Page 110 of Evil Hearts

So, London became home.

Home in so many ways, ways I can’t put a name to, and don’t fully understand. It’s why, when my employers unexpectedly told me they were moving back to New York so the mister couldaid his brotherwith the shipping business… That’s when the melancholia set in.

I don’t want to leave the city, but I don’t want to leave Reggie either, and my need to stay with him has only grown to rather urgent levels over the last few weeks. Ever since Mr. Hughes’s behavior took a turn for the strange and unusual.

With a sigh, I grab the next trunk and go back to packing.

Just the essentialsMr. Hughes had said.

Pack only what we absolutely needed, what could be carried by the few staff he’s bringing with us, and everything else would be shipped or repurchased once we arrived in New York.

Which was odd, considering the fact that my employers both seem to be very fixated on keeping up appearances, therefore have some of the finest clothing and furniture money can buy.

Money I’m afraid they don’t really have, so why leave most of it behind?

Not that it’s any of my business.

Outside of overseeing the staff and caring for Reggie, I have no business with the Hughes or their finances at all, but I may have done a little snooping one afternoon, and now know that the mister has a lot of debt. Almost fifteen thousand pounds of it, and I’m worried that has something, if not everything, to do with his strange behavior, and the sudden need to leave the country.

The man is definitely up to something, that I know for sure.

Long nights at work.

Secretive meetings with mysterious investors.

Mr. Hughes is edgy, jumpy almost, and he’s quick to anger over every little thing that happens at home.

He doesn’t like when Reggie fusses, claiming thenoisegives him headaches then he’ll seclude himself in his office untilit’s asleep. He’s become extremely terse with the missus, annoyed when she questions him, always giving her clipped or short answers. I don’t think I’ve seen them share a pleasant interaction in months, and Mrs. Hughes will be having her heat soon, which presents an entirely separate set of issues for them both.

If I didn’t know that they stopped sharing any kind of unplanned, voluntary intimacy after their son was born, and Mrs. Hughes was glad for it—she gets a little chatty when she indulges in her after dinner drinks—I’d be convinced her husband was stepping out on her, and they were having marital issues. But the missus has gone into great detail over all the ways he’s disappointed her in that regard, as well as how her husband couldn’t get himself a mistress because of it, so I doubt that’s it.

After taking a peek at his ledgers, I’m more certain now than ever that it’s related to bad business, and even worse choices.

Something that will affect all of us when it comes down to it.

I smooth my hands over the neat stacks of baby clothes then cover them with the linen before closing the second trunk.

Wait.

I open it again and glance around the room, my eyes landing on the rocking chair where Reggie’s favorite toy sits. It’s a rag doll fashioned to look like a bear, one that I made for him from scraps of fabric I collected from the sewing room.

“We can’t leave without Bear now, can we, sweet boy?” After crossing the small room, I retrieve the well-loved item with asmile on my face. “Bear has to come with us or else…” I frown when I realize Reggie has stopped cooing.

My eyes shift to the cradle, the baby silent and unmoving, and when I take a step toward him, I can see his bright blue gaze now fixed on the partially open bedroom door. My own follows as I clutch the bear to my chest, my feet carrying me slowly toward the hall, and as soon as I peer out toward the banister, a voice booms from downstairs, and I jump.

“It’s time, Hughes.”

I swallow thickly as I creep into the hall, stopping just shy of the railing so I don’t draw any attention to myself.

“I… Now see here, Pelifer, I told you I’d repay my debt so long as you agreed—”

“Agreed?” The unfamiliar voice chuckles. “So long asIagreed toyourterms? Oh, I think not, Reginald.”

Slowly, I inch closer to the staircase as Mr. Hughes clears his throat. “If you could just give me, allow me a little more time… I’ve eight thousand pounds on hand right now, that’s more than half of what I owe. I’ll run up to my office and—”

“Enough!” I jump as the unknown man shouts, “Enough of your games, enough of your lies.”

He was lying.

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