“I can serve myself.”
“Please sit. After intruding on you this morning, I feel the need to make amends.” She could spend her lif
e doting on him and it would never be enough. “Two eggs?” It was time she stopped acting like a frightened doe, time she drew on the confidence and strength it took to saunter through the ballrooms, to smile and play the elegant lady regardless of her mounting problems. “Sit down, Finlay.”
He obeyed.
The last time they dined together was the day he returned from Belgium. Her father insisted he stay for dinner despite feeling unwell. Lord Adair’s constant talk of his stables made up for the lack of conversation, though she could still recall the crippling tension, still recall the piercing pain in Finlay’s eyes.
He had survived the horrors of Leuven.
But she had died inside that day.
“Here we are.” She forced a smile. “Two eggs and a generous helping of ham. There’s toast in the rack.”
He remained stiff and silent when she played footman and served his breakfast. Indeed, his shoulders only relaxed when she settled into the seat opposite.
“Be aware, Jessica often gets confused,” she said to break the awkward silence. “She’s forgetful. Her mind constantly slips back and forth between the past and present.”
Finlay cut into his poached egg. “You said she is sometimes possessed by wickedness. Can you elaborate?”
When focusing on his work, he seemed less tense.
“Jessica says frightening things to scare me, taunts me with tales of witches dancing beneath the full moon.” She glanced out of the window at the woods. One could almost smell the dampness and decay. “Blent said the woods were home to a coven of witches hundreds of years ago. At certain times of the month, you can still hear their whispered curses.”
Finlay arched a brow. “No doubt Jessica’s mind is susceptible to stories. Perhaps she struggles to distinguish between the truth and a servant’s mindless blabbering. But I shall know more once I’ve seen her.”
One could not deny the woods were eerie. Many times, Sophia had woken in the early hours convinced she heard the strange chanting. But maybe Finlay was right. When overwrought, the mind played tricks.
“She brought a sheep skull home and keeps it in her room. She wanders the cold corridors at night,” Sophia continued. “We found her near the deadwood, wearing nothing but her nightdress and boots.”
“The deadwood?”
“A small clearing surrounded by a cluster of dead trees. Superstition prevents Blent from chopping them down for firewood. Nothing grows there. The land is barren.”
“Superstition stems from a fear of the unknown.” His mouth thinned into a mocking line. “I believe everything can be explained given time. I’m confident it has nothing to do with witchcraft or curses.”
“No.” She was keen to cling to his interpretation. “You’re right, of course.”
“Have you considered selling the house and moving Jessica elsewhere?” He reached for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “It seems these strange tales are adding to your anxiety.”
She had considered it more times than she could count. But appearances were often deceptive. “No one wants to live here, yet it’s a place where Jessica can hide from prying eyes. And I am but the custodian of the house in Portland Street and only have use of it until I remarry or die.”
His gaze turned penetrating. “Do you intend to remarry?”
“Of course not.” She would marry no one but him. “I’m merely stating the terms of William’s will. The house belongs to the current Lord Adair.”
The young lord was an arrogant toad of twenty-five who acted like a spoilt brat. His innate curiosity, coupled with his suspicion that Sophia had stolen from his late father’s estate, had him snooping into her affairs at every given opportunity. Indeed, since William’s death two years ago, Fitzroy Adair had caused no end of misery.
“One rarely sees the current lord about town.”
“Fitzroy hangs with a set who prefer Brighton and Bath. They spend but a few months a year in London.”
“And he has no claim on this house?” Finlay asked.
“None whatsoever.”
William had given her the money to purchase Blackborne as a wedding gift. Although it sounded heartless, their marriage had been a business arrangement that suited her when she believed Finlay was dead. Protecting Jessica had been the only motivation to wed.