“Hungry?”
She nodded, but it wasn’t true. Especially not when they reached the breakfast parlor and the door swept open to the same scene as yesterday.
Mr. Northwood. Seated at the table. Newspaper in one hand and steaming teacup in the other. “Ah, just the person, Son. Sit down.”
Felton waited until Eliza took her seat before he took the chair next to her.
“Miss Haverfield, I fear, has given her farewells and made a hasty departure. I arranged for the groom to take her back in our carriage.”
A flicker of relief shot through Eliza, but it faded just as quickly. Miss Haverfield had been her diversion these past days. Her companion, albeit an intimidating one. What would she do now that the woman had departed? When Felton was gone, she’d be…she’d be …
Alone.She raised her eyes to Mr. Northwood as he spoke back and forth with Felton, the words droning away without meaning. His eyes smiled often. He laughed too. The sound was lighthearted and pleasant, in likeness to that of his son’s.
He’d killed her mother. He must have. Nothing else made sense. Why else would he have been there that night? Why else had he climbed through her window and trapped her mouth with his hand?
She watched the same hand now, as he lifted the teacup to his lips, then lowered it to the saucer with aclank.He laughed again, but all she heard was his voice.“Do not scream.”
She squeezed her hands under the table.
“I shall not hurt you, Miss Gillingham.”
Yet he had. He must have. He was the beast, wasn’t he? The claws, the claws, the claws …
“Hold onto my neck.”
No, she wouldn’t.
“Do not fight me. Do not scream. Please, Miss Gillingham, do not scream.”
“What think you to that, Eliza?”
She snapped her face to Felton as he stood from his chair. “Forgive me…think to what?”
“I have errands to do in the village today, but Papa has offered to give you a tour of the grounds. We haven’t much to boast of, but as you are so fond of the outdoors, it will be a pleasant diversion for you.”
She stood as well and swallowed. “Please, Felton. I wish to go with you.”
“Not possible.”
“Felton, I—”
“Sit back down, and I shall get your breakfast. Tea or chocolate?” When she didn’t answer, nearly wilted back into her chair, he decided for her. Seconds later, he lowered a cup of hot cocoa and two tiny cakes made with caraway seeds. The wafting scent stirred hunger despite her lack of appetite.
Felton returned to his seat beside her with his own plate. The meal passed quickly, strangely, the silence broken only when their forks bumped the plates or their cups clanged the saucers.
Then Felton stood again and pulled the napkin from his cravat. “Good day to both of you. I shall return in time for dinner at the very least.” He started from the room—
“Felton.” She burst from her chair and caught him at the door. She circled his arm with her hand. “Please, take me with you.”
She hadn’t meant to lean so close to him. Or whisper in his face like this.
But instead of drawing away, he leaned forward. His lips brushed her forehead and he whispered back, “I shall return soon. Do not worry. Papa shall keep you from any harm.”
Then he hurried away.
And she was alone with the man from her nightmare.
Felton threw the saddle over his horse’s back and tightened the girth. Gads, but it was haunting him. The look on her face, the desperation in her eyes, as if she were communicating something vital she couldn’t speak aloud.
