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Wells. Maybe she'd awaken Wells.
Who would do—what? Comfort her, just as Stacie would. But nothing more. He'd have no better idea than she how to handle this intrusion. And he was nearly as exhausted as Stacie.
Which left no one to turn to.
No one except Royce.
His name sprang to mind, eliciting a surge of relief so acute, Breanna sagged against the wall. Royce. He was here. He'd predicted this very thing might occur. He'd know what to do.
With that thought, she gathered up her skirts, nearly running down the hall, veering around the corner to the wing that housed his chambers. Unlike the other guests, Royce hadn't been assigned to the guest wing. He'd suggested Wells put him and Hibbert in the main section of the house, just in case events happened that warranted their attention—attention he'd want to provide without alerting the other guests.
Thank heavens he'd thought of that.
Reaching the door of his room, Breanna knocked. Please, she prayed. Let him be in there. Let him be awake, or at least hear my knock and wake up. Please.
As if in answer to her prayers, a muffled voice called out, “Yes?”
“Royce ... it's Breanna.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, fighting for some measure of composure. “I need to see you. Now. It's urgent.”
“I'll be right there.” There was nothing muffled about his tone now. He sounded awake and completely alert.
Breanna heard rustling sounds, an indication that Royce was donning his clothes. Although, at the moment, she wouldn't care if he walked out in his nightshirt. As long as he walked out.
As if on cue, the bolt turned, and the door swung open.
Royce stared at her intensely, his dark hair tousled his shirt half-buttoned, tucked haphazardly into his breeches. “What's wrong?” he demanded, his gaze tightening with concern as he took in her ashen expression and trembling hands.
“My room,” she said, amazed that her voice could sound so calm when her insides were twisting. “He was there. Sometime tonight. While I was at the ball. He left me some... things. I couldn't bear touching them. I couldn't even bear staying in the room, knowing he'd been there. I didn't know what to do, who to tell. So I came here.”
“You did the right thing.” Royce retreated into his chamber, opened his nightstand, and yanked out a pistol. “Then Anastasia doesn't know?”
Mutely, Breanna shook her head. “I didn't want to frighten her. I came straight to you.”
“Good.” Royce returned to her side, silently assessing her emotional state. “Breanna, are you all right?”
“Yes. I'm fine.”
Without thinking, he caught her shoulders, tugged her against him. “You don't have to be so bloody strong,” he muttered, brushing his lips through her hair. “You're afraid. You have reason to be.”
She swallowed, fighting the urge to sink into his strength, fighting the more unnerving urge to cry.
She'd been taught since childhood never to fall apart in front of others. And she never did.
Why then, did she long to now?
“He won't hurt you,” Royce said in a low, hard tone. “I won't let him.”
Those simple words meant more to her than she could possibly explain. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Royce drew back, tilted up her chin so he could see her face. “Would you be able to go back to your room if I went with you? I need to see what he left. I also need to look over the room, just in case he left any clues. A nd you're the only one who can tell me if something looks different in any way—added, moved, or touched.”
Slowly, Breanna sucked in her breath, then nodded. “Yes. If that's what I need to do, I can do it.”
A n odd emotion glinted in Royce's eyes—something akin to admiration and a touch of amazement. “Good. Let's go.” He paused, his knuckles drifting lightly over her cheek. “I'll be right beside you. You won't be alone.”
A nother nod, this one shaky. “I'll remember that.”
He led the way, his pistol clutched by his side, Breanna right behind him. She could feel her insides clench tighter and tighter as they neared her bedchamber. She slowed, longed to stop. But she refused to give in to the impulse. Royce was right. This inspection was essential.
