Charity tilted her head to the side and listened. The water, unseen at the bottom of the deep ravine, sounded as if it gurgled and rushed over sharp rocks.
“Have you ever climbed down to play in the water?” she asked.
“Not from here,” he said. “The cliff is sheer, and the bottom is nothing but stones and gravel.” He paused. “We aren’t far from where my father fell.”
Charity glanced at him, sensing his melancholy. His eyes were far away, so she sat in silence for a few minutes to allow him time with his thoughts. Twisting, she looked all around. Her eyes roved the path and delved into a copse of trees they’d already passed, and something moved within. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, trying to decide if her eyes were playing tricks. She reached back blindly for her husband’s arm and tugged on his sleeve.
“I think someone’s watching us,” she hissed. “Over in those trees.”
Lachlan frowned. Under normal circumstances he would have laughed and pronounced it a rabbit, but things weren’t very normal right now. “Are you sure?”
Charity nodded.
“Stay here,” he said. He stood and walked back up the path toward the stand of trees she’d indicated.
She watched him go, hugging her arms around her midsection. She felt oddly queasy, though she didn’t understand why. She looked around. The woods now seemed rather threatening, and the edge of the bluff far too close. She
shuddered, disconcerted. She had never been a person afraid of the unknown. When Amity went through a period of eschewing dark places, Charity had always been the one to show her there was nothing to fear. She didn’t feel that way anymore.
Behind her a twig cracked, and that was it for Charity. She stood and began walking up the path in the direction her husband had taken, her back crawling. Quickening her steps as she drew closer, wanting to reach him before he disappeared into the trees, she reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.
He spun. “Charity! I thought you were—” He took one look at her pale face and stopped walking. “Let’s get you home.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she admitted, a note of apologetic confusion in her voice. “I’m not usually this jumpy.”
Lachlan shrugged and rubbed her shoulders. He had probably made his wife feel that way, himself, inadvertently infusing her with his own subconscious paranoia. They climbed together back up the path toward the keep. He vowed to calm her down in the best way he knew how.
Back in the trees, the watcher breathed a sigh of relief. There would have been nowhere to run if Lachlan hadn’t turned around. This hiding place backed right onto the cliff, so the only option would have been to emerge and be seen.
“I was watching the entire time you were gone, my lord. She never left the solar.”
Niles and Lachlan walked back down the path, hurrying to get there before nightfall. Lachlan shook his head. “Someone was there. Charity was completely spooked, and I felt it
too. We were being followed at the very least, even if the person meant us no harm.”
“I’m telling you,” the valet said, “it wasn’t your mother—unless she hired someone to follow you, which would be ludicrous. I don’t think there’s a single person in the entire village who would pour water on her if she was on fire, and she hasn’t left Scotland in years.”
They reached the trees and knelt, examining the ground leading into and out of the small grove. After a few moments Niles found what they were seeking: a footprint pressed into the soft earth. A man’s footprint.
They looked around and found several more, the deepest ones very near the place Charity said she had first seen someone. Lachlan would have found him if his wife hadn’t tapped his shoulder when she had.
“None of this makes sense,” said Niles.
Lachlan glanced down the path. “We were sitting on that patch of grass when Charity grabbed my hand. I was looking down this way, toward the edge of the cliff where my father fell.” He wrinkled his brow, trying to get a thought to coalesce. Something had been about to click into place when Charity grabbed his hand, something that should have seemed obvious to him.
“Do you think your father’s accident was really an accident?”
“I’m beginning to wonder. He mentioned odd things that occurred in the months leading up to his death. A large rock fell from the outer wall of the keep and almost hit him when he was walking nearby. At the time we just thought the walls needed to be repaired, and I had that handled, but what if that rock was pushed?”
They turned and walked back up the path as darkness began to fall. Niles said, “You sent for the Duke of Blackthorne
after the incident with the coach. Perhaps when he arrives we can begin to piece this together. He isn’t so close to the situation, and might see things you’re missing because you’re so aware of the need to be vigilant.”
Lachlan nodded. “He has a keen mind and an excellent feel for such things. In the meantime, we need to tell Lewiston. He can help keep an eye on Charity since she seems to enjoy his company. I can’t help but feel she’s in danger, too.”
The valet looked grim. “If those footprints belong to that Iverson character, there’s no telling what he plans. To follow you all the way up to Scotland . . . An obsessed madman is capable of just about anything.”
Thirty
It
took a while, as it turned out, for Lachlan’s note to reach Sebastian. The messenger went first, as instructed, to Blackthorne Manor, where he learned the duke was not in residence. Having been instructed that might be the case, the messenger next made his way to London and presented himself at the Duke of Blackthorne’s town house.
“His grace just left for Blackthorne Manor,” intoned the haughty butler who opened the door.
The messenger sighed. “But I’ve just come from there!”
The butler raised his brows. “If you’ve been instructed to personally deliver that message, it appears you’ll have to go back.” Then he closed the door. The weary messenger turned and walked back down the steps. His horse needed rest.
He
needed rest. For that reason, he decided to stop for the night at the large inn he’d passed on the outskirts of London. He’d return to Blackthorne Manor in the morning.
Three days in a row Charity woke up feeling queasy. The first day she stayed in bed, hoping it would pass, but it didn’t and she had to lunge for the chamber pot on Lachlan’s side of the bed. By the third morning she figured out that she had time to make it to her own room if she got right out of bed and hurried.
Enid entered while she was still crouched over the bowl. Charity eyed her miserably. “I don’t know what’s wrong
with me. I keep getting sick in the mornings, and then I’m fine for the rest of the day.”
A smile appeared on the young girl’s face, and she knelt next to her mistress. “My lady, you are with child.”
“With child,” Charity repeated numbly. “That is what’s making me ill?”
Enid fetched a cloth and dampened it in the bathing chamber. She brought it back and pressed it to Charity’s flushed forehead. “Your sisters have babies, my lady. Do you not know the signs?”
She shook her head. “They don’t live near Pelthamshire, and I only saw Faith toward the end of her time.” She stood up and then sat down heavily on the side of the bed. “With child,” she said again, wonderingly. The reality finally began to sink in, and she raised delighted eyes to Enid. “I’m having a baby!”
The maid nodded and laughed.
“I have to find Lachlan and tell him right away.” Charity took two steps toward the door and then looked down. She was still clad in only her dressing gown, and she looked a fright, having just been sick.
Enid sprang into action. “Let me draw you a bath, and then I’ll lay something out for you to wear and send his lordship in to see you after a bit.” Her voice faded as she walked into the bathing chamber and began drawing the water.
Charity stood and wandered over to the full-length mirror. She stood before it, staring at her midsection. It didn’t seem possible that a baby could grow in there. She grabbed a pillow off the bed and turned sideways, holding it in front of her tummy. When that didn’t help her envision the future, she opened the sides of her dressing gown, stuffed the pillow inside, and pulled them closed again.
“Are you planning a costume?”
At the sound of her husband’s amused voice, Charity dropped the pillow and whirled. “You scared me!” she accused, but then smiled happily. She took a step toward him, but forgot about the pillow between her feet. Tripping, she fell in an undignified heap at his feet.
Lachlan laughed and held out a hand. Charity scraped the hair out of her eyes and accepted his help. Once she found her feet, she tilted her head to the side and regarded him steadily, a silly smile on her face and her eyes aglow.
“You look like you’re just bursting with news, kitten.”
“I am,” she said, and then stopped, feeling suddenly shy.
He raised his eyebrow. “Well? Better out than in, I say.”
Charity looked ruefully toward the chamber pot. “I’d have to agree,” she said and bit her lip. “I—”
“My lady, your bath is ready.” Enid emerged from the bathing chamber, saw the marquess, and curtsied. “Begging your pardon, my lord. I didn’t realize you’d come in.”
“It’s fine, Enid.” He smiled. “I’ll help Lady Asheburton with her bath.”
The girl nodded, exchanged a quick glance with Charity, and left.
Lachlan took his wife’s hand and led her into the bathing room. He pushed the dressing gown back off her shoulders and watched as it slithered to the floor. “You . . . are beautiful, kitten,” he said, awed as always by the sheer perfection of her body. Everything about his wife was petite but exquisitely proportioned, so that her legs appeared impossibly long although she barely came up to his shoulder.
He helped her into the hot scented water and then sat on the edge of the tub holding her hair up out of it so she could lie back. He draped the hair over the edge. “Now. Tell me this news.”
Her lips curved in a smile, and her entire face was transformed by the glow that stole across her features. She raised eyes filled with wonder to his. “I think I am with child, Lachlan.”
He drained of all color and didn’t respond.
The smile faded from Charity’s face when she saw his reaction, and she felt a tight knot form in her chest. She had been so sure he would be happy. “I mean, I’m n-not completely certain,” she stammered, and then looked down so that he wouldn’t see the tears that suddenly filled her eyes.
Lachlan realized his reaction was hurting her, when he was only concerned for her continued safety. If the person following them was after the title and his wife was now pregnant . . . “Oh, Charity,” he said. He reached under her chin and lifted her face so that she could see his face. “I
am
happy. You just surprised me, that’s all. It made me nervous. What if I’m a terrible father?”
“That’s not possible,” she said softly. “You take such wonderful care of me.”
Charity finished her bath and he helped her out, wrapping her in a giant towel before ringing for Enid. The maid arrived, and he smiled and instructed her to never leave Charity alone. Ever. “Make sure that if you have to be elsewhere you’ve found someone else to stay with her.”
“Lachlan!” admonished Charity, laughing. “I’m not an invalid.”
“Still,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. He left the room.
In the hall he stopped and stuck his head into his bedchamber, giving a cursory glance around, but he left when he didn’t see Niles. Walking down the corridor toward the stairs, he covered the distance with ground-devouring
strides. The need to find out who was behind the attacks had just received a sharp kick in the rear.
“You wanted to see me?” Lewiston stood in the doorway to his brother’s study and glanced uncertainly from Niles to Lachlan. The valet, one hip perched on the edge of the desk, didn’t say a word, but the marquess stopped in midpace and motioned him inside.
“I’m leaving for England within the hour, and I need you to help me with something.”
Lewiston sat down in one of the brown leather club chairs facing the desk. “Of course, Lachlan. Anything.” He watched as his brother circled around behind the desk and waited for him to speak, wondering what this was all about.
“I need you to keep an eye on Charity for me. There have been some . . . incidents since we’ve come to Scotland.”
“Incidents?”
“It is possible the incidents were directed at me, but I can’t be certain. Given the circumstances of my marriage to Charity, she might be the target as well. And there might be other reasons.”
“Hold on, Lachlan. You’re not making sense.” Lewiston leaned forward. “I don’t know the circumstances of your marriage, nor am I aware of any incidents since you’ve arrived.”
“The axle did not simply
break
on my coach that day I took Charity into Ashton; it was sawed almost completely through so that it would come apart during the trip.”
“Sawed through? That’s insane. Who would do such a thing?”
“Someone who wanted to hurt either me or Charity, obviously. The bottom line is that I need you and Niles to keep her in sight at all times while I am gone. He can fill
you in on the rest of the details, so that you understand why I think she might be a target. I need to get on the road, however, so that I can reach my destination and return as quickly as possible.”
“I’ll do everything I can. Are you going to London?”
“No. I’m going to get her twin sister and her brother-in-law. He’s a doctor,” Lachlan reported, as if that explained everything. Nodding to Niles and Lewiston, he turned toward the door.
“Wait!” Lewiston stood and faced the marquess, who paused briefly, an impatient look on his face. “Why are you going all the way to England for a doctor? If someone is hurt . . .”
Lachlan shook his head. “Nobody is hurt. Charity is pregnant. Gareth Lloyd trusted Dr. Meadows implicitly with his wife, and Charity won’t feel so isolated from her family if her sister comes for a visit.” He left the room, his booted feet echoing down the long stone floor until he turned the corner.