Page 63 of The Earl She Once Saved

“You are thinking very loudly.”

“I shall write in the morning,” Ezra confirmed.

Rafe nodded. “Good.”

Outside, wind pressed against the windows. He looked down at Roland’s letter. He had spent the day thinking of his brother’s return in terms of inheritance, law, and obligation. Roland would take back the title. He would attempt to take command of the estate. Every acre Rafe had begun learning would belong to him again.

Yet none of it was what Rafe saw when he imagined Roland crossing Edgeworth’s threshold. He saw Verity. He saw her at the Marchmonts’ ball, standing beneath a hundred watchful eyes. He saw her in the rain, kneeling upon the gravel with her arms around an old dog. He saw the look she had worn in the carriage, the look of sorrow and loneliness.

Rafe told himself that meeting Roland in Ripon was a matter of duty, an obligation of his own. It was not the estate he meant to protect.

The knowledge struck with unsettling clarity.

Thunder broke above the house. The windows shook. A moment later came the sound of a door opening sharply in the passage. Footsteps followed, then voices … many voices.

Rafe set down his glass.

“What is that?” Ezra asked.

Rafe was already at the door. The passage beyond had filled with servants. One carried a lamp. Another was pulling on a coat. Mrs. Hale stood near the stairs, issuing orders toward the kitchen corridor.

At the center of them was Verity. She had changed out of the blue gown, but her hair was still dressed for the ball, loosened now around her face. Her voice was controlled.

“Search the west passage again. Check beneath the stairs and in the linen rooms. James, take a lantern to the stables.”

She turned and saw Rafe. For the first time since he had come to Edgeworth, she looked frightened.

“What has happened?”

Thunder rolled again. Verity’s face went white.

“Sergeant is gone.”

Chapter 11

The words sounded impossible even as Verity spoke them.

Sergeant did not go.

He followed. He waited. He planted his broad body wherever she happened to be and regarded every closed door as a personal affront until someone opened it for him. But thunder had broken over the house, and the old terror had taken him.

“When did anyone last see him?” Rafe asked.

“In the hall.”

“Before the thunder?”

“Yes. No.” Verity pressed one hand to her temple. “I don’t know. He was there when we came in.”

She could still see him upon the blue silk of her gown, with his paw planted across the hem as if claiming her before the entire household. Then, she went upstairs. She left him.

“Did anyone see a door open?” she demanded.

The servants looked from one to another.

James, one of the footmen, stepped forward. “The kitchen door, my lady. One of the maids went to fetch wood. She thought she shut it.”

“You thought?”