Emily stared at the strange sight. Who would have thought the most feared man in England would walk up the stairs in his stockings to please his housekeeper?
Aye, there was a goodness in Draven’s heart.
Smiling, she took a step toward the stairs, but Beatrix’s tsking stopped her dead in her tracks.
“That goes for you as well, milady.”
Emily bit her lip, then removed her shoes. “Forgive me, dear Beatrix.”
The housekeeper nodded in approval. “I’ll send food up to your chambers. I’m sure you’ll want to rest. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your new bower.”
Emily thanked her, then followed her up the stairs.
She paused as they passed Draven’s room. The door was shut tightly, and she heard no sound of him from within.
Reaching out, she touched the hard wood that separated them and wondered what thoughts were on his mind. He’d been so withdrawn today. Much more so than usual, even for him.
She sighed, then rushed to catch Beatrix who led her to the end of the hallway. Beatrix pushed open the door and allowed Emily to enter.
Emily widened her eyes at the sight of the cheery room. The new bed beckoned with clean sheets and fur coverlets. Another set of tapestries covered the walls, and a thick, woven rug covered the cobbled floor.
While she removed her cloak, Beatrix started the fire. “If milady needs anything, please let me know.”
She stood in silence for several minutes, watching her work. “Beatrix?”
The housekeeper paused and looked up at her over her shoulder. “Aye, milady?”
“Have you any idea what might make Lord Draven smile?”
A dark sadness crossed her face. “There is no power on this earth that could do that.”
“But surely?—”
“Nay, milady. I promise you, there is nothing that could ever bring a smile to his lordship’s lips. Not after...”
Emily waited, but Beatrix turned back to the fire and added more wood.
“Not after what?” she prompted.
“‘Tis not my place to say.” She rose to her feet and brushed her hands off on her skirt. “But were I you, milady, I would avoid him at all costs.”
“And why is that?”
“Because every lady who has ever lived beneath the roof of Ravenswood was murdered here.”
A chill went up her spine. “Murdered? How?”
“By the hand of her lord.”
Emily was aghast. “Draven’s mother?”
“Killed by the hand of his sire.”
The room seemed to careen around her. She couldn’t imagine anything more horrendous. “And Lord Draven, where was he when it happened?”
“On the floor in a beaten, bloody heap from trying to protect her.”
Her chest constricted and her stomach shrank. Emily crossed herself at the thought of such horror. Dear heaven, no wonder he was so withdrawn.
