“She’s in the drawing room of her mother’s suite. There, on the end. Her windows overlook the chapel on this side and the river and forest on the other.” Jeffreys stepped away from the chapel wall and fell into step beside Adam. “She moved there last spring. After the verdicts against Squire Fletcher’s cottagers, she found her view over his fields troubling.”
“I see,” Adam replied, not liking the turn in the conversation.
“I hope so, sir. She also preferred rooms less . . . accessible to guests.” Jeffreys’s tone was flat and emotionless.
“A wise decision.” Adam understood the butler’s message.
“It’s been a difficult year for her ladyship. In fact, I’ve wished many times that I’d killed you and fed your body to the pigs when I had the chance.”
Adam studied the terrain, watching for wandering pigs. “Does Lady Emmeline share your wishes?”
“I cannot say, sir.” Jeffreys unlocked a door leading into a narrow stairway. The squeak of the hinge reminded Adam of the squeal of a piglet. “I merely thought you should know my position, should, by chance, you do anything to harm her.”
“I never intended to harm her.” Adam paused, wondering how much Jeffreys knew. “I was merely . . . fulfilling an obligation.”
“Yes, sir, I imagine so.” The long-legged butler took the stairs two at a time. “But you also have an obligation to Lady Emmeline. I hope you fulfill it with as much energy. If not, I must warn you . . .”
“I know: the pigs.” Adam shook his head. He should have expected Emmeline to confide in Jeffreys.
“Exactly, sir.” Jeffreys unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, then pointed Adam to the end of the hall. “I will return after you speak with Lady Emmeline.”
“Jeffreys, one question more. The other servants . . . How many are aware of the events of last year?”
“Well-fed pigs yield ample bacon, and the estate has enjoyed a surplus of it this year.” Jeffreys disappeared down the stairs.
Adam had always considered Jeffreys’s humor a bit wry, even dark, and he was certain the estate’s bacon surplus did not result from servants murdered and fed to the pigs to preserve Emmeline’s secrets. Even so, he understood Jeffreys’s message: Lady Emmeline was loved, and Adam had threatened her sense of security and even her happiness.
It was much the same as Emmeline’s note. However clever, she hadn’t offered him any olive branch. Instead, she’d used humor to set the limits of their engagement: her righteous anger against his guilt. It wasn’t the best start to a second chance, if such a chance was even possible. Besides, how much penance was he willing to pay for another heartache?
It might be—he acknowledged—that no matter what he did, none of their possible futures included affection, much less love. Too much had passed between them. Too much trust had been lost before it had fully taken root. It would not be easy to start anew.
No, Jeffreys was right to frame it in terms of an obligation. Adam had deceived Em before, and he had a duty to put that right, whatever the outcome.
* * *
She heard the doorknob turn softly and composed her face. Since Colin’s proposal, she’d cultivated a look of benign joy: a slight, thoughtful smile that barely upturned the corners of her mouth. The expression convinced the staff and her friends that she welcomed her coming marriage.
But it wasn’t Jeffreys or one of the staff.
It was Adam. He’d come.
For the first time in months, she felt as if she could breathe. Her heart leapt up at the sight of him, all lean muscle and dark, mischievous eyes. The sensation reminded her of how much she had loved him—before the weight of his deceptions had forced them apart. She tamped the emotion down.
He shut the door silently behind him. Even with Jeffreys’s help, she knew Adam hadn’t been seen. She knew all too well how easily he could slip into and out of rooms without drawing the slightest notice. Bess raised her head, then, seeing Adam, set it down again, beating her tail against the floor in greeting.
“A scoundrel, am I?” His voice, supple like red wine, taunted her, teasing.
She shrugged. “I haven’t time to debate the legality of your actions. I simply—”
“Need my help.” He bent down to scratch Bess’s ears. Em couldn’t see his face.
“Yes. Regrettably.” She looked at the valise Jeffreys had brought her, and Adam followed her glance. “I can’t do what I need to without your aid.”
“You wish to run away.” He took a seat in the most comfortably overstuffed of her chairs and pulled her necklace out of his pocket. He ran the silver chain across his fingers, straightening it out. The unicorn dangled, catching the light. He didn’t appear too willing to help, and the thought made her anxious.
“I would like to leave the estate—quietly—and in such a way that no one can trace my movements.” She wanted to snatch the delicate necklace from his hand, but held herself back. After all, she’d sent the token to call him to her.
“By no one you mean both your fiancé and his brother’s agents.” Transferring the necklace to his opposite hand, he opened his watch.
“Yes.” She looked from the necklace to her valise.
“You do remember him—your fiancé? The man who shortly will be standing before the whole community, your mutual friends, and all the bon ton, waiting to see his bride walk toward him.” He left his watch open on the table beside him. “Are you certain you wish to desert him? The man you chose over me?”
She should have expected he wouldn’t make it easy. “Yes. I mean no. I broke it off with you months before my engagement. Besides, you made it clear that marriage wasn’t part of our game.”
Bess sat up, watching the pair.
“You still chose him.” He held the necklace gently between his fingers.
“And now I’m choosing you.” She watched the necklace, her frustration threatening to overflow. She forced herself to breathe and start again in a more moderate tone. “We haven’t time to debate old wounds. If you will help me escape, perhaps even take me to my father, I’ll let you harangue me on my choices for as long as you wish. And I’ll pay you . . . whatever you want.”
“Ah, my lady, be careful what you offer.” He scratched Bess’s neck. “I don’t see how any scoundrel could refuse such a bargain.”
“Can you do it?” She needed to see his eyes, to read affection or enmity there, but he kept his face turned to the dog.
“Better than anyone else.” Unfolding his long legs from the chair, he stood. “Take the gate at the bottom of the churchyard to the woods.”
“I know where the woods are.” She watched the necklace and the watch disappear into his pocket. “This is my estate.”
“Then I’ll meet you at the
