had an herbal bath going. Mrs. McKenna helped me strip off my ruined undergarments and ease into the hot water.
“Mrs. McKenna, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Enough of those formalities, little mouse. You nearly died tonight. Call me McKenna like everyone else does.”
The water quickly browned, but I didn’t care. I held my breath and slipped under, letting the water work its way through my hair, daring to imagine that it was bog-water instead of a rose-scented bath. What if I had died, tonight? It was Edward we were all so worried about, but the truth was, the world wasn’t a safe place. Any one of us could vanish from it at any moment.
I jerked upright, coughing out water. Once my head had cleared, I saw that McKenna had left. Elizabeth was in her place at the side of the tub, still in her stained traveling dress, while Valentina packed away the herbs she had brought for my bath.
Elizabeth reached out to pet my head.
“Silly girl. You must take better care of yourself. People will be relying on your judgment. You can’t take foolish risks like that if you’re to run this place one day.”
I twisted to look at her in surprise. Valentina, crouched down to pick up some of her fallen herbs, had paused as well. “What do you mean, run this place?” I asked.
Elizabeth glanced at Valentina hesitantly. There was regret on her face, as though she wished she could take back what she’d said. “Valentina, could you leave us a moment? Afterward, let’s talk, you and I.”
Valentina stared at Elizabeth, some silent exchange happening between them that I could not fathom the meaning of, and gathered the rest of the herbs and hurried from the room.
Once we were alone, Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Juliet, the professor and I intended to make you our heir.”
My hands nearly slipped on the wet side of the tub. “A ward, yes. But heir?”
“Yes. Heir to all of it. The manor. The grounds. Everything we have.”
A tin clattered to the floor outside the bathroom, followed by the sound of footsteps running away. Valentina had been listening in the hallway. I started to call after her but Elizabeth shook her head. “Don’t. I expect she’ll be quite upset. I shouldn’t have told you in front of her—I wasn’t thinking, and it was cruel of me. Before I left for London, Valentina and I had begun to discuss her taking over one day, if I didn’t find a suitable heir in the next few years. But then I discovered the professor had taken you in, and that we’re even distantly related.” She gave me a kind smile. “Valentina always knew there was a possibility of long-lost family showing up. She’ll be disappointed, but there will always be a place for her here, don’t fear.”
Valentina was the least of my worries. Heir to Ballentyne? It was enough to make my head spin. “But what about Hensley? He’s your own son; surely he should inherit it.”
A strange look crossed her face. “Hensley—yes. I should have realized you’d meet him. Unfortunately Hensley will never be suited to manage an estate of this size. He has a defect of the brain.”
“Oh, how awful. Is that why you didn’t tell us about him? Who …” I paused. “Who is the father?” It was hardly a polite question, but women like Elizabeth and me had never danced around propriety.
“An American novelist. I went overseas to visit family in eighty-nine and met him. The father doesn’t know, which is just as well.” She let out a sigh, running her fingers along the towel. “He wasn’t a very good novelist.”
It felt good to smile, after everything that had happened.
“Well,” she said. “It’s not every day one narrowly escapes death. Dry off, and give me a moment to speak with Valentina. Then we shall have a proper talk.”
WHEN I’D FINALLY SCRUBBED every inch of the bog from under my fingernails and between my toes, I found Elizabeth, Montgomery, and Lucy in the second floor library, seated around the fireplace, chatting in low voices. There was no sign of Valentina—I imagined she was in her room, trying to get over the sting of losing the inheritance. Hensley sat by Elizabeth’s feet. I was surprised he was still awake since it had to be past midnight, but he hadn’t seen his mother in months and must miss her terribly. It made me even more curious about his brain defect, and if it had to do with his miscolored eye. Elizabeth stroked his hair absently. In turn, he stroked the fur of his pet rat.
My robe rustled as I entered, and Elizabeth gave her crooked smile. “Feeling better?”
“Yes—well, I think so.” I glanced toward Hensley, not sure such young ears should overhear talk of near death and police chases and murder, but he played with his rat silently, ignoring us. “I’m much more worried about what’s on that paper you’re trying to keep hidden in your coat.”
Lucy and Montgomery sat straighter. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and took out the paper. “You’re nothing if not observant, Juliet. I suppose you’d have found out sooner or later.” The paper was crumpled and worn, too thick for a letter and the wrong shape. As she unfolded it with her elegant hands, my heart shot to my throat. I knew that lettering across the top.
“A special memorandum poster,” she said regretfully. “The kind advertising rewards for escaped criminals and fugitives. In this case, I am dearly sorry to say, it’s for you. The police haven’t given up the search.”
She handed me the paper, which I scanned in one glance. Lucy jumped up to read over my shoulder. My own face looked back at me, an inky portrait done by a police artist who had never seen me. They’d captured my eyes but the jaw was too wide, the brow too heavy, making me look like a degenerate.
I started to feel light-headed. Montgomery took the poster from me. “One thousand pound reward,” he read, “for information leading to the capture of Juliet Moreau of London, wanted for murder. Age: Seventeen. Last known residence: Dumbarton Oaks …”
The rest of his words faded as my head started throbbing. Lucy put her hands on my shoulders, shaking me back into reason, but it was all I could do to keep breathing.
“This is impossible,” Montgomery said, his voice on edge. “They’ve no way to prove Juliet was responsible for those deaths.”
Even though I was.
Lucy had gone white. “It was my father, wasn’t it? He told the police.”
“No, it wasn’t him.” I answered in a rush, relieved at least to put her worries to rest. I took out the article and handed it to her. “I found this newspaper article in Quick. He denounces his role in the King’s Club and talks about how sad he is you disappeared. He doesn’t blame us for what happened, at least not publicly.”
Lucy clutched at the newspaper. “He’s worried about me?” She sank into the chair, poring over every word of the article.
Elizabeth sighed. “Inspector Newcastle was the one who told the police, I’m afraid. He was taken to the hospital with fatal burns. He died within hours, but not before he recounted what had happened. You killed some very important men, Juliet. Someone associated with them is scouring the country for you, but it doesn’t matter. They won’t find you as long as you stay hidden here. The police don’t know the location of this manor, and don’t even know it’s in my family. It’s under the name
