“Billy, the stable lad, broke his arm, is all,” Mrs. Turner had explained.
“Billy. He works with you, does he not?” At Mr. Hash’s nod, she continued. “I heard he broke his arm. I’ve worked with some injuries, you know.” She’d had to, when they couldn’t afford to send for the doctor anymore. “I’d be happy to take a glance.”
Mr. Hash scratched the white scruff along is chin, looking as confused as she felt. “He’s fine, not sure what you’re speaking of.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the boy who was shoveling hay in the open door of the stalls.
“That’s Billy?” The young lad looked hail and healthy. There was certainly nothing wrong with either arm, or any limb for that matter. How very strange. Maybe she had misunderstood Mrs. Turner after all, or maybe, just maybe, the woman had lied.
Mr. Hash nodded. “Fit as a fiddle.”
“But…is there, perhaps, another Billy?” she prodded. “The name is quite common.”
He shook his head. “The only on the estate.”
Mrs. Turner had lied, but why?
“Are you all right, miss?”
Beth forced her lips upward. So be it, she would play the dunce until she uncovered the truth. “Never mind. I misunderstood.”
“Mrs. Church!” The deep voice that echoed across the lawn, bounced against the stable walls and hit Beth like a storm.
Startled, she spun around, her heart hammering madly. Lord Brimley was pulling Oliver from the stallion she’d told them only moments before not to touch. The little demons had climbed over the fence while she and Mr. Hash had been in discussion. Oh dear Lord. He could have been injured, or worse…killed.
She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved they had been caught in time, or terrified over the fury she saw on Lord Brimley’s face. This wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all. Mr. Hash rushed toward the stables, nudging Billy inside, and abandoning her to her fate.
“Do I not pay you to watch my children?” Lord Brimley glared at his sons one by one, who were looking everywhere but at him. “Behind the fence!”
Without hesitation, they scampered through the railings.
“To your rooms, now!”
The children raced toward the castle. She didn’t blame them, she’d be running as well. As much as she despised the little beasts, Beth couldn’t help but feel the need to defend them. Blast, but she’d had enough. She turned her full force on Lord Brimley, refusing to cower. She’d cowered enough for one lifetime. But as she parted her lips to reprimand him, she noticed his face, looked beyond the anger and saw his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his tousled locks. Memories of last night flashed to mind. The annoyance she felt, turned to empathy. What was wrong with him?
“My children are not to ride,” he fumed, turning his anger on her. He wore only his shirtsleeves, no jacket, no tie, as if he’d raced from his study…which, she realized with a quick glance toward the castle, looked directly upon the stables. Wonderful.
“I understand, my lord.” She turned her attention to the ground, attempting to look demure. She would take whatever verbal abuse he spewed upon her. She deserved it. She hadn’t been watching the children, too caught up in trying to uncover the mysteries of the estate when it wasn’t her place.
He was quiet as he studied her, and for one horrible moment she thought he saw through her ruse, knew who she really was. Perhaps Eliza had recognized her and told him. “You will watch them better in the future.”
Heat crept up her neck, even as relief made her knees weak. How she despised his lofty tone but she didn’t dare speak her mind. Besides, it could have been worse…he could have thrown her out upon her ear. “Yes, my lord.” She kept her gaze on the ground, for if she saw him smirking she would be forced to slap his handsome face and then he’d most assuredly let her go.
He rested his hands on his hips. “Good, you may leave.”
Dismissed like a child. She had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him what she truly thought. Instead, she dropped into an elegant curtsey. “Yes, my lord.”
When she peeked up at him it was to see his eyes narrowed with suspicion, taking note of her sarcastic tone. Or perhaps he’d noticed her curtsey, executed so perfectly it was almost mocking. Lord, she’d messed up once more. Before he could reprimand her, a footman came running around the side of the castle.
“My lord! My lord!”
Lord Brimley jerked his gaze from her and focused on the approaching man. “What is it, Stevens?”
The young lad came to a halting stop, his pale face glistening with sweat. “Another dead sheep, my lord.”
Chapter 6
An icy chill scraped down Nate’s spine. He’d thought seeing his son upon that stallion had been terrifying, but this … this changed things completely. A wild horse was nothing compared to what was truly out there. He wasn’t sure whether to be furious or worried. He settled on both.
Allen had struck again.
Shite, he should have killed him when he’d had the chance. It wouldn’t be long before the pup would lose control and murder an innocent, or worse, turn one.
“My lord, shall we start questioning the farmers?” Stevens asked, so ready to be helpful.
He didn’t need clues, he didn’t need a confession. He knew who had done the deed. His anger flared, his fingers curling as he resisted the urge to react. But no, he must stay calm while Mrs. Church watched him so carefully. And she always watched him with those intense, beautifully haunted eyes that saw so much more than most.
“Yes, I suppose we should question the neighbors. Uncover if they noticed anything,” he said, knowing he must say something.
The footman was watching him. Mrs. Church was watching him. It seemed as if the entire world watched him. He felt their curiosity all the way to his soul. They were waiting for his command. God forbid he tell them the truth. No, he couldn’t be honest. Never.
This was something he must take care of on his own. And he would have to take care of it soon, before someone was hurt, or worse. He surged forward, making his way through the garden and toward the back of the house and leaving Stevens and Mrs. Church behind. If only Allen hadn’t been hunting in his woods that night. If only he hadn’t tried to kill Nate, and Nate hadn’t reacted in self-defense.
The wagon rested in the drive with a housemaid, two footmen, and a group of nearby farmers hovering near the bed. He caught the scent of blood and death minutes before he arrived. His feet stumbled, his stomach growing tight with hunger. He understood Allen’s desire, but he didn’t understand his glee in the kill.
Fluffy fur stained red, pink flesh hanging from white bone…There, on a wagon, was the mauled remains of a sheep. The humanity within made Nate’s stomach roil, even as the beast begged for more. Never had Nate actually enjoyed the kill. He looked away, focusing on Mr. Roan who was obviously the leader of the group.
“My lord.” Mr. Roan nodded, his face a mixture of respect and anger as he clutched his cap in his weathered hands. “I’m sorry to bother you, but this has got to stop! We’re losing too much stock. We’ll gather a party together for this evening an’ hunt down the wolf.”
He felt Mrs. Church’s closeness, breathed in her scent. It calmed him for some reason. What else could he do but agree? He had to do something, anything to make it stop. Even if he had to kill the beast himself.
“My lord,” Mrs. Turner interrupted. He’d been so focused on Mrs. Church’s approach he hadn’t realized the housekeeper was there. When he’d hired her she hadn’t exactly been trained for the position, but he could trust her to keep his secret, and that was all that mattered. “We haven’t seen wolves in these parts for years. Are ye positive—”
“What else would it be?” Mr. Roan snapped.
She frowned. “Yes, but—”
“Enough,” Nate demanded, silencing them all.
Why couldn’t they merely let him deal with the situation and leave him in peace? Damn it all, he was lord here, least
they forget. Yet, there was wariness in their gazes that said they didn’t fully trust him. Perhaps they’d heard the rumors of his odd ways. Perhaps they thought him too much the rake to care.
“Is it a wolf?” Mr. Roan said. “I don’t know, but—”
“I saw one,” Mrs. Church’s sweet voice seemed at odds with the horrible scene before them.
Nate jerked his gaze toward her. She stood outside of the group looking small and vulnerable and so damn innocent. The woman was too curious by far and too damn stubborn to ignore his repeated threats and warnings to stay inside. After what he’d gone through, not much frightened him. But he realized as he stood there, his hackles raised, sweat beading on his upper lips, that he was terrified the little governess would uncover the truth about him.
“Pardon, miss?” the farmer asked.
Mrs. Church blushed a charming shade of pink. The color brought life to her pale face and made her almost beautiful. Did others notice as well? “A…a wolf. I swear the other night I saw one while looking out my window.”
Mrs. Turner swallowed nervously, her gaze flickering to him, before focusing on Mrs. Church again. He prayed no one else noticed her guilty glance. “There are many mongrels, miss, that one might mistake for a wolf.”
“I know what I saw,” Mrs. Church insisted in a way that left no room for argument. “It was a wolf.”
Mrs. Turner pressed her lips firmly together, obviously annoyed about being thwarted and by a governess, no less. The housekeeper was merely trying to help him, to turn the hunt in another direction. But as he’d realized the moment she entered his home, Mrs. Church would not be waylaid.
“They’ve been known to come down from Scotland,” Nate allowed.
“Perhaps it would be best,” Mrs. Church stated, focusing on him. “To keep the children inside until you find the animal.”
Nate nodded. “Agreed.” Let them try to find Allen, although he knew the futility of such a search for the beast. Allen was too smart to be caught. To lethal to hold back. Nate would humor the men before him, allow them to believe they could catch the beast. But in the end, he would have to take the man down himself.
“I must say,” Mrs. Church continued. “Is it not rather sad to think of killing such an amazing creature?”
The entire staff including the farmers jerked their stunned gazes toward her. When her face flushed he realized that she probably hadn’t meant to speak out loud. Who was this woman who could show empathy to such a monster?
“Sad? Have you seen what it’s done to my sheep?” Mr. Roan cried out, swinging his arm wide to include the mangled mess upon the carriage bed. The other farmer’s behind him nodded their heads in aggressive agreement. If he didn’t get her away from them fast, he’d have a mutiny on his hands.
She grimaced. “Yes, that is rather horrible, but it was only hungry. The wolf was only doing what it was born to do…hunt. Perhaps if we fed it…”
Nate resisted the urge to sigh. The woman was stubborn indeed, she just didn’t know when to give up. Good god, she was actually defending the beast. She was truly mad.
Mr. Roan’s face grew a brilliant red. “This was not a feed killing, this was a slaughter. For the pure pleasure of killing.”
She blanched. “Are you saying that the wolf killed for the mere thrill of the hunt? That’s absolutely ridiculous. Animals don’t do that.”
If only she was correct. But no, he knew. Aye, Nate knew only too well. “Are you an expert?” Nate bit out, having had enough.
She flushed and he regretted his harsh tone. But blast it all, she truly didn’t understand the direness of the situation. Her innocence could get her injured, or worse. Hell, he could just imagine the daft woman sneaking off in the middle of the night to try and feed the wolf, like it was an abandoned kitten in need of a mother.
He stepped closer to Mrs. Church, towering over her, but the woman didn’t even flinch. “If the culprit had intended to feed, why does the entire sheep remain?”
She shifted, uneasy. “What do you mean?”
“No flesh was consumed, it was only torn from the animal, killed senselessly for pleasure.”
“Aye, aye,” he heard from the farmers behind, reminding him they weren’t alone.
Mrs. Church frowned, sliding a wary glance toward the sheep remains. “I see.”
“All right, enough.” Nate held up his hands. “We will meet here at sunset. Gather what men you can.”
He started toward the house, eager to escape. He could hear Mrs. Church’s quick footsteps catching up to him and almost cursed aloud. Could she not leave him in peace? Was he never to be left alone?
“This feels very much like a witch hunt of old,” she said, breathless as she attempted to keep his quick pace. “When people merely reacted instead of thinking things through.”
He didn’t dare slow down for that would show actual interest, even if she did have a point.
“Fear makes men act the fools and I worry someone will be injured, or worse.”
He couldn’t argue with her because he agreed. The woman had more sense than ten men. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Church, if I’m shot dead, I’m sure my cousin will keep you on as the boy’s governess.”
She sighed. “That’s not what I…”
But he didn’t hear the rest. He reached the door and yanked it open, letting it fall back into place before the woman could follow.
****
“I don’t see why I can’t go with,” Charlie grumbled, kicking at the floorboards in the nursery.
The other three boys sat at their table, their books open, although their slates were empty, and their mouths just as pouty. Charlie pushed away from the fireplace and paced the room.
“I’d dearly love to see a wolf in its natural habitat,” John added, setting his math book down and pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Would be rather amazing, I assume.”
“Tis probably in the field,” Oliver said wistfully with a glance toward the windows.
“Don’t be stupid,” John replied. “Most likely it’s got a den in the woods. He’d want to be by fresh water.”
“No one is witnessing a wolf anywhere.” Beth turned back toward the window where she was washing down the glass with the help of a housemaid. The setting sun sliced through the cleaned panes, sending rays of light into the nursery. It added a brightness the area desperately needed.
Unable to stand the mess any longer, she’d decided to take things into her own hands. How anyone could concentrate in this disaster of a room, was beyond her. Besides, keeping busy would stop her from thinking and worrying about Lord Brimley. She told herself she was merely concerned for her position as a governess. If Lord Brimley met his demise, she would be out of work. But she knew, deep down, it was so much more.
She paused, the water dripping down the glass as she gazed unblinkingly out the windows. Why? Why did she feel such a pull toward the man? It was inconceivable, confusing.
“What do you think, miss?” the maid asked, startling Beth.
“Lovely, Ann. Much better indeed.” Beth smiled down at the maid, who was more of a child than adult. She reminded her so much of Lolly, her own maid. The thought sobered her quickly enough. “If you could have Martha clean the sheets, I’d be very grateful.”
“Yes, Mum.” The maid curtsied and then rushed from the room, a bucket of dirty water in hand. The staff was still nervous around the lads, although they hadn’t pulled any jests since learning about the hunt. Their devious little minds were concentrated on the wolf.
The rest of the day had gone on without incident, mostly because the children and household were in an excited uproar over the hunt. She hadn’t a clue why anyone would be so thrilled about killing another living being, but she never had understood the workings of the male mind.
“Can we use its skin for a rug?” Oliver asked.
Beth grimaced. “What a savage question. Of course not. It is a living being. An animal that should be respected.”
&n
bsp; They looked at her as if she’d just sprouted another set of arms. Perhaps she was insane. She never had felt as if she were like other women her age. While they gossiped, played piano, and talked of the latest French fashion, she would have much rather been studying her art, or outside having adventures with her brother. Her gaze shifted to the hills in the distance. Ever since spotting that wolf her first night, she’d felt a connection with the beast. Something she couldn’t explain. Perhaps she merely respected the animal. But she couldn’t imagine that wolf she’d seen as the animal capable of killing.
“Mrs. Church!” Mrs. Turner rushed into the room, her cap askew atop her gray head. “We’re understaffed. Can ye help load the wagon?”
She set her rag upon the window ledge. “Load the wagon?”
“Yes, the men are insisting on taking dinner along as if it’s a bloody party.”
Beth swiped her damp hands upon her apron. She wanted nothing to do with the hunt, but knew better than to say no. “Of course.”
As she paused near the housekeeper, Mrs. Turner leaned closer and lowered her voice. “They’d also like to know exactly where it was ye thought ye spied the wolf.”
Oh Lord, word of her sighting had traveled. The children were watching her curiously. Wonderful, even they knew. Everyone must think her completely and utterly mad. More importantly, she’d brought attention to herself when she was supposed to be in hiding.
“Mrs. Church, will ye help?” Mrs. Turner asked.
“Yes, of course.” She turned her sternest gaze toward the children. “You will stay in your rooms. Understood? Do not leave this chamber.”
She could feel the burn of their glares against her back as she followed Mrs. Turner down the hall. Would she ever win them over? And the local farmers thought the wolf was something to fear, they’d obviously never had to deal with the four beasts living right here in the castle.
“The men are setting up camp in the woods and want dinners.” Mrs. Turner sighed as they moved down the narrow servant’s steps. “Rather ridiculous…all this work over a nonsensical wolf.”
A Night of Redemption (The Night Series Book 2) Page 8
