“You what, dear?” Miss Haverfield laughed and, when Eliza never spoke further, shook her head with a sigh. “La, but you are strange, poor thing. It is no wonder our goodly-hearted Felton has gone to such lengths to help you. How could anyone not?”
Was that why Felton had brought her here? In pity?
“But there, I can see I have upset you. Pay no mind to me, my dear, as I am never saying the right things.” Miss Haverfield swept to the door, patted her cluster of perfect ringlets, and smiled once more midthreshold. “I am glad, truly, that you are here, Miss Gillingham. I am ever so in need of a friend to confide in. I have so many, many secrets where Felton Northwood is concerned.”
Dodie squeezed in with another steaming bucket, so with a wink in Eliza’s direction, the beautiful Miss Haverfield sashayed away.
Mouth dry, Eliza glanced down at her unclean feet. Her ankles were swollen from the jump from the window, and she wiggled sore toes against the clean Axminster carpet. How revolting she must seem. How wild and unsightly. What a fool to imagine Felton Northwood might once look at her and see something he could desire.
She should be grateful for his pity.
And forget any imagination of his love.
“How are you, Mamma?”
How pale and small she looked, covered to her neck in bed linens, with puffy eyes and cheeks. Her chestnut hair stuck to the side of her face, whether from sweat or tears he could not tell.
Felton sat next to her on the edge of the bed, wincing when it creaked for fear it might upset her.
She didn’t seem to notice. She didn’t seem to notice anything. Her gaze remained steady on some unknown object across the room, and every second or two she moved her lips.
He didn’t have to hear to understand what she whispered.
“Mamma, I am home again.” He smoothed her hair on the pillow, tucked the bed linen around her frail shoulders.
But she didn’t answer. Maybe she never would. Maybe he’d lost her, just as he’d lost Hugh, just as they’d lost a thousand other things so vital to them.
He eased his head onto her chest. Listened to a heartbeat so feeble it made his own pound harder.God, do not let her die.The prayer came again, and again, and again. Maybe if he begged enough times, God would show mercy and give her life. She deserved life, didn’t she?
She’d never been sickly before.
She’d never been sad before.
Not when Aaron and Felton and Hugh were young. When they’d played outside near the rosebushes, nodded when Mamma told them not to spoil their skeleton suits, and cheered when she’d come out of doors to give them each a sugar plum. She’d smiled in those days. She’d even laughed. He remembered the sound because it haunted him sometimes, in the dead of night, when he heard her sobs drift between the house’s walls.
Help me find him, Christ.The man who had done this to them. The man who had ruined his name and tried one too many times to end Eliza’s life.
If that man was Lord Gillingham, so help him…Felton would lose control of himself. He’d bash in his face or pin him to the wall or choke the breath from him, if the one friend he trusted had betrayed him.
Slow fingers moved through his hair.
Felton raised his head. “Mamma?”
For the first time, her eyes focused on his face. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Son?”
“Yes, Mamma. I am here.”
“You were gone so long. A mother needs her son.” Tears. “A mother needs her sons by her side.”
“I had to go, Mamma. You know that.”
“For the girl?”
“Yes. There was no safety where she came from, so I brought her back here. She will be protected with us.”
“You are a good boy, Felton.” She turned her head and closed her eyes. She murmured more, things too quiet to hear, then drifted away into slumber.
Felton left her chamber. He had three or four hours before dinner would be served.
