by Laura Beers
“He did not,” she replied. “He attacked me the moment I got out of bed and put a pillow over my face.” She let out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t breathe, Oliver.”
He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “You are safe now,” he murmured softly against her hair. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Is he dead?”
She could feel him nod. “I shot him in the head,” he revealed.
“How did you know I was in trouble?”
“I wasn’t quite asleep yet when I heard a thud coming from your room, and I correctly assumed something was wrong.”
“Thank you for coming when you did.”
Leaning back, Oliver met her gaze. “You are my family now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” He paused. “Please say that you believe me, Emme.”
“I do.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Tears started rolling down her cheeks as she admitted, “I have never been so scared in my life. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t have let that happen, my dear.”
“Why would he attack me?” she asked, her words turning into a sob.
“I don’t know why, but I intend to find out.”
Glancing over at the window, she revealed, “I believe he came through my window. I don’t remember opening it before going to bed.”
Oliver tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “The bricks outside your window wouldn’t be too difficult to climb.”
“Now you say something,” she said lightly.
“We should get you out of this room,” he encouraged as he rose. “You will sleep in my bedchamber tonight.”
“I couldn’t possibly—”
He spoke over her. “Nonsense,” he said, offering his hand. “You will sleep in the bed, and I will sleep in the chair near the fireplace.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” she replied, rising.
“Frankly, I don’t want you out of my sight tonight,” Oliver asserted.
Her eyes turned downcast as she said, “I must admit that I feel the same way.”
“I am pleased to hear that.” Oliver slipped his arm over her shoulders, tucking her into his side. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Tea would be nice.”
“I shall see to it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t look at him,” Oliver instructed as they passed by her attacker’s sprawled-out body. “He isn’t worth your notice.”
They stepped into Oliver’s room, and he led her towards the four-poster bed. “I want you to rest until the tea arrives.”
She sat down on the bed. “Thank you for tending to me, Oliver.”
“It is my pleasure,” he replied. “Now, I’ll go see about that tea.”
Emmeline watched as Oliver walked over to the door, opened it, and provided instructions to the footman in the hall.
After he closed the door, he approached and sat down next to her on the bed. “What else do you require?”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Just don’t leave me,” she murmured, her words coming out as a plea.
He kissed the top of her head. “I won’t, at least until the constable arrives,” he said. “But I will make sure your lady’s maid stays with you then, so you won’t be alone.”
“That is most thoughtful of you,” she acknowledged before retreating to her own thoughts.
“Have you seen him before?” Oliver asked as the constable crouched next to the body.
“I have,” Constable Philmont replied. “His name is John Shaw, and he lives in the village.” He hesitated. “At least, he did.”
“Do you know of any reason he would attack my wife?”
“I do not,” the constable responded. “He worked odd jobs and spent entirely too much time at the pub, but he had never been in trouble with the law before.”
Oliver glanced over at the window, then said, “Her Ladyship believes he came in through her window.”
“Perhaps, but have you considered that someone intentionally let John into the manor?”
“I have,” he replied, his jaw clenched. “I also can’t help but wonder if my wife was attacked as retribution by the smugglers.”
“That is a possibility, as well,” the constable agreed, rising. “With your permission, I would like to interview the household staff and see if anyone lets something slip.”
“That would be wise,” Oliver commented. “Would you like me to join you?”
“Your presence may very well intimidate them, and I want to lure them into a sense of security,” Constable Philmont explained.
“Will you report your findings back to me?”
The constable nodded. “I will.”
“My wife mentioned that she spoke to her lady’s maid about the smugglers,” Oliver revealed. “You may want to speak to her first.”
Glancing down at the body, the constable said, “It was most fortunate for your wife that you had a pistol close at hand.”
“It was.”
“You have remarkable aim, especially considering the circumstances.”
“I am quite proficient with my pistol.”
The constable eyed him curiously. “You continually surprise me, milord.”
“That is not my intention,” Oliver said, his voice gruff. “I had little choice but to kill my wife’s attacker.”
“I am not contending that. I am merely trying to make sense of what happened here this evening.”
Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. “From what my wife told me, John was hiding under her bed and attacked her once she stepped out of bed.”
The constable walked over to the open window and looked out. “It would be quite difficult to climb these bricks with boots on, but it wouldn’t be impossible.”
“If one of the servants did let John in, then someone would have seen him making his way up to my wife’s bedchamber.”
“Most likely,” the constable remarked, turning back towards him. “Where is your wife now?”
“She is in my bedchamber with her lady’s maid.”
“Would you mind if I speak to her?”
Oliver frowned. “Is that truly necessary?”
“It is,” the constable replied, “but I assure you that I will attempt to be delicate with my questions.”
“See that you are.” Oliver walked over to the door that divided their bedchambers and knocked.
“Enter,” he heard his wife say.
He opened the door and was pleased to see that his wife was resting in bed. She had her back against the headboard as she sipped her tea. Her lady’s maid was sitting on a chair that had been repositioned next to the bed.
“The constable would like to speak to you,” he informed her. “Would that be permissible?”
Leaning over, Emmeline placed her cup and saucer onto the side table. “I assumed as much. You may send him in.”
Oliver gestured to the constable as Emmeline’s lady’s maid rose and went to stand against the far wall.
Constable Philmont stepped into the bedchamber and gave Emmeline an apologetic look. “I am sorry to disturb you, milady, but I have a few questions to ask you.”
“What would you care to know?”
“Did the attacker say anything to you?”
Emmeline shook her head. “He did not.”
“Have you ever seen him before?”
“I have not.”
The constable shifted uncomfortably in his stance before asking, “Are you aware of anyone who might want harm to befall you?”
“No.”
“Is there someone that would benefit from your death?”
“No one.”
With a side glance at him, Constable Philmont said, “His Lordship mentioned that you were attacked the moment you stepped out of bed.”
“That is right.”
“What happened next?”
Emmeline pressed her lips together, delaying her response. “H
e moved me onto my back and shoved a pillow over my face. He would have killed me if my husband hadn’t interceded when he did.”
“Then it is most fortunate that your husband has a steady hand with his pistol,” the constable remarked.
Emmeline turned her attention towards Oliver and said, “I am indeed fortunate.”
Oliver offered her a private smile and maintained her gaze. “You are worth saving, my dear.”
The constable cleared his throat, then said, “I would like to start by speaking to your lady’s maid, assuming you have no complaints.”
“I do not,” Emmeline replied.
“Excellent.” The constable turned towards Mary. “Would you mind if we spoke for a moment in the hall?”
Mary grew visibly tense. “I am not sure why you would need to speak to me,” she said. “I was asleep when the attack happened.”
“It is routine in these types of investigations.” Constable Philmont grinned. “Or so I have been told.”
With a reluctant bob of her head, Mary replied, “As you wish.”
Oliver waited until they left the room before he turned his attention back towards his wife. “How are you faring?”
“Much better,” she said.
His eyes roamed her lovely face as he commented, “The coloring in your face has returned to normal.”
“That’s good.”
“It is.” He sat down on the bed. “May I get you something?”
Emmeline smiled. “You already have done more than enough.”
“I don’t believe that to be true.”
“You saved me from an attacker.”
Reaching for her hand, he held it as he replied, “That was an easy feat.”
She watched him closely as she asked, “How did you become such a proficient shot?”
“With much practice,” he answered vaguely.
“Which I am most grateful for. It’s a skill that saved my life.”
Oliver brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I have never been so scared as when I saw that man smothering you with a pillow,” he admitted, lowering her hand. “For a moment, I feared that I was too late.”
“You saved my life.” Her words grew soft as she added, “I am sorry that you had to kill him.”
“Don’t be,” he asserted. “I would kill a hundred men if it meant that you were safe.”
Emmeline’s eyes shifted towards the door. “Why is the constable interviewing Mary?”
“The constable is worried that someone on the household staff may have let your attacker in,” he shared.
“And he believes Mary would be capable of doing such a horrendous thing?”
“Not necessarily, but you did confide in your lady’s maid about the smugglers.”
With a furrowed brow, Emmeline said, “That may be true, but Mary would never betray me. It is ludicrous to even suggest such a thing.”
“If that is the case, then your lady’s maid has nothing to fear in speaking to the constable,” Oliver replied.
“I should say so.”
Oliver’s eyes darted towards the door. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the constable, but do you have any reason to believe your uncle would hurt you?”
“For what purpose?” she asked in disbelief. “If he killed me, then Lockhart Manor still belongs to you.”
“I just find it odd that he arrived in Whitstable and you were attacked shortly thereafter.”
“It is just a coincidence.”
Oliver shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“My uncle would never hurt me,” Emmeline asserted. “I am sure of it.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I am sorry for upsetting you,” he said. “That was not my intention.”
Emmeline yawned and her hand came up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry, as well,” she replied. “I tend to grow rather irritable when I am tired.”
“You should get some sleep,” he encouraged.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” she admitted. “Every time I close my eyes, I imagine that man above me and I start panicking.”
Oliver reached out and cupped her right cheek. “Would it help if I stayed with you until you fall asleep?”
She nodded. “I feel much safer with you by my side.”
“Then so be it.”
Emmeline laid down and put her head on the pillow. “Thank you for staying with me,” she murmured.
“There is no place I would rather be,” he said, knowing he spoke the truth.
It wasn’t long before he heard Emmeline’s breathing grow deep, and he knew she was asleep. As he watched her, he realized he had done something intolerably foolish. He had gone and fallen in love with his wife.
Chapter Eighteen
Emmeline awoke to sunlight streaming in through the windows and sat up in bed. Her eyes strayed to the empty chair that Oliver had slept in last night, causing a smile to come to her face. He had gone to such great lengths to ensure she was tended to. How could I not love a man like that, she thought.
The door opened, and Mary stepped into the room with a jonquil gown draped over her arm. “I see that you are finally awake, milady,” she said lightly.
“I am.”
“Would you like me to bring a tray up, or would you care to join Lord Oliver in the dining room for breakfast?” her lady’s maid asked.
Emmeline tossed off the covers and placed her feet over the bed. “I believe I shall join Oliver in the dining room.”
“Very good choice.” Mary stepped closer to the bed. “Would you care to dress?”
“I would.”
As she helped Emmeline dress, Mary said, “The constable asked me some very pointed questions last night.”
“Did he?”
Mary nodded. “I think he suspects I had something to do with you being attacked, which is ridiculous.”
“I wouldn’t give him any heed,” Emmeline replied. “He is just doing his job.”
“He was rather intimidating.”
Emmeline smiled. “I agree with you.”
“You don’t believe I had anything to do with your attack, do you?” Mary asked with hesitancy in her voice.
Emmeline shook her head. “I do not,” she replied.
Mary let out a sigh of relief. “That pleases me immensely to hear, milady, because I would never betray you.”
“I am well aware of that.”
Stepping back, Mary said, “If you would sit in the chair, I will put your hair in a simple chignon so you can join Lord Oliver.”
“Thank you,” Emmeline murmured as she sat down.
While Mary was brushing her hair, she commented, “I think it was sweet how Lord Oliver fussed over you last night.”
“I thought so, as well.”
“You two appear to be getting rather close.”
Emmeline frowned. “It would appear that way, but something is holding Oliver back. He doesn’t fully trust me.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“I know not, but I intend to break down his defenses until he has no choice but to trust me,” she asserted.
“How do you plan to do that?”
Emmeline blew out a puff of air. “I have no idea,” she replied, “but I can see in his eyes that he holds me in some regard.”
“It is evident to everyone that he cares deeply for you,” Mary remarked as she twisted her hair into a chignon.
“I want a true marriage with Oliver, and I am willing to fight for it.”
“I am pleased to hear you say that,” Mary said, stepping back.
Emmeline rose and turned towards her lady’s maid. “Perhaps I should ask if he wants to take a walk along the beach, and I could broach the subject again.”
“I would imagine it would be less eventful during the day,” Mary teased.
She smiled. “That’s true.”
“You’d better hurry if you want to join Lord Oliver for breakfast,” Mary urged.
“You are right, of course,” she said as she walked over to the door.
Emmeline hurried towards the dining room, finding herself eager to see Oliver, and she was pleased to see him sitting at the head of the table. He rose from his chair when she walked into the room.
“Good morning, Emme,” he greeted with a smile.
She waved him back down, then said, “Good morning, Husband.” She walked over to the buffet table, picked up a plate and placed a piece of toast on it.
As she sat down to the right of him, Oliver eyed her with concern. “How are you faring this morning?”
“I am well.”
“Are you?”
“I assure you that I am.”
Oliver bobbed his head. “I am relieved to hear that,” he said. “The constable is still interviewing the servants.”
“He has been here all night?”
“He has,” Oliver confirmed.
“Does he have any information about why I was attacked?”
“Not that he has been forthcoming about.”
Emmeline placed her white linen napkin onto her lap. “I intend to start sleeping with a muff pistol under my pillow.”
“That is wholly unnecessary,” he replied. “I will keep you safe.”
“You won’t always be around.”
A pained look flashed into his eyes. “That is true,” he admitted, “which brings me to something that I have been meaning to speak to you about.”
“Oh?” she asked as she picked up her toast.
He cleared his throat, and Emmeline could see uncertainty on his features. “It would appear that…” His voice trailed off. “We can discuss it later.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am,” he said firmly.
After she took a bite of her toast, she placed it back on her plate and reached for her cup of chocolate. “Would you care to take a walk along the beach after breakfast?”
Oliver smiled, causing her heart to take flight. “I would.”
“That pleases me.”
The butler stepped into the room, met her gaze and announced, “Lord Taylor is here to call upon you, milady. Are you available for callers?”
“I am,” she replied, pushing back her chair. “Would you show him to the drawing room?”
Grubbs tipped his head. “As you wish.”
