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‘Damn—I mean, oh, dear.’ He looked up at the sky, just in time for a large drop of freezing cold water to fall into his face. Only it wasn’t quite rain—or snow either. It was sludge. Thick, wet, thoroughly drenching sludge that made it downright impossible for them to stay where they were. There weren’t any leaves and nowhere near enough branches on the tree to provide shelter.
‘We need to get back to the house.’
‘But we’ll get soaked!’ Peter protested. ‘Maybe we should wait here for somebody to find us.’
‘Not in this weather.’
‘We could shout for help.’
Sebastian looked around, but there was no one in sight to hear them. No doubt David was already looking for his son, but the Feversham estate was big enough that it could be hours before anyone came this way. Besides, the clouds in the distance looked even more threatening than the ones above them now. The last thing they wanted was to be huddled beneath a tree in a lightning storm.
‘No, we need to move.’ He held his hands out and they pulled each other up to their feet with an effort.
‘Ow.’ Peter hopped a few times on his good foot.
‘It’ll be all right.’ Sebastian crouched down, steeling himself for a fresh burst of pain. ‘Climb on to my back. Imagine I’m a mast.’
‘But you’re hurt.’
‘Only a little. We’ll manage.’
He clamped his teeth together as Peter clambered on to his back and then staggered forward, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to ignore the sound of rolling thunder in the distance. It wasn’t elegant and the pain was excruciating, but at least it was progress, albeit of the infinitely slow kind. If they followed the path around the lake, then it would take them back to the main lawn...provided his ribs could make it that far.
‘Uncle Sebastian?’ Peter sounded frightened.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What did I just tell you?’ He twisted his head, managing to grin over his shoulder. ‘Sometimes we just need to forgive. Now come on, cadet, we can do this.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bother, Henrietta thought. Bother and fiddlesticks and... She screwed up her face and let loose several of the choicest nautical phrases Sebastian had taught her—or said in close proximity to her anyway, usually under his breath. There hadn’t been any deliberate teaching, but she had a good memory, especially when it came to such colourful metaphors. Under normal circumstances, she would never have dreamed of repeating any of them, but in this particular instance, the words made her feel better.
‘Oh!’ Mrs Fortini looked startled as she passed her in the hallway. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. I’m just going for a lie down.’ Henrietta hurried past, attempting a smile, though she was afraid the effort made her look as though she had some kind of digestive problem.
‘Of course. Are the boys still out walking?’
‘I think so.’ She nodded, though in all honesty she wasn’t sure. She’d changed her mind about accompanying David and her nephews into the woods, stomping about the herb garden for half an hour by herself instead.
She ran up the staircase, into her room, and flung herself down on the bed. The fire was lit, but she still couldn’t stop from shivering, as if the cold were coming from inside her. Which made sense since her argument with Sebastian had left her feeling as if a part of her had frozen. She’d told him to leave, to go back to sea, to go anywhere he wanted.
She folded an arm over her face, trying to blot out what had happened, but it was impossible. Her mind was a raging whirlwind of misery and self-recrimination and her chest felt tight, as if her heart were truly breaking. That was when she knew how stupid she’d been, spinning daydreams. She’d really thought they’d been more than friends, that he cared about her, that he might even love her, but he hadn’t. His motives for being with her might have been more honourable than most other men’s, but in the end they’d had nothing to do with the real her. Anything else he’d said had only been what she’d wanted to hear.
After what might have been ten minutes or an hour, she got up and went to the window. The weather was abysmal now, the pale grey of the morning replaced by a dark and threatening shade of lead. There were no gaps in the clouds any more, only one single dark mass for as far as she could see, blocking out the sun like a vast cloak across the sky. It was beautiful in a dramatic kind of way, the kind of scene she might have enjoyed watching with Sebastian, with her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist, stroking her hip... She touched the ring on her finger, a lump rising in her throat at the realisation they would never stand that way again.
She swallowed and turned away from the window. David and the boys had probably already gone back to the nursery, which meant she ought to go up and tell them to start gathering their things. She wanted to begin packing right away. If she was only Sebastian’s wife in name, then she had no right to stay at Feversham any longer. Whatever the weather, they needed to leave.
She started towards the door at the sound of a knock, surprised when it opened before she could reach it.
‘Is Peter here?’ David didn’t pause to exchange greetings.
‘No. I thought he was with you.’
‘He was, but he ran away!’
