Page 96 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

The air chilled suddenly, sharp enough to raise the hair along Thomas’s arms.

A gust swept the lanterns again, sending shadows slashing across the rafters.

Ashwood paused, unsettled. Just briefly.

Thomas saw it. And something inside him shifted—an advantage he hadn’t expected. The awareness settled through him slowly, steady as the lantern glow, until even the cold in the stable no longer felt entirely hostile.

Ashwood recovered quickly, smoothing his coat. “There’s been unrest, you see. Accusations. Missing children. Loose tongues.”

“Missing persons,” Thomas repeated.

“Yes,” Ashwood said casually, as though commenting on the weather. “A child from Thornhaven. Disappeared. Terrible business. Rumor suggests he might have been seen near Hartleigh.” He tilted his head almost sympathetically. “Strange, isn’t it?”

Thomas felt the accusation beneath the softness. He met Ashwood’s gaze directly.

“Very strange,” Thomas said. “Especially since you seem well informed of Thornhaven matters that occurred only last night.”

Ashwood’s smile faltered.

A hairline crack. A silent fissure.

Thomas held the gaze one beat longer, letting the implication settle. Not spoken, not provable, but unmistakably understood.

Ashwood stepped back, smile too tight now. “See that you remain available, Grey. I may have tasks for you.”

“I am always available for matters concerning Hartleigh,” Thomas replied. “And those in its care.”

A subtle emphasis. Not lost on either of them.

Ashwood’s eyes hardened. “Of course.”

He turned to leave—

—and the stable door slammed shut before he reached it.

Not wind. Not chance.

Ashwood jerked, startled, then quickly masked it with irritation. He reached for the latch, struggled a beat too long, then wrenched it open with more force than necessary and strode into the yard without looking back.

The door thudded behind him. Firm. Final.

Thomas exhaled only when the hoofbeats of Ashwood’s retreating horse faded into the distance.

The house had chosen sides.

Thomas did not hesitate to do the same.

Chapter Forty-Five

Eliza did not return to her rooms after the confrontation in the West Wing. She couldn’t. Her nerves were stretched taut, dread and determination knotted together.

Instead, she sought the only place that felt honest tonight, the music room.

The hearth offered low warmth, barely enough to illuminate the carved mantle. She lit no lamps. Hartleigh had dimmed itself to match her mood, its shadows gentle rather than oppressive. She stood near the window, palms pressed to the cool glass, watching the path Thomas would take from the stables.

The house seemed to wait with her. Every creak of timber felt deliberate, every shift of the wind against the shutters precise.

She closed her eyes briefly. Please let him come back unhurt.