“But I can do it.” Closer. “I do lots of things. Lots of things. Ask Mrs. Eustace and Mr. Cott because they know I do lots of things. And I love dogs. Do’ee believe me that I love dogs?”
Eliza spared one last glance at the gate. What were the chances she could find Captain if she ran through it now?
She didn’t know and she was too confused to make the decision. Instead, she lowered next to Merrylad and swallowed him up in her arms. “I will not leave him.”
The girl appeared hurt, as if Eliza had both called her a liar and ruined something vital, though heaven only knew just what. She said nothing more, merely curtsied awkwardly and tottered back down the stone path.
Eliza waited until the girl was gone before she finally stood. If she was going back inside Monbury Manor, Merrylad was coming with her.
And if Mrs. Eustace or Lord Gillingham didn’t like it?
Let them order her to leave. That is just what she wanted to do.
Felton swooped off his beaver hat and handed it to the butler. “The groom said Lord Gillingham was gone.”
“Early this morning, Mr. Northwood. Off to Bath to attend a ball Lord Afford has arranged for the Tories.”
“I say they invite the Whigs too. Let the two parties fight it out like real men, yes?”
The butler’s lips threatened with a smile. “If you say so, sir.”
“Where is the girl?”
“You will refer to her as Miss Gillingham.” This came from Mrs. Eustace, as she swept down the entrance hall with her keys jingling, prune-faced as ever. “That is her proper name and that is what all are expected to call her.”
“As you say, Mrs. Eustace.” Felton gave an exaggerated bow, to which she responded with a curt nod. “Now, if you shall bring her down to the drawing room, I should be most grateful.”
“There has not been ample time to prepare a wardrobe, and therefore she is unable to receive visitors.”
Didn’t the blasted woman know he’d already seen the girl in plain cotton and pinafore?
“Besides that, she is not in the best of temperaments.”
“Throwing things through windows, is she?”
“No.” Mrs. Eustace raised her chin. “But she has refused to eat unless I relent and allow that beast of a dog back into her bedch—”
“Dog?”
“Yes, a noisome creature who she—”
“Which chamber?”
“What?”
“Which chamber is she in?” When the housekeeper did little more than raise her voice to say she would not permit a young gentleman to visit a young miss in her chamber—and her without proper attire, no less—he pushed past her and found his way upstairs without assistance.
He checked the nursery first.
Empty.
Then he moved to another guest room, one he’d stayed in himself a time or two, and tapped twice before he swung it open.
Another wrong guess. He pulled the door halfway back closed—
And froze. Almost missed her, so small did she appear, huddled in the corner of the room with her thin arms looped about her knees.
A chasm of pity opened inside him. She’d been crying?
