Page 38 of Return to Wildsyde

“I know that,” he replied hastily. “Only, this is supposed to be a safe haven, a place where you need not worry and now—”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling wretched. Some saviours they were if their own problems got brought down upon women they’d tried to help.

“No life is entirely free of worries and you, and the other gentlemen are the only ones who troubled to help us in our time of need. If you are in difficulty now, you ought to count on us too,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

Larkin smiled, touched, even though he did not have the least intention of involving the women. Far from it.

“I only came to put you on your guard. I thought of writing, but I didn’t want you to worry, and a letter seemed too impersonal. Just make sure you lock up, keep your eye out for strangers, and don’t let anyone in unless you are entirely certain of them,” he said carefully, treading a line between making them see the danger and frightening them. “I don’t believe anyone knows of our connection to this place, but I cannot be certain of that. We would never forgive ourselves if anything happened to you and we’d done nothing to stop it. So, I’m afraid Leo is arranging for a couple of men to keep guard at night.”

“Oh, bleedin’ hell, we don’t need that,” George said at once. He had known she would, which was why he’d been going to tackle her first. “I can keep watch. You know I’m a fine shot,” she added.

Larkin nodded, having seen evidence of this with his own eyes. “I do know it, George,” he said. “But we want to be certain. You won’t see the men, they won’t bother you at all. Leo is vetting them himself and you can be certain they won’t bother you.”

“Tell Milly that,” Nan said, folding her arms.

Larkin winced, knowing Milly had good reason to hate men. She never showed her face when Larkin was there and knowing there were men on the ground would upset her, but he did not know how else to ensure they were safe. So far, only the founder members of the club and their property had been targeted, but he could not be certain whoever was doing this would not include Gillmont if they discovered it.

“I am sorry,” Larkin said. “Truly, I am, but our priority is keeping you and the children safe. That’s all. As soon as we have dealt with the problem, things will go back to normal.”

“And how long will that take?” George asked him.

Larkin shook his head. “That I can’t tell you, but I can tell you, we will deal with it,” he said, meaning it. The fire had been the last straw. They were hunting now, having decided they must write a list of all the people who might have taken it into their heads to do such a thing. He suspected the list would be rather longer than they anticipated, but they would figure it out, and when they discovered who was responsible, they would make them pay.

Chapter 13

My darling,

When the bloody hell are you coming home? The place is going to wrack and ruin without you and I’m losing my mind. Surely Lyall can manage his own affairs. I do not see what is so difficult about finding someone to chaperone Miss Fulbright. Especially if she is not the wicked creature you feared she might be, and by God, that is a relief. Have a care though Ruth, Lilith was beyond anything we had ever encountered before, so there’s still a chance she’s playing a long game.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Right Hon’ble Gordon Anderson, The Earl of Morven, to his wife, The Right Hon’ble Ruth Anderson, The Countess of Morven.

7th June 1845, Wildsyde Castle, The Highlands of Scotland.

Lyall scanned the countryside as he rode. The sun was setting now, not that you could see anything resembling sun, as the fine mist of rain obscured everything. He blinked, wiped his face, and brought his horse to a halt. Unease began to turn to panic as he drew closer to the ruined castle without so much as a glimpse of her. An odd sound reached him, then. It sounded… It sounded a little like singing. Terrible singing.

“Luella!” he shouted, standing in his stirrups to get a better look around. A sharp bark caught his ears, and he turned the horse, trotting on. “Murdoch?”

Lyall cantered on toward the place the bark had come from.

“We’re over here!”

“Thank the Lord!” he said fervently, swinging down from his saddle and hurrying over to Luella, who was huddled on the grass with Murdoch.

“Are ye hurt, lass?” he asked anxiously, looking her over for any signs of distress. “What happened? Why did ye nae come home?”

“No, I’m not hurt, but Murdoch is,” she said, and it was only now he noticed the way she sat close to the dog, her cloak wrapped tightly around him as she stroked his head. The dog she had been afraid of. He wondered what it had cost her to come to Murdoch’s aid but pushed the thought aside to examine later.

“What have ye done, ye daft beggar?” he asked the dog gently.

“A snare,” Luella said, her voice taut. “I’m so sorry. I tried to get it off, but he growled at me, and I was afraid he—”

“Aye, he might have bitten ye out of fear. Dinnae fret, Luella, ye did just fine. Thank ye kindly for staying with him,” he said, meaning it.

“That’s all right,” she replied, looking rather dazed. “I started to come for help, but he got upset and tried to follow me. I feared he’d hurt himself worse, so I stayed. I knew you’d come looking for him.”

Lyall paused at that, turning to look into her eyes. “I came to look for ye, nae Murdoch.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she blinked rather rapidly, but that might have been the rain. It was coming down harder now, and she must be frozen and wet through.