a worn rut running between the stones.
As she approached, the man straightened. ‘You should not have come down. I might have been anyone. A stranger. A robber.’
‘But you are not just anyone,’ she said, smiling softly at the Duke of Bonham.
