Page 68 of The Earl She Once Saved

The words found an old wound. Verity had spent years turning silence into certainty: Roland would never return, Rafe had forgotten her, and anything she loved would eventually leave.

Verity looked back toward the window. Sergeant had never failed her. People had gone: her father, Roland, friends who found disgrace inconvenient, and relations who wrote condolences and nothing else.

Sergeant remained through empty rooms, lean winters, and his mistress’ long humiliation of being neither wife nor widow, he placed his head upon her knee each evening as though nothing essential had altered.

The old dog was not merely beloved. He was proof that something could stay.

Rain beat against the windows. Verity closed her eyes. If he did not return, something inside her would go with him.

At some point, the clock struck two. The storm had moved farther away, but the rain continued. No one had found Sergeant.

Verity rose. Win blocked her before she reached the door.

“Move.”

“No.”

“I have waited.”

“And you will wait longer.”

“I cannot.”

The words broke from her. Win went still.

A gust drove the rain hard against the windows and Ezra’s assurance returned to her: Rafe will not leave him. It no longer sounded comforting. Rafe would keep searching the flooded hollows and fallen trees long after prudence demanded he turned back, because he knew what Sergeant meant to her.

“I cannot sit here while Sergeant is lost and Rafe is risking himself to find him.”

Ezra’s eyes lifted. Verity reached for her cloak. Win caught it first.

“My lady, you are exhausted. You cannot see the lower road at night even in fair weather.”

“Rafe has been gone for hours.”

“He knows what he is doing,” Ezra reminded her.

“And if he is hurt?”

The question silenced the room. Verity looked from one to the other. She hated the fear in her own voice. She hated that it had widened to hold more than Sergeant.

“I am going.”

Win gripped the cloak. “Then I am coming with you.”

“You are not.”

That was the exact moment when the outer door opened and wind rushed through the hall. All three of them turned to find Rafe standing upon the threshold.

Water streamed from his hair and coat. His boots were thick with mud. His face was drawn with cold and exhaustion. Beside him, shivering so violently that his whole body shook, stood Sergeant.

For one second, Verity could not move. Then the dog saw her. His tail struck the doorframe.

“Sergeant.”

She did not remember crossing the hall. She dropped to her knees and gathered him against her. His coat was wet and cold, smelling of rain, mud and leaves. He pushed his head beneath her chin and made a low sound in his throat.

“You dreadful, dreadful creature.”