Page 77 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“Good work, Agent,” Wethington nodded. “My carriage will take you to your Inn.”
It bothered Heath that he had to sit on his hands for three days where smarmy Hillbrook would move in to pester Lady Penelope, but he could not argue. This was solid strategy the Crown was applying, and he knew the benefits of sound tactics.
The Inn was a non-descript, wide, two-story building with white trimming around the front entrance and a flowery hedge at the perimeter. He was received and shown to a modest room overlooking the backyard.
By practice, his eyes spotted the emergency exits and points of entry and pushed the bed far against the wall. He felt better sleeping with his back to a wall.
Never leave your back to the enemy, his father Erasmus, or Lord Masseur, had told him at five-years-old. His father, for the most part, had been exactly how he had described him to Penelope. He had not been paternal in the strict sense of the word, but he had been protective and proactive. Having been in the Army from eight-and-ten to four-and-twenty, and then from five-and-twenty to three-and-thirty as an Agent for the Crown, his father had taught him how to survive.
Heath could count on one hand the times his father had hugged him; the day of his mother’s funeral,; when he had graduated from Eton and Oxford; and when he had been accepted into the Service. He had passed the year before.
Bracing his hands on the sill, Heath smiled softly. “I hope I followed your legacy, Father, but it is time for me to live for myself now. But…I don’t know if I can win her after everything falls out…”
Chapter 28
Heath. That was all Penelope could think about. It was only a day now since the constables had taken him away, and she was getting progressively worried.
How was he managing with those burnt hands of his? Was he well? Were the constables harassing him, pressing him to confess to a crime he had not committed? Or, were they listening with the ear of reason and were letting him go? Did she need to go tell the constables that he was innocent, even if she had to tell her secret of sneaking out to ride that night and seeing him in the stables?
His words from that night, when she knew that he knew she was behind him but still spoke to Duke. It was as if he was giving her the freedom to turn and walk away with no confrontations between them.
“I have a problem, my friend…I am…in love. It’s either that or I am hosting a brain parasite or…well, possessed. I am in love with Penelope…and I should not be,”Heath had spoken.
His words had felt so heartwarming that the emotions she had tried to deny for days came barging to the forefront—she loved him too.
“My Lady,” Martha’s voice was exasperated. “You need to eat something.”
The constables had been crawling over the compounds lands like scavenger dogs looking for a buried bone. They were everywhere, intertwining with the men from the village whom Edward had hired to rebuild the stables.
“Lady Penelope!”
Martha’s snap jerked her out of her musing as effectively as a slap to the face would have done. “Er…what?”
Rolling her eyes, Martha huffed. “You have not eaten anything of value in the last ten hours, My Lady. You must eat.”
“My stomach is not…” she cringed as the audible growl from her middle contested her near lie, “er…some tea and a cold-cut sandwich, thank you.”
Moving away from Martha, Penelope went to her bookcase and plucked out a novel.El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quijote de La Mancha,or provincially,Don Quixote. She had asked for the original Spanish volume as she thought that translation took away something from the original. It was the same with Dante Alighieri'sDivine Comedy.
Skimming over the words faintly, Penelope did not internalize even a word as her mind was still on Heath. The house could probably be burning around her and she would not notice on account of her worry.
Dropping the book, Penelope huffed and could not take the silence anymore and left the room. She should not be doing so, but she went to Heath’s room, looking around to make sure she was not caught. She entered his empty room and looked around in soft dismay.
This was such a bland space for someone so multifaceted. Heath had so many layers to him that she did not understand why he had not put any personal effects around. She ran her hands over the plain dresser and wondered if he had any books laying inside. Tugging the first drawer open it was empty and did so with all six.
She did not shy away at seeing Heath’s underclothes as she was familiar with her brothers. The last drawer was a bit stuck on being put back, so she knelt to lift the bottom a little and felt cool metal.
Frowning, she tugged the drawer out and flipped it open. Wedged in three corners were thin metal rods and she plucked them out. They had funny hooks at the ends, and she wondered what they were. Flummoxed, she pocketed them and set the drawer back in place.
Her absence had to be noticed by then, so she left and closed the door behind her. Halfway down the corridor she nearly bumped into a fearful Martha.
“My Lady,” she whispered while shooting anxious looks over her shoulder. “You should not be here.”
“I know,” Penelope said while walking past her. “Thank God, it was you and not Edward who came to see me.”
They got to the front room and went to the stairs just as Edward came out with a constable beside him. He shot a curious look at her while motioning to the man next to him. “Mr. Moore’s room is this way.”
Penelope felt nailed to the floor. Her heart rate flying up till it was only a continuous thrum in her chest. She spun on her heel, but Edward and the constable were already gone. By reflex, she grabbed her pocket feeling the thin metal rods there. If the constable was going to search Heath’s room, they would have found these and undoubtedly, the rods would be objects of suspicion. Had she just saved Heath again?
