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Chapter Thirteen

Kendra brushed a strand of pale blonde hair off Amaryllis’s face. Poor dear. The eldest, she knew something was amiss. She’d finally fallen into a fitful slumber about fifteen minutes ago.

The sweet, but energetic lasses had bombarded her with questions when she’d entered the nursery almost seven hours ago. She’d mentioned nothing about their mother and had introduced herself as Broden’s betrothed.

Their governess and nurse eyed Kendra speculatively but had been polite if a bit reserved. Likely they understood full well that as the wife of the girls’ guardian, she would have much input on whether they retained their positions.

She’d excused them both to take a couple of hours for themselves and had earned grateful smiles, and she hoped, allies. She’d need all of the help she could muster to take on the task of raising the girls.

“I’m retirin’ now,” she whispered to Nurse, sitting by the fire and knitting.

The woman glanced up, her friendly expression encouraging Kendra. “The young misses took to you, Miss Mackay. That’s not typical. Except for the eldest, they are generally quite shy with strangers.”

Hands on her hips, Kendra arched her back. She was unaccustomed to romping about on the floor, playing all manner of games and make-believe. “I’m glad.”

The nurse put aside her knitting and slowly gained her feet. She was of an age when she really ought to retire, but as with many in service, they didn’t have the resources to do so. Kendra had no idea what the woman’s wages were, but at the very least, a younger woman should be hired to assist her.

She’d speak to Broden about it.

When he returned.

Of its own accord, her gaze gravitated to the small clock on Amaryllis’s nightstand. Nearly nine. It shouldn’t have taken this long for Broden and the others to return. Something must’ve gone wrong.

She’d sent word to the men guarding the countess to double-check and make sure all of the doors to the house were locked.

Nurse approached Kendra, and after a covert glance to the sleeping girls, motioned for her to step into the room she shared with the governess. Miss Postelwaite glanced up from the papers she was grading, her eyes owlish behind her spectacles.

“We wondered if we might have a word with you, Miss MacKay.” Nurse exchanged a hesitant glance with the governess.

“Yes, quite,” Miss Postelwaite said, setting aside her spectacles before rising. She folded her hands primly before her. “As I’m sure you can guess, we’ve heard… That is, the other staff report…” She drew in a large breath, her chest expanding. “There’s really no tactful way to ask. Is it true the countess is behind the plot to assassinate Lord Montforth?”

Kendra shifted her attention between them. “I think it best if you speak directly to his lordship regarding the matter.”

Nurse swallowed, and after Miss Postelwaite gave her an encouraging nod, she ventured closer to Kendra. “We’ve,” she gestured between herself and the governess, “long suspected she might’ve had something to do with the previous earl’s demise.”

And her sons’ demises, too.

Kendra didn’t feel it was her place to apprise them of the repugnant facts. Particularly not with the girls a few feet away and within hearing distances if they should wake. “I’m sorry, but, again, I must defer to Lord Montforth. I’m certain he will explain all as soon as he’s able.”

With a friendly smile, she made her way to the bedchamber she’d been shown to earlier. As she’d requested, a bath had been prepared, and someone had even procured a nightgown for her. She fervently hoped it wasn’t one of the countess’s.

After bathing and washing her hair, she sat before the fire, brushing the strands to expedite their drying. Despite her determination not to, her attention gravitated to the clock. Another hour had passed, and still, there’d been no word.

Had Broden returned and decided it was too late to see her?

No, he wouldn’t do that. Any more than she’d do the same to him.

Sighing, firmly banishing her vivid imagination to the far corners of her mind, she set aside the hairbrush and closed her eyes. Resting her head against the chair’s high back, she relived the past couple of months.

So much had changed.

She was in love. In love with the most magnificent man.

His absence these past weeks had been almost unbearable. What was it about being in love that made a person’s soul yearn for its other half? This time when they’d parted, it had felt like her heart had been carved from her chest. That it wouldn’t beat a steady rhythm until she was with him once more.

A soft scratching at the door had her eyelids flying open.

Broden. Och, thank God.