Page 36 of Wolf's Bane
Chapter 10
Solenne
Boxon Hill
Marechal House - The Summer Solstice
Heavy poundingsounded at the front door.
Solenne stilled, the cup of tea paused inches from her mouth, and listened. Cook placed a comforting arm around the maid, who whimpered. Travers reached for the wooden bat and looked at the ceiling, like he could divine who was at the door. Aleksandar, Luis, and Godwin had left for the stone circle, the epicenter of the nexus, as soon as the sun neared the horizon.
They were alone in the house.
Tension crackled through the air.
The pounding continued.
Travers looked to Solenne, waiting for instruction.
“This is unprecedented,” she said. No one came to the house during an event. Solenne and the staff behind left alone had never been an issue. No one left their homes if given the choice.
“If they require aid, we must assist,” Travers said.
“Yes, you are correct. Answer the door. I will be right behind you.” She set down her teacup and reached for her silver knife. The blade wasn’t much, but a good hit in a vulnerable spot would slow down anything, man or beast.
Up the stairs, Travers carefully approached the door. His hand paused on the bolt. “Declare yourself,” he ordered.
“Open the door, man,” a masculine voice said.
Travers looked to Solenne, who shook her head. She did not recognize the voice.
“I said declare yourself. Who are you? I am armed,” Travers said, his voice losing the familiarly cool and polished tone Solenne knew.
“Jase Parkell,” the man answered, muffled by the door. “I have a man. He’s unwell.”
“You are unknown to me, sir,” Travers replied, looking to Solenne as if for guidance.
“Colonel Chambers’ nephew,” she whispered. After his disgraceful behavior at the dance, the man must be in dire need to seek assistance from the Marechals.
“Please. This is the closest house. My uncle’s house is too far away,” Jase said.
“Then I suggest your hurry on to your uncle’s.” Travers was having none of it. Gossip traveled fast in the village, and no doubt Travers heard about Jase’s incivility.
“I found a man in the woods. He’s delirious. He keeps saying he has something for Luis.”
“Miles,” Solenne gasped.
“It could be a trick,” Travers murmured. “Mr. Bartram knows better than to wander the woods during an event.”
Solenne nodded. Miles did know better, but if he were distracted or focused on a project, he might misjudge the hour. She adjusted her stance, wishing she wore something more substantial than a plain work dress and leather-soled slippers on her feet. If this was a trick, she and Travers would give a rousing good fight, but she’d move better in trousers and proper shoes.
Jase stood at the threshold, propping up Miles, who had an arm slung over his shoulder. Jase wore a ludicrously plum coat and a waistcoat in a matching print, expertly tailored and without a doubt expensive. His silk shoes were caked in mud, ruined. He had not dressed for a casual romp through the countryside.
“Miles!” she exclaimed, pushing her suspicions aside. “Is he injured? What happened?”
“I am unsure. I found him wandering in Uncle’s property. He can’t tell me a blasted thing. Apologies for my language.”
No obvious blood or injuries, although Miles’ eyes appeared glassy and his skin slick with sweat. She pressed her palm to his forehead. “He’s feverish. Bring him through to the drawing room.”
