Page 92 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“No,” Eliza said firmly. “Not while I still breathe.”

The ceiling beams gave a low, resonant groan. Not loud. Not violent.

Agreement.

Margaret startled. Edmund pressed closer.

“The house is old,” Eliza said quietly, “but it keeps watch. You are safe here.”

Edmund looked up. “It… watches?”

“Yes,” she said. “It knows who belongs.”

Relief and fear warred across Margaret’s face. “Thank you. I thought perhaps I imagined it.”

“You did not.”

Eliza rose. “Remain in your rooms today. If anyone knocks, anyone, call for a servant. Do not open the door.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Eliza turned to Edmund. “If you hear anything else, you come to me. Not to anyone else. Do you understand?”

He nodded, solemn. “Yes.”

She left them there, closing the door with care.

The corridor beyond lay silent.

A draft brushed her cheek, cool and intent.

“I know,” Eliza murmured to the empty hall. “I am listening.”

Then she straightened.

Thomas needed to know.

Before Ashwood decided what to test next.

Chapter Forty-Three

Eliza found Thomas in the far stable corridor, the one rarely used except for storage. He stood with his back to her, sleeves rolled above his forearms, bracing a beam beneath a warped loft board. A lantern burned beside him, casting a warm, uneven glow across his shoulders.

For a fleeting moment she let herself watch him.

Not because she needed confirmation he was safe, though she did. Not because she wanted privacy, though she did. But because the sight of him, steady and solid and wholly present, quieted something inside her she hadn’t realized was screaming.

She stepped forward.

“Thomas.”

He turned instantly always alert to her voice. Always.

“Eliza,” he breathed, as though relief had struck first and thoughts followed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to come.”

He straightened slowly, reading her face with the same deliberate care he used when assessing the health of an injured animal. His brow furrowed.