Page 87 of Barbarous

Richard’s breathing was still irregular but he’d stopped crying. “Rowena attacked the man and then he hit her so hard she dropped to the ground. He dragged Mama toward the carriage and they were gone before we reached Rowena. I held her head in my lap while Lucien ran to find the barouche. And then Charles woke up and waited with me.”

“You’ve done very well, both of you. Now”—Hugh stood and ushered the twins toward the door—“I’d like to see Rowena.”

When Hugh entered the maid’s room a few minutes later, he found Daphne’s housekeeper tending to the older woman. He gestured her into the woman’s small sitting room.

“Is she conscious? Can she speak?”

“Yes, my lord, she woke up only a few minutes ago. I was just going to send for you as she is most agitated about something and wanted to speak to you.”

Hugh nodded. “The boys are waiting outside—take them to the kitchen and get them something to eat while I speak with Miss Claxton. Tell them I will come fetch them when I’m finished.” That way he could see if the maid was in any shape to see the boys.

The housekeeper smiled. “Aye, my lord, a spot of tea will do them good.”

Hugh closed the door before drawing a chair close to the bed.

“My lord,” Rowena said, not waiting for him to begin, “it was Walter Hastings’s old carriage. I saw the crest.” She winced from the pain of speaking.

“Shhh, do not make yourself ill; take your time. The boys told me about the carriage. They also said something about taking a ride on a boat. Did you hear any part of that?”

Rowena very slightly shook her head and winced even at that small movement. “By the time I got there, one of them had her almost to the carriage, where the other was waiting.”

“Do you know if Hastings owns a place by the water? Or perhaps owns a yacht?”

“I cannot recall Sir Malcolm ever mentioning any other property. Nor his uncle, Sir Walter.” She shook her head in frustration and then groaned. “I am sorry, but I cannot think of anyplace. I just wished to tell you of the carriage and—” She paused and swallowed hard.

“And?” Hugh prodded, trying to remain patient when all he wanted was to be in motion and doing something—anything—although he knew not what.

“My lord,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I may not survive and I would not want to go to my grave with this on my soul.”

Hugh opened his mouth to reassure her she’d be fine, but could see she badly needed to say something.

“It was I, my lord. It was I who . . . who cut your girth.” Her eyes shied away from his.

Hugh could not believe he’d heard her correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

She nodded, her face a mask of misery.

“You cut Pasha’s girth?” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “But why?” Hugh could hardly have been more shocked if Ponsby or Gates had admitted to doing such a thing.

“I was terrified you meant to take everything away from us and change things. Just like what happened to Daphne’s mother when Walter Hastings came and took her.” Her face twisted with self-loathing. “I did nothing then, even though I knew he was a lying, wicked man who didn’t love her.” She swallowed. “I was afraid your coming would wreck everything we’d worked so hard for. I was foolish.” She clutched at his hand. “I know I was wrong, my lord. Wrong to do it and wrong about what you meant to us. You have protected her against him. I will turn myself in.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

Hugh shook his head to clear the bizarre revelation from it. “Don’t talk rubbish, woman,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. “The last thing I want is to cause your mistress any grief. Throwing you in gaol would do just that. Besides, if I’d protected her as I should have, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said, indulging in a little self-loathing of his own.

“You will find her, my lord.” Her scared brown eyes bored into his.

“Yes, I will find her.”

The door opened and a man entered. “I am Doctor Compton,” a young blond man said, looking toward the small figure in the bed. “And what have we here?” he asked in a calm, friendly tone.

Hugh stood. “Please take good care of her, Doctor. She is very dear to Lady Davenport.” He reached down and took Rowena’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I will send news as soon as I have some,” he assured her.

Hugh encountered Kemal on his way to the stairs.

“Martín is here, Captain. He has ridden through the night to see you and is dirty and fatigued but insists he speak to you before anything else. I put him in your sitting room.”

“I’ll join him directly. Will you go to the kitchen and tell the boys they may visit Miss Claxton as soon as the doctor is finished?”

Hugh wasted no time going to his chambers. “Martín,” he said, extending his hand and gripping the shorter man’s brawny forearm in greeting.