Page 46 of Black Widow

Blast. “Shh. Everything is fine. I—I had to go outside,” he said in amurmur.

“Why?” Amelia muttered, her eyes driftingclosed.

“It was nothing,” he murmured absently, his thoughts on the nightmarish vision he’dseen.

It had to be a trick of some kind.“I thought I saw something is all,” he said, wrapping one arm around herprotectively.

Amelia murmured something he couldn’t catch, but then her voice strengthened and she raised her head. “Was it thedemon?”

He watched her for a long moment. “What demon?” he asked, his throattight.

She yawned and put her head back down on the pillow. He shook her. “Amelia, whatdemon?”

“The one that killedMartin.”

Chapter 18

Gideon paced outside impatiently.He’d risen at dawn and dressed quickly, determined to examine the area around the house as soon as he could. A weighty resoluteness settled in his breast when he saw the traces of giant footprints under thetrees.

Forcing himself to focus, Gideon followed the prints until they faded some hundred yards from the cottage. They ended well before the ruin of the main house, but after checking the lower floors of the burned building, he was certain last night’s visitor had been there,too.

He clenched his jaw, taking a steadying breath before heading back to the cottage. If what Amelia had said last night was true, then someone—or something—had been responsible for his cousin’s death. And it was followingher.

A demon. Gideon didn’t believe in such things, but that was what Amelia had said while half-asleep. After what he’d seen last night, he didn’t question her choice of words—not that she’d elaborated. Despite his poking and prodding, Amelia had slipped back into slumber without further explanation. He’d decided the discussion could wait until the light ofday.

It was difficult to credit, but the threat to Amelia had taken an occult turn. Or at least it was what someone wanted him tobelieve.

Despite the strain and distance in their relationship, Sir Clarence would not have harmed Martin. Though he had been frustrated with his son at times, Gideon knew from past conversations that his overbearing relative had lovedMartin.

Clarence’s feelings for Amelia were another story. Nevertheless, connecting Sir Clarence to these events didn’t wash, not if last night’s visitor had something to do with Martin’sdeath.

Gideon tracked the position of the sun in the sky, wondering if it was too early to wake Amelia. He needed to question her. She could no longer afford to keep any secrets from him. He couldn’t lether.

The sound of carriage wheels cut his rumination short. He reached for his pistol before he recognized the man peering out the vehicle’s window as it stopped a few dozen yards down thedrive.

Clarke stepped down and greeted him with a frown. “I received your note. What in the blazes happened here?’ he asked, gesturing to thehouse.

Gideon explained his suspicions about the cause of the fire tersely, thanking the impulse that led him to ask his friend to follow him. Clarke had arrived via the most expedient route, traveling on the mail coach and then hiring a carriage in a nearbytown.

“How badly is the viscount hurt?” Clarke asked after Gideon detailed theaccident.

“I’m not certain. But it’s fortunate you’re here. I’d appreciate if you could examine his injuries and make an assessment. We had a doctor look over him last night, but he was quite young and struck me as still wet behind theears.”

He hadn’t mentioned this observation to Amelia last night. There had been no reason to distress her further—and he’d known Clarke was on the way. His friend had medical training and had even sewn shut one of his knife wounds after a particularly eventful night inToulon.

Clarke nodded and dismissed the driver and postilion with a handsome tip, letting them take the hired chaise back to the posting inn. “I’ll look in on the patient straightaway, but perhaps you’d like to explain why you and the viscount are suddenly on good enough terms to tear across the country together? Not that I question the wisdom of the trip,” he added with a nod at the ruinedPalladian.

Gideon hesitated, weighing disclosing the truth about Worthing and Martin. It was the conflict of a moment. He trusted Clarke with his life—and Worthing’s. They had been keeping too many secrets as itwas.

Clarke was surprised, but not appalled to hear of Martin’s proclivities. He grew quiet and thoughtful before promising not to breathe a word of the truth to anyone. His only exclamation came when Gideon showed him the footprints and described what he saw, but he cut him short—they’d discuss the situation again once he’d spoken toAmelia.

He sent Clarke to wake Worthing and examine the viscount’s injury before going in search of the caretaker. Now that Clarke was here, they might need more provisions forbreakfast.

The old venerable was one step ahead of him. Gibson had sent messages to the local taproom and the nearest baker. An assortment of freshly baked breads and pies were on their way. Gideon was about to go and wake Amelia when she stumbled into the kitchen of her ownaccord.

Somehow, she’d managed to wash and dress in a fresh gown without the aid of a maid. Still blinking sleepily at him, she allowed him to usher her to the table without argument. He’d just informed her of Clarke’s arrival when his friend joined them in the kitchen and the caretaker retreated to check on thehorses.

Clarke greeted Amelia with a warm smile, and then took her hand in a sure sign something was wrong. He didn’t prevaricate, promptly sharing what was botheringhim.

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