“I don’t want the deaths of Sir Howard and so many others on my conscience.” He pushed Paul aside. “You can stay here or come with me to the police station. Your choice.”
“They’ll lock me up too as their accomplice.”
“Not if you tell the truth.” Keith closed his fists in case Paul attacked him. The fact Mr. Sharpe had taught Keith how to box didn’t lack irony. Even if his chest tightened at the thought of denouncing his friends, he would do it if it meant saving innocent lives. “Why did you let me out?”
Paul kept pacing, releasing a sharp breath. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you why. You aren’t a murderer. You know what they’re doing is wrong.” He let his friend pace. “I know you have a good heart. You’ve taken care of me from the moment I came here. You aren’t like them. You don’t want to kill anyone. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you do nothing.”
Paul stopped, bending over as if his stomach hurt. He gazed up and nodded. “Let’s go to the police.”
Not even a walkuphill could soothe the odd restlessness in Violante’s chest. She’d promised not to go to Windy Ridge, and she’d obeyed. Papa had seemed rather worried. She didn’t want to challenge him. But the path she’d chosen wasn’t as exciting as she’d like. That wasn’t the only reason for her distress.
Vivid dreams had troubled her sleep after last night’s encounter with Keith. After their kiss. It hadn’t been a proper kiss. Not like one of those she read about in novels. Those were savage and deep and led to tumbles. He’d barely touched her lips with his. But heavens. It’d been the most wonderful sensation she’d ever experienced.
When she’d woken up, a palpable tension had thickened the air. She hadn’t found Keith anywhere, and even her papa had disappeared. No one knew where they were. The gymnasium was empty. Thus her lonely walk.
Maybe it was Keith who troubled her. Every time she thought about the moment she’d lain under him, feeling the delicious weight of his strong body against her, heat flooded her chest and face. He’d caressed her cheek with such sweetness her skin still tingled. She wouldn’t know why he’d left so abruptly though. Perhaps he’d changed his mind about kissing her, finding her lacking in some way.
No, she hadn’t imagined the desire in his gaze, as she hadn’t imagined her own. Or maybe the source of her distress was her papa. If Papa learnt about how close she and Keith had grown, he’d throw Keith out and send her to London.
She paused, a hand on her chest. What if that was the reason for Keith’s and Papa’s absence? No, Papa would have talked to her first before kicking Keith out.
Poppies and daisies nodded their pretty crowns under the breeze. Not a cloud obscured the sky. It was a perfect spring day, but a nagging feeling bit the back of her head. That would be the only instance when doing house chores would help her feel better. If she kept herself busy with pulling the weeds in the cabbage patch or grooming the horses, her anxiety would go away. Although she couldn’t deny that Papa disappearing without a word and Keith vanishing as well worried her.
The sense of urgency growing within her didn’t make sense until a commotion attracted her attention.
Many horses and carts approached the manor at breakneck speed. From the top of the hill where the trees didn’t grow, she could see blue-uniformed men spreading through the grounds, holding rifles. The armed police. What was happening?
Some of the police officers rushed inside the manor. Others ran towards the stables. Their rifles glinted in the sunlight. She ran down the hill, losing sight of the manor as she rushed onto the flat land where the trees grew and blocked her view. The path seemed to never end. It took her too long.
She arrived at the manor breathless. The front door had been left open, and the marks of boots soiled the carpet. Pieces of broken vases lay scattered.
“Papa?” She searched around. The entry hall was empty, and an eerie silence lingered. The police must have searched for something and left, not caring about having destroyed doors and vases.
She rushed up the stairs to her father’s study. “Papa, what hap—” She gasped.
Crouched in front of the open strongbox, Paul was emptying it. Judging by the way the door of the strongbox was contorted and dented, it’d been forced. Paul filled his satchel and pockets with banknotes, gold necklaces, coins, and rings. He froze upon seeing her, his hand grabbing a fistful of guineas.
She was so shocked she forgot about the police. “What are you doing?”
He stood up and closed the satchel. His arrogant expression wasn’t that of a thief caught red-handed. “I can’t lose everything because of your father.”
“What are you talking about? You’re a thief.” She ran around the large oakwood desk to shove him away from the strongbox.
He let her do it without opposing any resistance, but the clenching of his jaw belied his anger. “If you have any sense, you’ll grab some money and leave before the police confiscate everything and lock you up. I’m not going to prison for your family.” He snatched her mother’s star-shaped pendant and stashed it in his pocket.
“Give me that. It’s my mother’s.”
“She’s gone.”
She put her hands on his chest and shoved him again. “Why would the police confiscate everything? And give me that satchel.” She tried to snatch the satchel, but he was too tall and strong for her.
He blocked her at every move. “I need this. I must leave this place with my mother immediately.”
The more he blocked her, the more frustrated she grew.
He went to leave, but she yanked his arm. “Answer me. You owe me.”
