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“Adelaine!”
She spun to see her father and Islington marching toward her and began to feel deep terror. “Father, I can explain!”
Just as they came closer, a horse came barreling down the country manor’s drive. The rider was Tybalt and he looked manic. He vaulted off the horse and rushed to her father breathless.
“Your Lordship, please come quick,” his words were rushed. “The prisoner, the Scot, he’s escaped!”
Somehow, Adelaine’s reaction was quick. Just like her father, she spun to Tybalt and while her father cursed, she gasped. “What?”
The guard looked at her then back at the Earl. “He’s gone, My Lord, disappeared from the dungeon without a trace. I suspect there is a traitor within our midst.”
It took a lot inside her to not react to that as she was the traitor. But then, her father was one too. He had lied to her over and over again without any twinge of guilt. Caelan was innocent of the crime her father swore he had committed. Who was the real traitor here? The report in her father’s secret drawer was enough proof.
“Father?” she asked nervously.
“We’re going home now,” the Earl said. “Islington, I’ll send for you and we’ll sort this other mess out. Adelaine.”
She nearly cringed at her father’s tone but stood her ground. If he did find out she was the one who had set Caelan free, she’d weather it out. The worst he could do was send her to a nunnery for punishment. She was quiet as the carriage was sent for and they boarded.
Adelaine had her eyes trained out into the dark night as they raced back home. She could feel her father’s eyes digging into her skin and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up in anxiety. It was bad when he vented his anger, but it was worse when her father was silent. She never knew what he was going to do when he was like this.
“When we get home, you will be in your room until I call for you, understand?” Harold ordered. “Do you understand me, Adelaine?”
“But Father—”
“No buts,” he cut her off. “And we will discuss this situation with Islington after I decide what to do with this mongrel dog Scot.”
She bit her lip as her reaction was to defend Caelan. It would not bode well for her to be taking up for a man, especially one who was supposed to be the enemy. She could feel that her father was hell-bent on not only recapturing Caelan but putting him on the execution block the moment he got his hands on him.
“Yes, Father,” she said.
The dark trees lining the road to the Daffield estate flew past in a blur. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. Caelan had made it. He had escaped. Breathing out softly, she reassured herself. I did the right thing setting him free. I did the right thing…I did the right thing. God will judge me for betraying my father but…I did the right thing. Caelan did not deserve to die.
She kept quiet until the carriage came into the estate’s drive and up to the mansion, which was a black mass in the darkness. The faint flickers of light in the upper chambers made her imagine the manor was a beast blinking. They came to the front door and the moment the wheels stopped, the front door opened and a footman, armed with a lamp exited the manor.
“Welcome My Lord and My Lady.” He opened the door and helped Adelaine out. Her father stepped out without aid. He straightened his jacket as they entered the room.
“Your room, Adelaine,” he ordered while he stalked toward his office.
There was nothing she could do, so with a heavy mass of trepidation in her stomach, she went to her room. Martha was asleep in a chair and was jolted awake when Adelaine came closer.
“My Lady,” she said in a frenzy. “They know that Mister McLagen is—”
“I know, Martha,” Adelaine replied. “I know and I am…” she slumped to a chair. Worriedly, her eyes went to the keep and said, “I am so…afraid.”
Martha had her hand on her shoulder, “It will be fine, My Lady.”
Weakly, Adelaine allowed Martha to help her undress and then, when she was in her nightgown and had her sleep cap on, she slipped under the thick covers on the bed and rested her head wearily on the pillow. Staring put in the direction of the keep, she said, “Martha…”
“Hmm?” her maid answered while she was stoking the fire into a warm blaze.
“Islington asked me to marry him tonight,” Adelaine said tiredly and did not even react to the surprised gasp. “I refused him because…I think I’m in love with Caelan.”
Speaking the words out loud made her feel strange, but then the strangeness disappeared and she felt light. The heaviness of that burden was lifted by her frank word.
“Honestly, My Lady,” Martha said kindly as she sat the poker into its place. “I suspected that.”
Twisted her head, Adelaine looked at her friend, “Truly?”
