Page 113 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“He heard about Margaret’s claim,” she said. “About the questions it raised. About the boy. And he will have shaped it to his liking.”

Eliza felt the house settle around them. Stone. Wood. Years layered thick as glass. Somewhere within all that, a man had listened as if their lives were nothing more than a diversion.

“And what,” she asked, “has he been told already?”

Thomas spoke before Nathaniel could.

“We believe the boy was not the end,” he said. “He was a path.”

Eliza turned to him.

“A test,” Nathaniel said. “To see how far you would ride. How quickly Hartleigh would strain to follow.”

Eliza looked at him. Heat moved behind her ribs in a slow, dangerous line.

“We believe,” Thomas said carefully, “that Sammy was taken to draw you outward. To see how far your protection would stretch. The threat was never meant to rest on the child alone.”

Eliza held his gaze.

“Say it.”

His eyes did not waver.

“You,” he said. “You were the point.”

The fire popped. A coal slid and settled.

“We did not tell you at once,” Eleanor said quietly. “Not until we were certain. I could not bear to place that burden on you without firmer ground.”

Eliza’s fingers curled beneath her gloves.

“How long,” she asked, “have you held this without me?”

“Since we began to trace his pattern,” Nathaniel said. “Not days. Weeks.”

Clara’s voice came soft.

“Since every step he took began to circle closer to you.”

Eliza turned to Thomas.

“And you?”

His answer cost him.

“This morning.”

So he had ridden beside her carrying that truth. Sat with her at Thornhaven. Spoken of paths and culprits while another lay clear in his mind.

Her throat went cold.

“All of you,” she said. “You decided what I could know. What I must not.”

Eleanor stepped forward.

“We meant to stand with you.”

“You chose instead to stand in front of me.”