“Lady Worsley, I cannot stay here past when I am well enough to leave.”
“You may call me Harriett. I think we are past formalities. We are friends—more than friends, I think. You were almost my daughter and a sister to Angela. I think we all understand better what happened to you.”
“I must apologize. I cannot imagine what you think of me with the horrible things I said of my husband. I should not have spoken so.”
“Were they true?” Lady Worsley arched a brow.
“Yes. I would not lie. But still—”
“Pish! Your husband has much to answer for in his treatment of you,” she said sharply, but then softened her voice. “Your mother would have been horrified. As her very close friend, I cannot feel less.” She paused and looked out the window for a moment. “Maggie, you are a strong young woman, and your loss is keen. But God willing, you will be blessed with more children. My heart grieves the loss you suffered, and the toll it took on you. But think of us as an extension of your dear family.”
“Thank you, Harriett.” Maggie tried to smile and realized her face was a little numb. She felt around and touched the plaster.
“Dr. Perth put two stitches there.” The older woman dipped her head, acknowledging the injury. She reached into her pocket. “If you need it, I have the laudanum he prescribed. The cut was deeper than we first believed. I imagine it pains you.”
“No, I do not deal well with the drug. I imagine things. This morning, my husband’s visage floated in front of me. Gertie is arranging for a bath. If I have help, I think that would be wonderful.”
“Yes. I have assigned Gertie’s niece Anna to you. She will be here shortly to assist.” Lady Worsley began to arrange the flowers. “I hope you like winter roses. I thought the dried heather would add variety.”
“Thank you. Once I bathe, would it be permissible to explore the library? I should think a couple of tomes would provide good entertainment. And the window seat might be comfortable to read upon.” Maggie pointed to the ornately carved white window seat with pink velvet cushions.
“That sounds like an excellent idea, and it will give you a bit of exercise.” The older woman finished arranging the flowers and rang for the housemaid. “They will pick up your dishes. I am sure the water will be up shortly. We have nuncheon in two hours. I think that might have been the last real meal you had yesterday. Please join me in my parlor if you are feeling up to it.” She leaned over, gave Maggie a soft kiss on her head, and left.
Maggie set the food tray on the floor. “Please do not bother this, Shep. I cannot believe chocolate would be good for you.” She put a napkin over the empty cup and walked hesitantly to the window in her night rail. “I will take you to the garden for a walk shortly. I am quite sure Cabot would not want that duty…” Her voice trailed off as she moved closer to the window. A tall, large man with dark clothes and dark hair stood behind the rose bush garden, staring up at the house. She moved back, hoping she was not seen.
She needed to alert someone. Slade had followed her here.
* * *
Max felt himself relax the closer he and Harlow got to Hambright Manor. The sun was out, and as winter went, this day was warmer than most—and dry. Surely, that was a good sign. He felt sure that Meg was being cared for. His mother held a soft spot for her and would see to her comfort. Losing Maggie Winters to Lord Tipton had devastated his mother and sister nearly as much as it had him.
He and Harlow agreed they needed at least one stop along the way. The horses needed rest, food, and water, and the two of them needed to eat and discuss strategy. The two men knew the Red Lion well, and they requested their usual table toward the back corner, away from the direct heat of the brick fireplace and the bar.
A saucy red-headed waitress flounced their way and greeted their table with a smile and a wink. “Will you be having your usual, my lords? It’s been a while since we ‘ave seen ye here.”
“Thank you. Yes, Tilly. We were out of the country for a long time, but we are home now.” Harlow met her smile with one of his own. “Include a mug of ale, if you please. And the same for Lord Worsley,” he added.
“Thank you, Lord Harlow.” She curtsied quickly and scurried back to the kitchen to get their food and drink.
Worsley nodded and smiled knowingly. “That woman would walk on hot coals for you, Harlow. She wants you!” He leaned over and gave his friend a pat on the back.
“Please. I am very careful not to lead her on. She tends to a lot of needs here, if you catch my meaning. I never take my amusement in the local pubs.”
“Yes, that is true. We saw what happened to that kid—Tom Bonner, remember him? He was at Eton with us. They sent home him with the pox. Not something you want to learn about in school.”
“Agree! I recall the poor chap.” Harlow nodded. “Makes me shudder.”
“I hope Meg is still resting. She was pretty battered. I cannot see how she could be taken seriously as a suspect. The man was cruel to those around him.”
“He had that reputation, yes.” Harlow grimaced. “I sent word for Dean to request Mr. Nizal to meet us at your home post haste. The man is a well-respected investigator and we consider his men top-notch. Most importantly, I believe he would know this man, Slade. He knows of Tipton, and he
