Page 37

It was fragile hope, but it was the only one she had, and she kept a tight hold on it as she crept from under the covers. Jacob stirred slightly when she placed her foot on a creaking floorboard but thankfully he didn’t wake, his eyes staying firmly closed as she tiptoed across the room and began to pull on her clothes.

The previous day’s horror had hardly dimmed. She hadn’t slept at all, Anthony’s ghastly smile and the spiteful triumph in his voice haunting her throughout the night. She hadn’t emerged from the bedroom since she’d fled to it, pleading a sudden headache as the reason she hadn’t returned to Isabella’s parlour, and her stomach twisted with the unwelcome knowledge she’d let Jacob believe the same lie.

In the feeble half-light peeping from beneath the curtains, she peered towards her slumbering husband. He was stretched out beneath his blankets, one arm tucked beneath his pillow, and she was seized with the urge to stroke the dark hair back from his brow. She should have been honest with him, telling him what Anthony had threatened her with and how desperate it had made her feel, and in truth she still wasn’t entirely sure why she had not.

Perhaps I didn’t want to stir up more antagonism between him and his brother. Or perhaps I didn’t want Jacob to feel he had to intervene on my behalf once again.

Either option might have been the answer, or neither. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she hadn’t wanted to burden Jacob with what had happened, and although her conscience gave a twinge at her deception she hadn’t given in to it. He’d seemed to enjoy being among the friends and family who had gathered for the christening, and she didn’t want to sour it with yet more trouble of her making.

All the same… A growing sense of guilt accompanied her as she moved towards the door. Dread and unhappiness were already lodged behind her breastbone and it was horribly uncomfortable to add another emotion, the combination making her hesitate with her fingers brushing the handle.

‘Where are you going?’

A drowsy voice from behind made her look over her shoulder. To her dismay, she saw Jacob was watching her, although his eyes were barely open.

‘Just for a walk.’

‘Oh.’ He mumbled into his pillow. ‘Should I go with you?’

Swiftly she shook her head. ‘It’s very early,’ she whispered soothingly. ‘Go back to sleep. I won’t be long.’

Thankfully he didn’t take much convincing. With an inaudible grumble he rolled over, and she heard his breathing deepen as he drifted off again, leaving her to slip from the room before she could tempt fate a second time.

There were only servants up at such an unsociable hour. A couple of the housemaids looked at her curiously as she passed, but nobody tried to delay her as she scurried down the grand central staircase towards the front door. She half-expected Anthony to have posted a guard outside her bedroom to prevent her from escaping to warn her father, but perhaps he hadn’t imagined she’d act so fast.

He’d said he wouldn’t evict Pa until next week, she thought darkly as she swung her cloak around her shoulders. Probably Anthony thought she’d dally, putting off having to deliver such wretched tidings, and it gave her a kind of grim satisfaction to prove him wrong. He was much mistaken if he imagined she’d shy away from the mess she’d created and, although the prospect of telling her father made her chest ache, she knew what she had to do.

In near silence she eased open Wellbourne House’s front door and stepped out. Immediately the chill of the autumn morning snatched at her and she pulled her cloak closer to her chest as she hastened across the drive towards the gate that led to the woods.

She kept her ears pricked for noises, picking her way through the trees with the wariness of a deer. The dim morning light was invaluable: shadows and trunks that she might have mistaken for human figures during the night were more easily seen for what they were with the lifting of total darkness, and it allowed her to move more quickly. There was no sign of the gamekeepers, the chatter of waking birds and rustling of leaves her only company on her cautious progress towards the village.

Walking as briskly as she dared, she saw she was growing closer to the rough road that ran through the estate. The last time she’d encountered it had been in the back of the gamekeepers’ cart, trundling off to Marchingham’s accursed jail, and she didn’t want to remember the depth of her terror. It had been the most dreadful night—but also the one on which Jacob had re-entered her life, and it was odd to think that so much had stemmed from so disastrous a situation.

The knowledge that she should have confided in him chased her as she approached the road, but she turned her back on it. What mattered now was that she confessed all to Pa, and everything else would have to wait, including the lingering guilt that dogged her as she drew to a halt behind a tree.

Peering out from the crooked trunk, she scanned the road in both directions. Crossing it would leave her exposed to anyone who might be watching and she hesitated, eyes keen as she searched through the opposite line of trees. Were any of Anthony’s men lying in wait there? Perhaps the one with the mastiff, his dog straining to be allowed to slip its lead and chase her back to the house?

She gave herself a shake. She couldn’t afford to be timid. Her father needed to know what was in store for him and, gathering her nerve, she picked up her skirts, ready to jump over a patch of nettles that stood in her way.

The thud of approaching hooves sent her flying back behind her tree.

Pressing herself against the rough bark, she heard the unmistakable sound of a gig rattling towards her. The wheels squeaked as though it was being driven far too fast and she heard the horse’s breath coming hard, its snorts cutting through the woodland’s dawn quiet. Whoever was steering was obviously in a rush, and she risked a peep as the gig flashed past, curious to see who, other than herself, could have pressing business so early in the morning.

The apprehension already roiling inside her surged up with the force of an erupting volcano. In the weak light of daybreak, she could just make out the driver’s face, and although he passed by her in the blink of an eye there could be no mistake.

Anthony!

Immediate uneasiness seized her. Where could he be going at such a time, when usually he was among the last to rise? The road through the estate only led to two places—Marchingham and Hayworth—and it was with cloying dread she realised which was most likely.

Anthony was going to tell Pa that he was being thrown off their plot of land. She just knew it, as instinctively as anyone knew to withdraw their hand from an open flame. There was no trace of doubt in her mind, and all at once she felt ashamed she’d been so easy to trick.

The Viscount had never intended to wait before evicting her father. He’d only told her that in the hope she wouldn’t be in such a hurry to intervene if she thought she had more time, probably to avoid her involving Jacob. He must have been laughing behind his hand that she’d believed his lie, and her blood heated at his cruelty, anger building that could be blamed on her just as much as him.

The tree’s sharp bark was digging into her palms. She hadn’t noticed she was pressing her hands against it and she pulled them away, hardly registering the red marks left on her skin. All she could think was that she’d been too late: to warn her family that they were losing their home; to admit to Pa how badly she had failed Peter and him; and to show Anthony that, despite his attempts to squash them, the villagers wouldn’t give in without a fight.

Despair setting in, she pushed herself away from the tree. Hiding there would do nothing. If she hurried, she might still be able to get to Lark Cottage to comfort her father soon after he’d heard the news, or perhaps even arrive just as Anthony was delivering it. He’d take no care to phrase it gently, as she would have done, and only her determination to spare Pa as much pain as possible made her resolve to face the Viscount again, the prospect of looking into his cold, mocking eyes once more curdling her insides.

A sudden loud crash from somewhere very nearby, followed by a terrible cry, made her wheel round in alarm.