Page 83 of The Virtuoso
“Don’t run off.” Val gathered her back against him. “For now, I’m going to hold you and rest and consider options. You are not to worry about this, Ellen.”
“I do worry. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Arson? Destruction of property, attempted murder?”
“He must have known I was from home,” Ellen said, though Freddy was absolutely capable of taking a life—of taking three lives or even four. “Freddy is an opportunist. He probably stopped by to plague you or see how your progress was coming and realized the storm had left him a way to further torment me.”
“He’s been tormenting you for a while now, hasn’t he?”
“Since the accursed day I met him.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone. “You’ll be careful?”
“With you?” Val kissed her temple. “Very. With him, even more so. Now sleep, and let me do the fretting.”
As she dropped off, Val lay beside her, staring at the ceiling and then at Ellen’s face in the moonlight pouring through the curtains. She slept, finally, lulled by his caresses and his warmth. She’d offered him something, at least, and he was encouraged by that but also wary: Why would she offer only part of the story, unless she intended to take the rest of it with her when she left?
Twelve
“What a bloody perishing mess,” Nick observed, looking up at the roof of the hay barn. “And the damned thing would be half full.”
“We have more hay,” Val said. “It’s stored elsewhere, under tarpaulins, in sheds, and so forth. The good news is it looks like we’re in for a stretch of decent weather, and the supplies are on hand. Tell the men to bring in the rest of the hay now, and we’ll shift them to the roof this afternoon. If they work quickly we’ll have the hay here and the roof on by week’s end.”
“That’s ambitious,” Darius cautioned.
“But not impossible. The first hay crop is off the fields; the foals and calves and lambs are on the ground; the vegetable plots are producing. This is the lull in midsummer, when the rest of the corn is ripening and there’s no land to be worked daily. I’ll get the word to my tenants. You manage the crews.”
“And I?” Nick arched an eyebrow. “I’m to scamper back to Kent and take your dear Ellen with me?”
“Not yet,” Val said, not sure why he was hesitating. “You and Dare know more about estate management than I, and if you can spare another few days, I’d appreciate it.”
“I can stay.” Nick went back to studying the roof. “As you say, the land is quiet this time of year, and it’s easy to travel. Besides, I like seeing what you’re up to.”
Val’s smile was sardonic. “So you can report it to my family.”
“Speaking of which.” Darius pulled an envelope from his pocket. “Devlin gave this to the boys to give to you after he’d left. They were too busy yesterday, and last night…”
“Right. I told you not to wait up for me.”
Val took the missive with him back through the trees, reading while he walked. Nick was silent at his side, while Darius departed for the Bragdolls’ farmstead to start rounding up the labor needed to move the rest of the hay crop to the barn.
“What does he say?” Nick inquired as they reached the pond.
Val stopped and looked out across the water. “He says it took him two years to sleep through the night after Waterloo, and I’ve given my hand only a couple months. I am not to… despair.”
“Your hand?” Nick peered at Val’s right hand, which was holding the letter.
“This one.” Val held up his left hand.
“It appears to have all its parts.” Nick took Val’s hand in his and examined it. “Unfashionably tan, maybe a little callused, but quite functional.”
Val looked at his hand in surprise then flexed it. “It was sore. It’s been so sore I couldn’t play.”
Nick dropped his hand. “It doesn’t look sore, but not all hurts are visible.”
“No.” Val stared at his hand. “They aren’t. But this one was, quite visible, and now it’s… not.”
“Does it feel better?” Nick asked, puzzlement in his expression.
“It does,” Val said softly. “It finally does. I’ve still got twinges, and it will hurt worse by day’s end, but the mending seems to be progressing.”
