Eloise tilted her head. “Do they need to?”
The answer to the question was clearly in the negative, but Graham could not bring himself to admit it.
“Lieutenant Henshaw would go to the ends of the earth for Edith,” Eloise reminded him. “Mr. Andrews would bring down the wrath of hell. Mr. Vale, as I understand it, would do worse. These are not men standing idly by and waiting for the right time to summon you, Gray. I know you are at your wits’ end, wanting something to do to help sweet Edith. But trust that others are doing things and that solutions will come.”
Graham eyed his aunt with some admiration, remembering, belatedly, that she had more energy than her appearance suggested.
“Thank you, Eloise,” he murmured with a smile.
She inclined her head in an almost regal fashion that reminded him of Miranda Sterling. “You are not the only one being driven to distraction, you know.”
“Am I not?” he queried with a quirk of a brow.
“You don’t think Molly and I would run off to save Edith if we only knew how?”
The image was a harrowing one, and a humbling one. Why should his aunt and his niece feel anything less than the rest of them did when it came to Edith? Anyone knowing her would want to help her. He’d wager the Spinsters were beside themselves trying to find a way to help, despite what their husbands would or would not allow. Who knew how many other people would have loved to find a way to save Edith?
Despite being almost alone here at Merrifield, Graham suddenly felt rather less alone in the grander sense.
This had to work. Whatever they settled on, whatever was in the works, had to succeed.
It had to.
Footsteps in the corridor attracted the attention of them both, and the arrival of a footman with a tray brought Graham to his feet. He took the letter from the tray and broke the seal at once, his eyes scanning the words frantically.
All is set. Come to London to begin.
It was signed by Ingram, but it could have come from any of them and had the same effect.
Graham grinned and crumpled the letter in one hand, giving his aunt a triumphant look.
“Well?” she queried with a catch in her voice.
“I’m going to London.” He chuckled in his relief. “I don’t know what we’re doing when I get there, but it sounds as if there is a plan.”
Eloise smiled up at him and took his hand. “Go, Graham. And send us word when we may come to London.”
Graham looked at her in surprise. “You haven’t been to London in years. Will you be well enough for the journey?”
“For Edith,” Eloise insisted with a nod, “I will make myself well enough.”
The whole city of London knew Edith was tainted now; there was no mistaking it.
She could not leave the house without stares, whispers, and comments following her, not even for a walk, as she had tried the other day. Not a soul would look at her. She had gone out walking with Simms that morning, and it was as though she bore the plague.
True to his word, Sir Reginald had his men always following her, and they had even entered the house and her rooms on occasion. Owen had vowed to protect her at all times, no matter the cost, and he rarely left her side when they were at home. He had begun to sleep in her personal sitting room now, with a gun and blade by his side. According to him, he did not care what anybody said; no one would touch her while he drew breath.
Sir Reginald called upon her at will, but he had not yet made any advances worse than what she had already experienced. He had chosen to stay the night a time or two, staying in a guest room, and leaving in broad daylight so everyone would see. His visits would usually consist of him berating her, touching her, taking a rough kiss or two, and then busying himself with drinking and eating and sleeping.
Edith did not fight it. Did not fight him. She was without feeling anymore, resigned to her fate. She could only hope that he would tire of her soon.
Still, she did not regret her choice. She loved Molly as if she were her own child and would have sacrificed herself to a fate far worse than this to save her. But in doing what she had, Edith effectively had distanced herself from her friends forever.
And from Graham.
There was no thought of him that was not an equal blend of the bitter with the sweet. Her dreams were filled with him, and she woke to tears every morning. What a life she might have had, if only things had been different!
But there was no use in wishing such things. She could cling to memories, but not live in them.
She was on her own now.
A pounding on the door brought her from her thoughts, her heart leaping anxiously into her throat. She rose quickly and flattened herself against the wall while Owen, armed as he usually was now, moved to the door.
“Ye muckle gomeral, dinnae point tha’ thing so near my face.”
Edith gasped, her eyes widening at the blessed sound of the one person she knew was not permitted to cross the threshold.
“Dinnae tempt me, an’ ye willna have aught to worry aboot,” Owen growled, though the tone was without any threat at all. “An’ what in the Devil’s purple arse is tha’?”
“If it was fer ye, I’d explain. As it is…” Strong footsteps clomped in the corridor, and then Lachlan was before her in the parlor, expression serious, his frame thinner than when she had seen him last.
“Lachlan,” Edith gasped, still flat against the wall in shock.
Lachlan eyed her for a second, his shoulders dropping on an exhale. “Edie.” He whistled sharply then, and another sound in the corridor met her ears.
A great, brown bloodhound sauntered into the room, his ears drooping as much as his face. He glanced at Edith blearily, then came to her and dropped himself at her feet.
“Rufus?” Edith stared at the animal in shock, recognizing him from occasional visits with the Spinsters to Miranda Sterling’s home. Then she looked back at her brother. “What the devil?”
Silently, her brother handed over a note, and Edith opened it quickly.
Dearest girl, I cannot be with you during this terrible ordeal, but I can send my sweet boy to you for companionship, comfort, and protection. Know that my heart and prayers come with him. Do not lose hope.
It was signed by Miranda Sterling. Edith stared at the name, sniffing back sudden tears.
They hadn’t forgotten her.
Of course, they wouldn’t, but absolute seclusion could play the very worst tricks on a mind.
Edith stooped and scratched Rufus behind his ears, murmuring softly in Gaelic until the dog seemed to sigh deeply. She grinned, then stood and faced her brother.
“So. You’ve met Miranda.”
Lachlan raised a bushy brow. “I’ve met so many people in the last weeks, I can barely remember my own name.”
“And how did they take you?” she asked. “Well?”
“Well enough. I’m no saint, but I’m no’ the devil.” He smiled at last and almost looked himself. “But what about ye, Edith? I have heard all sorts of things about you. A mistress to Sir Reginald? At his beck and call? His devoted slave for all eternity?”
She shuddered and looked away. “Only partially correct. I am no’ his mistress in truth, and I am no’ a devoted slave. But I am a slave of sorts, and I am at his beck and call.”