“Why?”
“They are Northwood shoulders.”
The lump grew.
“And your parents. Their shoulders are Northwood too. You have forgotten that, have you not?”
Yes, he’d forgotten. Of course he had. How long had he been carrying a burden that should have belonged to all of them? Thatdidbelong to all of them? Now that a new burden was upon them, should he not trust his parents were strong enough to shoulder the weight?
“Now.” Lord Gillingham opened his book again. “What say you to dinner?”
He came to his feet and smiled despite himself. Why did the viscount always have the wisdom he needed? How was it the older man always knew what to say—even if it wasn’t always what Felton wanted to hear? He was a tonic, Lord Gillingham. A tonic and a friend. “Yes, my lord. I suppose my duties can wait.”
“I thought they could.”
“Only I must speak with Miss Gillingham first. I wish to tell her a bit of news I discovered this morning.”
“We have left her undisturbed today, for I hear she has quite exhausted herself over the care of Minney. Your news shall not take long, I trust?”
“I will be but a moment.” Felton left the room and headed to Eliza’s bedchamber. The weight in his chest had lessened.
He would be all right.
Indeed, all of them would—because Lord Gillingham spoke truth. They were Northwoods. Just because they had lost one of their own did not mean they would fall apart now. Hugh wouldn’t want that. He was a fighter. Whoever killed Lady Gillingham fourteen years ago is who made him one. Who else could be blamed for this? Hugh would have never joined Wellington’s troops, would have never rushed off to fight foreign battles, if there had not been a more severe battle at home.
The one that made all the ladies deny a courtship to any Northwood. The one that made them whispered of, laughed at, and scorned by every common villager. The one that made Mamma sick and Papa isolated and all of their childhood marred with guilt and shame.
Yes, this was another thing Lady Gillingham’s murderer had taken from him. His youngest brother. But such a killer would pay. For everything. One way or another.
I vow it to you, Hugh.He took the last few steps two at a time. When he reached Eliza’s door, he tapped quietly with a fist. A sore fist. “Eliza.”
Already, his heart pumped harder. Why should that happen to him every time? As if he couldn’t control his own emotions. As if she had more power over him than he did himself.
“Eliza?” He pushed open the door. Probably shouldn’t have. After all, Lord Gillingham told him she’d been resting.
But when he stepped inside, the bed was empty. Unrumpled. The only chair was empty too. Had she gone back to sit with Minney?
He approached the stand by her bed. How strange it felt, being here, alone in a room she was wont to inhabit. He touched the Bible, then one of Playford’s dancing manuals he’d told her to read.
Half tucked under a pillow on the bed, a flash of white on the pink counterpane caught his eye. He unfolded the paper and read the ink that seemed shaky and hurried.My father is the one you seek, Mr. Northwood. Whether you can believe me or not, he has deceived us all. I beg you not to come after me, for I can never return now. I never want to. Thank you for the ocean. I shall always remember.
Felton burst into the dining room, the note in his fist. “She is gone.”
Lord Gillingham froze, and the maid serving a steaming platter of beef and potatoes nearly spilled her dish. As she winced and left the table, the viscount stood, his face devoid of color. “Gone where?”
“The forest.”
A groan rumbled out. “I should have known this would happen. How long?”
“I hardly know.”
“I shall have my men and horses prepared and set after her at once. If we ride fast and hard, perhaps we shall catch up with her before any danger—”
“I go alone.” Sweat dampened the note in his grip. The note that burned fires of doubt, of uncertainty through all the trust and respect he’d always held for this man. What had made Eliza run this way, even knowing the danger? What had so convinced her of her father’s guilt? Had he been wrong not to listen to her?
“Northwood.”
Jaw clenched, he forced his eyes to Lord Gillingham.
