She smiled at that, her blue eyes sparkling in the darkness, and he feigned a smile in return so as not to show his alarm. Other than Tristan, no one knew of her objectionable background. No one knew her as Marie. Indeed, she had insisted he introduce her as Anna Sinclair.
"Promise me you'll not leave the monastery without my knowledge," he continued, rubbing her upper arms as a way to soothe his tortured soul.
Promise me you'll never leave.
Shocked by the words penetrating his thoughts, he guided her away from the door.
"I promise," she murmured, stifling a yawn. "Now, where should we start?"
"Start?"
"Our search for the intruder."
He pondered her weary expression, stared at the dark shadows beneath her eyes. Only a fool would attempt to enter the building after being discovered. "Upstairs. We'll start with your room." Once secure, he would insist she lock the door behind her and get some sleep.
Thankfully, she did not question the flaws in his logic. But his conscience forced him to wake Andre and insist he rouse the other servants and make a thorough search of all the rooms downstairs.
As soon as they entered her room she rushed to the side table, picked up the brown leather Bible and gave a satisfied sigh as she hugged it to her chest.
"It holds some sentimental value, I assume?" He studied her as he tried to ignore the sweet smell of almonds that reminded him of the taste of her skin.
"It was a gift from my father." She offered him nothing more than that. Lifting the mattress she ran her hand underneath and removed a white stocking. "And this is to help me start a new life."
Her comment hit him hard. The image of her settled somewhere else, with a husband oblivious to her past, annoyed him.
He walked over to her as she removed the roll of paper which he quickly realised was a large bundle of notes. "You should have told me you had money hidden up here. I have a vault downstairs. I could keep it safe for you."
She fingered the crisp paper. "I'll consider it. It's not that I don't trust you. I've always found it quite reassuring to keep it close."
They were the words of a person seeking any opportunity to escape. They were the words of a person longing for freedom. "Is that wise considering recent events?"
She sighed. "I doubt the intruder would attempt to enter the building again. But if anything should happen to me, Marcus, I would like you to give this to Lord Danesfield, to assist him in helping my girls."
He shook his head. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Anna. I will make sure of it." Marcus nodded to the money in her hand. "I assume you know how much is there?"
"Of course. Six hundred and forty pounds."
"Six hundred pounds!" It must have taken her years to save. The dissipated lords of London were obviously generous with their gifts to their host.
She shrugged. "It must last me a lifetime. If I'm frugal, I should never need work again. If Victor had known of it, he would have killed me."
An icy chill ran down his spine.
She placed the notes on the bed and pulled another item out of her stocking. "I want you to sell this," she said handing him a delicate brooch. "I have no notion of its value, but they're real diamonds not paste. I want you to spend the money on farming the land. I want you to consider finding another way to make your living."
To say he was astounded by her generosity was an understatement. "I will keep it safe for you, Anna. But as I've already stated, nothing is going to happen to you."
"You misunderstand me. I am giving you the brooch, Marcus, regardless of what the future may hold. I ask you to consider what I have said, but ultimately the choice is yours."
Marcus stared at the pretty object in his palm, the solid lump in his throat forcing him to suck in a breath. No one had ever given him anything. Indeed, all he had, he'd earned from trading or bartering information. He had come to learn that everything had a price; nothing was ever given freely.
Until today.
"I can't take it."
She covered his fingers with her own, curling them over the glittering jewel. "Yes. You can. I want you to have it. The purpose of an heirloom is to enhance the life of the recipient, to serve as a memory of the person who left it behind. In giving me sanctuary here, you have enhanced my life, and I always repay my debts." She chuckled sweetly, the sound an obvious attempt to placate him.
He didn't need money. But it would be rude and ungrateful to refuse after such a heartfelt plea, and he sensed it was important to her. He would find a way to compensate her for the thoughtful gesture.