“How did you know I was in trouble?”
“I wasn’t quite asleep yet when I heard a thud coming from your room, and I correctly assumed something was wrong.”
“Thank you for coming when you did.”
Leaning back, Oliver met her gaze. “You are my family now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” He paused. “Please say that you believe me, Emme.”
“I do.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Tears started rolling down her cheeks as she admitted, “I have never been so scared in my life. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t have let that happen, my dear.”
“Why would he attack me?” she asked, her words turning into a sob.
“I don’t know why, but I intend to find out.”
Glancing over at the window, she revealed, “I believe he came through my window. I don’t remember opening it before going to bed.”
Oliver tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “The bricks outside your window wouldn’t be too difficult to climb.”
“Now you say something,” she said lightly.
“We should get you out of this room,” he encouraged as he rose. “You will sleep in my bedchamber tonight.”
“I couldn’t possibly—”
He spoke over her. “Nonsense,” he said, offering his hand. “You will sleep in the bed, and I will sleep in the chair near the fireplace.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” she replied, rising.
“Frankly, I don’t want you out of my sight tonight,” Oliver asserted.
Her eyes turned downcast as she said, “I must admit that I feel the same way.”
“I am pleased to hear that.” Oliver slipped his arm over her shoulders, tucking her into his side. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Tea would be nice.”
“I shall see to it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t look at him,” Oliver instructed as they passed by her attacker’s sprawled-out body. “He isn’t worth your notice.”
They stepped into Oliver’s room, and he led her towards the four-poster bed. “I want you to rest until the tea arrives.”
She sat down on the bed. “Thank you for tending to me, Oliver.”
“It is my pleasure,” he replied. “Now, I’ll go see about that tea.”
Emmeline watched as Oliver walked over to the door, opened it, and provided instructions to the footman in the hall.
After he closed the door, he approached and sat down next to her on the bed. “What else do you require?”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Just don’t leave me,” she murmured, her words coming out as a plea.
He kissed the top of her head. “I won’t, at least until the constable arrives,” he said. “But I will make sure your lady’s maid stays with you then, so you won’t be alone.”
“That is most thoughtful of you,” she acknowledged before retreating to her own thoughts.
“Have you seen him before?” Oliver asked as the constable crouched next to the body.
“I have,” Constable Philmont replied. “His name is John Shaw, and he lives in the village.” He hesitated. “At least, he did.”
“Do you know of any reason he would attack my wife?”
“I do not,” the constable responded. “He worked odd jobs and spent entirely too much time at the pub, but he had never been in trouble with the law before.”
Oliver glanced over at the window, then said, “Her Ladyship believes he came in through her window.”
“Perhaps, but have you considered that someone intentionally let John into the manor?”
“I have,” he replied, his jaw clenched. “I also can’t help but wonder if my wife was attacked as retribution by the smugglers.”
“That is a possibility, as well,” the constable agreed, rising. “With your permission, I would like to interview the household staff and see if anyone lets something slip.”
“That would be wise,” Oliver commented. “Would you like me to join you?”
“Your presence may very well intimidate them, and I want to lure them into a sense of security,” Constable Philmont explained.
“Will you report your findings back to me?”
The constable nodded. “I will.”
“My wife mentioned that she spoke to her lady’s maid about the smugglers,” Oliver revealed. “You may want to speak to her first.”
Glancing down at the body, the constable said, “It was most fortunate for your wife that you had a pistol close at hand.”
“It was.”
“You have remarkable aim, especially considering the circumstances.”
“I am quite proficient with my pistol.”
The constable eyed him curiously. “You continually surprise me, milord.”
“That is not my intention,” Oliver said, his voice gruff. “I had little choice but to kill my wife’s attacker.”
“I am not contending that. I am merely trying to make sense of what happened here this evening.”
Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. “From what my wife told me, John was hiding under her bed and attacked her once she stepped out of bed.”
The constable walked over to the open window and looked out. “It would be quite difficult to climb these bricks with boots on, but it wouldn’t be impossible.”
“If one of the servants did let John in, then someone would have seen him making his way up to my wife’s bedchamber.”
“Most likely,” the constable remarked, turning back towards him. “Where is your wife now?”
“She is in my bedchamber with her lady’s maid.”
“Would you mind if I speak to her?”
Oliver frowned. “Is that truly necessary?”
“It is,” the constable replied, “but I assure you that I will attempt to be delicate with my questions.”
“See that you are.” Oliver walked over to the door that divided their bedchambers and knocked.
“Enter,” he heard his wife say.
He opened the door and was pleased to see that his wife was resting in bed. She had her back against the headboard as she sipped her tea. Her lady’s maid was sitting on a chair that had been repositioned next to the bed.
“The constable would like to speak to you,” he informed her. “Would that be permissible?”
Leaning over, Emmeline placed her cup and saucer onto the side table. “I assumed as much. You may send him in.”
Oliver gestured to the constable as Emmeline’s lady’s maid rose and went to stand against the far wall.
Constable Philmont stepped into the bedchamber and gave Emmeline an apologetic look. “I
