Page 18 of One Last Whisper

I glance up at the window. Lady Cordelia isn’t there anymore. I look back at Lord Edmund. “Nothing, my Lord. I simply lost my head in the clouds for a moment.”

“Hmm.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, and I feel the ice from his gaze fill me, freezing me to the spot. He could kill me right now, and I would stand motionless until the deed was done.

“My wife’s health is poor,” he said. “She has a nervous affliction. It’s common in sensitive, high-born ladies.”

I swallow and suggest, “Perhaps some rest would do her well, my lord.” I’m not sure what else to say.

“She gets rest enough,” he replied. “And I am quite capable of caring for her.”

“Yes, my lord,” I say quickly. “Of course.”

“I’ll thank you to mind your business when it comes to her.”

“I… I had no intention of involving myself in your affairs, Lord Edmund.”

“Hmm.”

There is silence once more between us. My palms are sweaty, and my knees are beginning to shake. I wish desperately that Sean were in England right now. I would feel much safer knowing he could get to me within a few minutes if I needed him.

But he’s not hear, and it doesn’t matter what I wish. I am alone in this house, and as frightened as I am, I haveeveryintention of involving myself in Lord Edmund’s affairs, no matter what the consequences to me. I am compelled to involve myself.

“I’m sure the maidservants have shared their superstitions with you regarding this house,” he continues. “Such legends occur in every old castle in Britain.”

“I’m sure they do, my lord.”

“You are, of course, too sensible to place any stock in them.”

“Of course, lord Edmund.”

“Hmm.” He bows stiffly. “Good day, Miss Wilcox.”

When he turns his eyes away from me, it’s like a hand releases my heart. I feel a wave of relief, but unfortunately forme, that relief brings courage with it. He passes me on his way to the garage, and I turn and call after him, “Lord Edmund?”

He stops, hesitating a moment before turning around. “Yes?”

“I’m concerned about Sarah. She hasn’t called yet. I worry that something may have happened to her. I’m sure her family is worried sick.”

I pay careful attention to his reaction as I say this. His reaction tells me nothing, mostly because he doesn’t react. His expression, bearing and tone of voice remain exactly as before when he replies, “I am looking into her whereabouts as we speak. You needn’t burden yourself with that.”

I bow. “Of course, my lord. Thank you.”

He doesn’t reply. He only turns and continues to the garage. I watch him walk and remain there watching until I see his car—a sedan that is far more luxurious and expensive than the minivan I drive earlier—pull onto the street and accelerate south.

I walk inside, feeling as though the shadow of the angel of death has just passed over me. He is heading south to Tarly. I wonder what he intends there? Will he visit the market? Will he ask Gavin if I was there and what I asked about?

I know this is paranoid, but Lord Edmund’s behavior has done little to convince me that the accusations against him are groundless. And then there’s poor Lady Cordelia. I understand a little better now the redness in her eyes and the exhaustion in her shoulders.

“Are you all right, Mary? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I look up to see Theresa frowning at me with concern. I realize that I’ve been standing in the foyer for several minutes, lost in my own thoughts. I smile at her and say, “I’m all right. I just allowed my mind to run away with itself for a moment.” I hand her the bag of cleaning supplies.

Then I realize something important. “Where’s Oliver? Did he not go out with the Lady Cordelia earlier?”

“He did. They returned early because the poor lad was coughing too much to enjoy himself. I made him a warm broth and some chamomile tea. He’s in his room resting now.”

I sigh with relief, but also with heartache. I remember that his own mother died shortly after he was born. I don’t like to think that Lord Edmund would harm his own sister, but if he did, would he stop there?

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