The chatter in the servants’ hall died as he entered the room. Scents of boiled mutton and cabbage greeted his nostrils, but he paid no heed to the growling in his belly. He could not stomach any more derision from his fellow servants, even to satisfy his hunger. With a polite nod to the gaping maids and dumbfounded footmen, he walked toward the stairs.
“Russell.”
Smythe’s voice stopped him. Avery shut his eyes but did not turn.
“Yes?”
A chair scraped back and a gentle, fatherly hand lay on Avery’s shoulder. “Sit. Eat. You must be weary.”
Avery waited a heartbeat for a blow to fall. It didn’t. “May I ask why?”
The hand disappeared, but Smythe did not. The man’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “Mackenzie left not long ago, raving about Prachett, the mills, and your involvement. We had assumed the worst about you, and Mackenzie fostered that bad opinion. We’ve wronged you, my lad, and we would make it right.”
The kindness nearly felled him. He took a deep breath and faced Smythe.
“I thank you, sir.”
Smythe held his chair out for him. Mrs. Harper brought a wet cloth for him to wipe his hands and face, and Cook served him a double portion of mutton. Teresa promised to tend to his wounds once he’d finished his meal, and Henrietta looked at him as if he were an avenging warrior returning home.
The delicious food was tinged with both acceptance and bitterness.
He’d found his place only to have to leave it behind.
Twenty-Eight
Leah was limp. There was no strength left in her body. It had all been wrenched away by a euphoric glee that stemmed from not being tied up and smothered by a burlap bag anymore. When the duke had removed that barrier between her and the world, she’d been so overcome that she’d hugged him.
He’d patted her back, comforting her. He really was a good man.
“Thank you so much for saving me,” she said. “I don’t know why they took me, but I’m so grateful you came.”
“It is my fault, dearest Miss Ram.” He patted her hand. “I should never have allowed you to wander the paths alone. It was foolishness.”
“Yeah, it was pretty stupid of me.” She rubbed at her wrists, taking in her surroundings. “Granville, what men do you have with you?”
His brows arched curiously, but he answered, “My driver, the tiger, and two footmen.”
She couldn’t help but be disappointed. Where the hell was Avery? “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little faint. Can you take me back to Lady Chesterfield’s?”
“Of course,” Granville said tenderly, and snapped his fingers. A man leaped forward and fetched the carriage, which had been parked just out of sight.
Granville handed her into the carriage, and she settled herself on the plush seat. As soon as the conveyance rumbled to a start, she lay her head back against the cushions.
This wasn’t right. None of this was right. Why had those guys taken her? She didn’t have anything they could want.
Avery’s absence wasn’t the only thing that smelled funny. That Scottish accent had been really familiar. She frowned. Wasn’t the stable master Scottish? The one that had tried to get fresh with her that time?
Mackenzie—that was his name. Could his have been the voice that had stopped the jerks from violating her? On the one hand, she was really grateful he’d stopped them. But on the other, what was he doing there at all?
The carriage’s sudden stop scared the crap out of her. She jumped, clutching at her thundering heart to keep it from leaping out of her chest. Sunlight streamed through the carriage windows.
Oh. She’d been asleep.
“Why have we arrived at Granville Place?” The duke’s expression was cross as he called up to the driver.
“My apologies, Your Grace. I had thought…”
“We must return Miss Ram to Lady Chesterfield’s.” Granville turned back to Leah. “I do apologize, my dear. However, since we’ve arrived at my home, is there anything that you require?”
Leah shook her head quickly. “No, thank you, Granville. I need to get back to Lady Chesterfield. I’m sure she’s really worried.”
Granville nodded. “Of course. But allow me to fetch a horse for the return journey. I must go and speak with the magistrate as soon as possible regarding this matter. Those responsible will be punished.”
“O…kay.” He had descended the carriage before she could get the whole word out.
She watched as he entered the house. A glimpse down the street caught an unexpected sight.
Avery, wearing a coat and hat and bearing a leather bag similar to the one he’d given her, was walking away from Granville House.
She’d hit the pavement before her brain caught up. Hauling her wrinkled and dirty skirts up, she took off running toward him.
“Avery,” she called, heart pounding with more than exertion. She hadn’t realized how desperate she was to see him. He was her sanity in this freaking crazy world. “Avery, wait!”
He didn’t turn, only walked more quickly away from her.
“Oh, the hell you are,” she snarled and put on a burst of speed. She caught him as he rounded the corner, grabbing his arm and pulling until he stopped.
“What is wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me?”
He didn’t look her in the eyes, just kept staring straight ahead.
“My apologies, Miss Ramsey.”
“Wait, where are you going?” Her heart thumped even louder now. Something was wrong—horribly, horribly wrong.
“That is none of your concern.” His soft reply pierced her through.
She stared up into his face, trying to understand what was going on. But no matter how she framed it, it didn’t make any sense.
“You owe me an explanation.”
He laughed bitterly. “I have done enough to you. You have made your decision, and I was a fool to ever think otherwise. I wish you a wonderful marriage.”
He bowed curtly and walked away before she had a chance to form a reply.
“Avery,” she whispered. No, no, no! What was she doing? How could she let him walk away?
She picked up her skirts to run after him again. “Avery!”
Her shout was drowned out by the hoof beats of an approaching horse. She glanced over her shoulder, and the sight brought her to a halt.
The carriage and the duke were there behind her. “Come, my dear. Amelia is beside herself with worry.”
With a reluctant glance toward Avery, Leah allowed the duke to help her into the carriage.
Lady Chesterfield clucked like the chicken she’d probably murdered to have such a fluffy feathered gown. The duke left after entrusting Leah to her doting chaperone’s care, promising to call on them tomorrow.
“I have never been so worried in all my days, dear Leah. Are you harmed in any way?” Genuine concern threaded the woman’s words.
“I’m fine.” Leah sniffed. “I’m just tired. Do you mind if I have a bath and go to bed?”
Lady Chesterfield’s pudgy hand patted Leah’s cheek. “Of course, my dear. But I must say how dashing the duke appeared carrying you into the house!”
“Yup. Totes dashing.” Leah’s dry tone sailed right over Lady Chesterfield’s head.
Leah trudged up the stairs, looking forward to no less than thirty-six hours of total oblivion. And then she’d figure out how the crap to get back into Granville House and activate the mirror to get her home.
Man, she was going to need weeks of therapy to get over this so-called adventure.
Hushed voices from inside Leah’s bedroom piqued her interest. She slowed, reaching for the door handle but hesitating as she tried to place the voices inside.