“Get out of here. Go before it’s too late.” Her muttered ramblings were barely coherent. “Fire … fire at the … the manor.”
“Rose.” Patting her hand helped as she opened her eyes once and then squeezed them shut. “You’re safe. You’re at Everleigh. We’re waiting for Dr Taylor.”
Her eyes flickered, and she opened them again. Thin cornflower-blue irises rimmed dilated pupils. She stared through him as if watching a terrifying scene unfold.
“Wake up, Rose.” With a gentle hand, he stroked her brow.
At the touch of his fingers, she sucked in a ragged breath. “Christian?” She scanned the room, her gaze coming to settle on him. A weak smile touched her lips. “I’m at Everleigh. Thank heavens.” Her breathing settled, and she exhaled slowly.
“I think the horrendous events of the day have taken their toll.” No wonder every newcomer stayed no more than a week. “Dr Taylor will be along presently. Mrs Hibbet fears you’ve contracted the fever.”
She glanced at the tiny brown bottle on her night stand. “No. If anything, I feel cold to my bones.”
“No doubt the dip in the lake, coupled with the cold night air, has given you a chill. A nip of brandy will work wonders if you’re able to stomach it.”
Rose nodded. “I need something to settle my nerves, although I’m not sure that will help the pounding in my head.”
A light knock on the door brought Mrs Hibbet. His housekeeper hovered at the threshold. “Can you spare a moment, my lord?”
From her grave expression, it was evident she had important news to impart. God, he hoped the woman at The Talbot Inn hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. He turned to Rose. “I’ll be back in a moment with a glass of brandy.”
Once out in the hall, Mrs Hibbet pulled the door closed. “I sent Dawkins to the inn to fetch Dr Taylor,” she whispered. “He said someone’s been asking after Rose.”
Christian jerked his head back. “Someone? Who? What did they say?” Was it that lunatic from the woods? If so, he’d get more than a punch on the jaw.
“Well, the fellow never used her name, but he was looking for a slender woman with golden hair. A pretty thing, he said.” Mrs Hibbet glanced at the closed door. “He said she’s been missing from the area for a few days.”
“Was it one of the staff from Morton Manor?” The earl must have sent a man out looking for the missing maid. Or was Rose’s dissolute brother in need of funds and somehow knew she’d taken work with a wealthy lord?
“No, he’d not come from the manor. But Dawkins said the fellow knew his way around a stable.”
“I trust Dawkins said nothing about Rose.”
“No, my lord. Dawkins knows not to speak to strangers about household business.”
There was one saving grace in this whole debacle. His staff were loyal to a fault. “Leave it with me. If the man should call again, direct him to the house.”
Perhaps the earl knew Rose had arrived on the mail coach, had heard talk of the mysterious deaths in the woods and feared for his servant. While people knew Miss Stoneway was a wealthy orphan driven insane by the death of her parents, a few feared foul play.
By rights, he should speak to Lord Stanton and explain the situation. But what was the point? After the fire, the earl had no use for a maid. No doubt his only thoughts were for the health and happiness of his mistress.
“Will you remain here, my lord?”
“For the time being.”
“What shall I do when the doctor arrives?”
“Send for me at once.”
Mrs Hibbet nodded and moved towards the stairs.
“Could you have a decanter of brandy and two glasses sent up to Rose’s room?” They both needed a drink. His day had been just as taxing. God damn. If only Jacob had told him about the letters. Then he might have understood the reason behind his son’s malicious antics.
Everyone leaves us?
Those words had blown a hole clean through his heart. Yes, Cassandra always left, didn’t give a damn about anyone but herself. But the governesses left because Jacob drove them away. A saint would struggle to forgive some of the terrible things the boy had done.
And yet Rose had taken it all in her stride. Not once had she blamed his son. Never had he met a woman with such a kind heart. Indeed, her inner beauty enhanced her appeal. Appeal was a mild word for what he felt. By God, he couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. She stirred something in him, something deep