But even as he thought it, he knew that wasn’t entirely true.Something about Megan had gotten under his skin, touched something he’d thought long dead. Compassion, perhaps. Or recognition. The understanding of one trapped and damaged soul looking at another.
He must have dozed eventually because Webb’s hand on his shoulder brought him instantly alert, his hand going to his pistol before his eyes fully opened.
“Easy, my lord,” Webb whispered. “Movement at the lodge. Thought you’d want to see.”
Oliver rose silently and followed Webb to the edge of their vantage point. Below, in the soft glow of lamplight from the lodge windows, he could see a carriage being prepared. Servants moving with purpose, loading bags and trunks.
“Looks like a change of guards?” Oliver whispered.
It was good news and bad. The bad news was these guards weren’t weary of duty and may be on guard more. The good news was there were only three not four. They seemed to be arguing, wanting one to stay but the four all shook their heads and left.
They watched until the carriage departed, taking the south road toward Llanfair. Then Oliver checked his pocket watch by firelight—nearly midnight.
“Now. We go now.”
* * *
Megan wasin her rooms looking at the night sky wishing she could disappear as easily as the stars did when morning came, as Mrs. Griffiths knocked softly at her door. The housekeeper entered with fresh linens, but her face held an expression Megan had learned to read over the years. One of carefully controlled excitement mixed with fear.
“My lady,” Mrs. Griffiths said quietly, setting down thelinens and moving to close the door. “I need to tell you something, but you mustn’t react. The walls have ears here.”
Megan’s heart began to race. “What is it?”
“A few days ago, in the village, I met two men. Englishmen. They said they were surveyors, but...” Mrs. Griffiths lowered her voice further. “They weren’t surveyors, my lady. One of them moved like a soldier, and the way he asked questions about the Earl, about this place?—”
“What did you tell them?” Megan’s voice came out sharper than intended, fear spiking through her chest.
“Everything.” The old woman’s eyes filled with tears. “I know I shouldn’t have. I know it might come to nothing, or worse, but my lady, I’m sick of watching this. Sick of knowing what he does to you and being too afraid to stop it. So, when that man—tall, handsome, dark-haired, with eyes like winter ice—when he asked about you, I told him the truth.”
Megan stood abruptly, her book falling to the floor. “You didn’t. Mrs. Griffiths, you didn’t?—”
“I did. And I’d do it again.” The housekeeper gripped Megan’s hands. “My lady, they’re here to help you. I’m certain of it. The way that man listened, the way his jaw clenched when I told him about Daniel. He’s come to take you away from here.”
Hope flared in Megan’s chest, so sharp and painful it was almost unbearable. She jerked her hands away, backing toward the window. “No. No, you don’t understand. He’ll kill them. Just like he killed Daniel. Just like he’s killed everyone who’s ever tried to help me.”
“They’re not stable boys, my lady. They’re soldiers. Fighting men. I also suspect he’s peerage, the way he talks… He has an air of authority about him. And they know what they’re facing.”
“They don’t!” Megan’s voice rose, and she fought to control it. “They don’t know him. They don’t understand that he’ll hunt them down, that he’ll make them suffer before he kills them.And you—” Her voice broke. “Mrs. Griffiths, if he finds out you helped them, if he even suspects?—”
“Then I’ll be gone before he returns.” The old woman’s voice was calm, resigned. “I’ve already made arrangements. My sister in Welshpool will take me in. I’ll leave tomorrow, saying I’ve fallen ill and need family care.”
“He’ll know. He’ll suspect.”
“Perhaps, but I’m sixty-five years old, my lady, with a cough that won’t quit and pain in my bones that makes every step an agony. If the Earl wants to chase down a sick old woman for leaving his service, let him try.” Mrs. Griffiths moved closer. “I’m dying anyway. The doctor in the village told me six months, maybe less. My lungs are failing.”
Megan felt tears spill down her cheeks. “You never said?—”
“Because you have enough burdens, but listen to me now.” The housekeeper took Megan’s face in her gnarled hands. “I want to see you escape before I die. I want to know that this one girl, this one lamb, I couldn’t save all those years ago, got free. Please, my lady. Please let them help you.”
“What if they’re lying?” Megan whispered. “What if they’re just like him? What if I’m escaping one monster only to fall into the hands of another?”
“Then you fight. You run again. You keep fighting until you find real freedom.” Mrs. Griffiths wiped Megan’s tears with her thumbs. “My lady, I looked into that man’s eyes. They were cold, yes, but not cruel. Angry, but not at you. He came here with purpose, and that purpose is saving you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that doing nothing guarantees nothing changes. The Earl will return from London. You’ll continue to suffer. And eventually—” The old woman’s voice caught. “Eventually, you’ll be too old for his tastes, and then what? You think he’ll let you go? Set you up somewhere comfortable?”
Megan had thought about this, late at night when sleepwouldn’t come. She’d guessed what happened to Penharrow’s playthings when they aged out of his interest. They disappeared. Just vanished, never heard from again.
