“Do you care so little for your reputation?” Blunt, Magdala hissed, “What of hers?”
As if the very idea were foreign, ridiculous, Mr. Harrow narrowed his eyes. “I will stay.”
“If you care for her, leave her to Payne.” Insistent, Magdala pressed, “He is the only person she might listen to. He’s the only one she’ll fight for.”
Black eyes went to the stairs, Gregory ready to climb them in search of the sickly Imp. “I will stay.”
“No.” A foreign voice came from the far side of the room. “You go.”
Two heads spun to find Mary, still as stone holding a pot of boiling water. She did not blink, her eyes fixated on nothingness as she walked.
Impatient with the continuous distractions, Gregory turned his sneer from maid to housekeeper. Roughly grasping Magdala’s wrist, he threatened, “I brought her to you. I found her when you could not. And I will seek you come morning, where you will tell me everything you know.”
“I know nothing,” Magdala hissed, fruitlessly working to regain her wrist so she might rush to her mistress.
“You know enough, even more than Arabella believes you do. And you will confess it to me willingly or I will bleed it from your withered bones befo
re I dump your carcass into a bog.” He tossed back the captured limb, turning before the blanching servant could speak.
He left so angry the wooden door cracked from the weight of his abuse.
* * *
It was sunrise when the fever broke. Arabella felt herself lifted, cradled against a familiar shoulder. Bloodshot eyes opened and Payne was there, stroking damp hair from her face.
“If you died, I would follow.” He frowned so greatly, his gaze unbearably sad. “Remember that.”
Tears stung her eyes as they fell into her hair. It was hard to speak, but she tried. “I gave you Hugh to care for. You cannot leave him.”
A hoarse baritone questioned, “Is that why you brought him here?”
Perhaps... perhaps that was precisely why she’d called the scamp forward when she’d seen him huddled in the dark.
Payne shook his head in disagreement. “Magdala could care for him better than I.”
Wheezing, Arabella sobbed. “I failed in London... Dalton would have burned down the house and killed all those servants. I would have been counted as dead. No soul would think to look for me.”
It would not do, Payne had to stop her panic. “This house is stone. Stone does not burn.”
“He’ll come here. Dalton and the others will come here and they will hurt you. It’s over. We have to leave.”
Their end did not have to be so grim. At the sound of approaching boots on the stairs, Payne laid her down, pulling the covers up to her chin. “We stay.”
He retook his seat near the silent Mary just as the doctor came in to check his patient.
Chapter 14
“S o this is what you do with your days.”
Caught by surprise, emerald eyes darted from the moors to the friendly face of Mr. Jenkins. She had expected to be seen by no one, hurriedly rearranging the state of her dress—clumsy fingers assuring all buttons were done up proper, and that the majority of her gown was covered by the split velvet of her coat.
Edmund fought a light chuckle, amused to see her windswept braid uncovered by a bonnet and her gloveless fingers nervously toying with colorful ribbons tasseled at the end. “I had heard rumors your carriage passed through town four days back. You did not answer my letter, so I am thrilled to see you have indeed returned to us.”
“Mr. Jenkins,” Arabella tried to behave as a proper lady, she tried not to show her embarrassment. “I have never seen you out alone on the moors. Are you exploring or hunting snipe?”
He enjoyed her quip and followed when she nudged her horse to his side. “Is there a reason you are leading me from Mr. Harrow’s land, your ladyship?”
“Yes.” Arabella was resolute. “He would not take kindly should your presence be discovered here.”