Another hour was gone.
Eliza turned her face back into the pillow in hopes the soft fabric and feathers would muffle her cries. She needed to stop. Captain would want her to stop. He would croon for her to be strong and brave and determined.
But she didn’t know how to be determined, or what to be determined about. What now? What did she do? Where did she go? Back to Lord Gillingham whom she’d run from? Back to the cottage where the dead body was buried in the forest floor?
One thing was certain.
She couldn’t stay here.
Felton’s face, his accusations, his anger, rushed back at her. Another nightmare, doubtless. Another hurt she would carry with her for years to come, as sharp as Captain’s death or the beast’s claws.
I am sorry.The words again. Over and over and over, because she didn’t know what else to think or how else to make it better.Felton, I am sorry.
She knew it changed nothing. She knew his love would be cold now. Even the death of his affections, the end of his kisses, would have been a tragedy she could bear.
But to lose his friendship too?
More tears spilled forth, and she curled her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them. No, she could not bear to lose his friendship. To lose his smile falling carelessly upon her. Or his fingers snagging hers when she felt lost or alone. Or his orders. His wonderful orders. What would she do without those incessant orders?
She needed him. Loved him. Depended on him.
He was all she’d had left.
God, let the nightmare be wrong.An empty prayer because she knew it was true. The memory was too clear.Let it all go away somehow. Let Felton not hurt like this. Let him not despise me for what I have told him.
But that was an empty prayer too.
He already did.
A small tap came at the door and Eliza jumped. She peeled back the bed linens, shivering against the chill. “Wh–who is it?”
“Dodie, Miss Gillingham.” The door creaked open, and the girl slipped in, clad in nightgown and stockings with a candlestick in one hand. “I be sorry to wake you, Miss Gillingham, but do you not be ’earin’ it?”
“Hearing what?”
“Why, Merrylad, of course, Miss Gillingham. Why, I just said to the stable boy the other day, ‘You make sure that dog is locked tight at night, see, so he don’t be causin’ no trouble and wakin’ the ’ouse.’ And he says to me, he says, ‘Why, Dodie, I always keep him locked in the ’arness room, I do.’ But tonight, the little thing must be runnin’ about near e’eywhere cause I been ’earin’ him barkin’ and ’owlin’ loud as you please.”
Eliza swung out of bed, palming the tears from her cheeks. “My wrapper …”
“Oh, ’ere it be, Miss Gillingham.” Dodie grabbed it from the back of the chair in the corner, opened it up, and helped Eliza into it. “You be needin’ shoes.”
“Never mind.” Eliza peeled off her stockings. She’d gone without shoes most of her life. Why bother with them now?
“Shall I go with you then?”
“No, Dodie. I will see to it.”
“How about I go be findin’ some milk for the thing? Might calm ’im down from whate’er be upsettin’ him so.”
Eliza nodded, tried to offer a smile, and accepted the candlestick Dodie gave her. Then she hurried through the quiet house, her bare feet nearly soundless, and eased her way outside into the blackness.
The moon was gone now. What time must it be? Late enough to be early, doubtless. Why would Merrylad be awake at such an hour? And barking?
Halfway to the stable, another bark froze her. Her blood flow quickened. A bark of pain. Or danger. Or both.
She broke into a run and followed the noise around the stable. The flame of her candle extinguished in the fog, casting her into deep blackness.Merrylad.If anything happened to him, if another animal harmed him …
She turned the corner of the stable and stopped. “Merrylad?” In answer, his fur brushed against her leg and relief clasped her trembling heart back into place. She bent next to him, rubbed his ears, scratched his neck, and pushed her nose against his wet one. “What is it, love? What are you doing out here?”
