“Yes, miss. He be speaking with his l–lordship now, but he be saying to dress w–warm on account of him wishing to take you on a ride.”
A ride.Anticipation made her drop the book. She must hurry, find Minney to help her into something warm, and—
“Miss Gillingham?”
She refocused on Miss Reay, and when the maid placed a thin hand on Eliza’s arm, she felt the tremors.
“My daughter…she be something a lot like you.” Miss Reay shook her head and whimpered. “I—I be so ashamed of myself I could die.”
Pity stirred in all the places where Eliza had resented the woman. She hesitated, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the woman’s gaunt cheek. “You were only afraid of him, as I was afraid of him.” Eliza’s heart soared. “But he has no hold on us anymore, does he? We are both quite free of him now.”
“We know the last of them.” Felton tossed a piece of paper to the untidy surface of Lord Gillingham’s desk.
The viscount lifted it, perused it, then creaked back in his chair. “How?”
“Man called Swabian. He has been locked up ever since the rest of them, but two days ago he …” Felton sighed and rubbed his face.
“He what?”
“Hung himself in the village cage. He left the names in his boot.”
“I see.”
Felton slid his hands into the pockets of his tailcoat. “My lord, I …” His throat dried. He coughed, went to the oak stand in the corner, and uncorked the glass decanter. “I daresay, you are likely the only gentleman alive who would dare keep water in his study.”
“Let us not spread the word abroad, shall we?”
Felton poured a glass and swallowed it down in one gulp.
“Good?”
“My lord?”
“The water.” The chair legs scraped wood as if the viscount stood. “As you seem uncommonly thirsty, I inquired if the water was satisfactory.”
“Oh. Yes.” Felton curled his fingers around the glass but kept his back to Lord Gillingham. He squeezed tighter. Waited.
“Northwood?”
“Hmm?”
“You had better say what you wish to say before you bust that glass between your fingers.”
“I wish to marry your daughter.” The words came out fast, breathy. He turned and met a pair of piercing eyes.
“It was my understanding you wished to marry Miss Haverfield.”
“No.”
“Why? She embodies everything you have ever wished for in matrimony. Beauty, wealth, social standing—”
“She is not Eliza.”
“Meaning?”
“I love her.” Strange, how releasing it was to speak the words. To have them alive, echoing through his mind, powerful enough they sent chills up and down his arms. “I knew before, only I was a fool.”
“They are only fools, Northwood, who continue in their folly.” The viscount approached. He clapped his hand on Felton’s shoulder. “What do you wish me to say?”
