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Amelia jumped back guiltily. She hadn’t done anything wrong, the sketches had been lying on the desk, not locked away in a drawer, but still she sensed she’d trespassed on something very private and personal.
‘Thank you,’ she said, crossing the room and taking the clothes from Edward’s arms.
‘I will be downstairs in the kitchen. Once you’re dressed join me. It’s at the back of the house.’
‘I’m sorry...’ Amelia started to say, but Edward had already gone, closing the door behind him with a resounding thud.
Laying the clothes out on the bed Amelia was surprised to find the styles modern and the garments in good condition. She wondered why this strange, solitary man had women’s clothes stored in the house. She couldn’t picture him with a mistress squirrelled away somewhere—maybe a wife, someone mousy and quiet, but evidently not around any more.
Everything was too big on Amelia’s petite form, but the clothes were clean and dry, and vitally not covered in blood. She badly wanted a bath, a long soak in a deep tub to clean all the grime from her body and soothe her aching muscles, but she sensed she was as likely to get that as the possibility of a man walking on the moon. So instead she scrutinised herself in the small mirror hung on one wall and tidied herself up the best she could.
Grimacing as she noticed the slight swelling to one side of her face, Amelia touched her cheek gently. She could still feel McNair’s fist crunching against her delicate bones and quickly she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the memory of what happened next flashing before her eyes.
With great effort Amelia opened her eyes and tried out a breezy smile. She needed Edward to let her stay here in this strange, half-derelict house, at least for a few days. McNair’s death would have been discovered by now and someone would be hot on her trail. Even though Amelia knew she had committed an awful crime, she didn’t want to hang for it. She felt remorse and regret, but truly it had been in self-defence. Nevertheless she had fled the scene and, as a young woman with no husband and her father many thousands of miles away in India, Amelia wasn’t so naive to think she would get off lightly. No, the best course of action would be to hide away somewhere until her trail had gone cold and then find a way to fund her passage back to India. Her father would be irate, but he loved her and would make sure she was safe.
No one would think to look for her here in this house inhabited only by a reclusive bachelor. She just had to persuade Edward to let her stay for a few days, maybe a week. She wished she had something to offer, some practical skill that would make her indispensable, but her upbringing had consisted of painting watercolours, playing the piano and dreaming of a more exciting life.
Straightening her back, Amelia raised her chin and took a deep breath. She was Amelia Eastway. She’d never struggled to get men to do her bidding. Although she rather suspected she had never come across a man quite like Edward before.
* * *
Edward clattered around in the kitchen, his mood blackening with every second he couldn’t find the bread Mrs Henshaw had left him the day before. For three years he had lived undisturbed in his private refuge. Only Mrs Henshaw, his old housekeeper who had retired to a cottage in the village, came to visit him nowadays, bringing fresh food every few days and keeping the house from falling into complete disrepair.
Now his refuge had been invaded by an impish and vivacious young woman who had already started going through his private possessions. Granted the sketches had just been left lying on his desk, but when he’d first got into bed the night before he hadn’t expected to start the morning with a stranger in his bedroom.
He needed her gone, Edward decided as he located the loaf of bread and cut two thick slices. His reaction to her was uncomfortable and he knew it was more than a desire for a return of his privacy that drove that reaction. This morning as he’d woken to a warm, soft body in his bed he’d felt a primal stirring deep inside him. It was absurd and now Edward was even more determined to hasten Amelia’s departure from his house.
‘Do you live completely on your own?’ Amelia asked as she swept into the room. For such a petite little thing she had a way of commanding your attention. A breezy smile was affixed to her lips and Edward wondered again what pain she was trying to hide.
‘Completely. My old housekeeper visits twice a week to deliver some food and other essentials.’
‘You don’t go down to the village?’
Edward shook his head, trying to ignore her incredulous expression. He had ventured out in the painful months after the fire, but the looks filled with pity and the expressions of concern had soon put a stop to his trips to the village.
‘I have everything I need here,’ he said brusquely, trying to discourage her from asking any more questions.
Amelia wrinkled her nose and looked around.
‘Don’t you get lonely?’ she asked. ‘Or bored?’
‘No. Not everyone likes chattering away incessantly.’
Amelia looked at him as if she expected him to elaborate further.
He had his sketches and his books, he still kept an eye on the running of the estate, although he had a reliable steward who did most of the work for him. As for loneliness, it was a welcome penance for the guilt he felt for surviving the fire.
‘Maybe you would like a little company?’ Amelia asked, with a quick glance at his expression.
Edward’s first instinct was to march Amelia straight out the front door that instant, but then he paused. She’d survived the night and was back on her feet, there was nothing to hinder her departure today so he could afford to be a little more courteous.
‘I can be very good company,’ Amelia said.
She might think herself a woman of the world, this little minx, but he could tell straight away that she was innocent in many of her ways.
‘Company?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Immediately he saw the colour start to rise in her cheeks and her bottom lip drop slightly.
‘Not like...that is to say...’
‘I know we shared a bed last night, but I am not that sort of gentleman,’ Edward said.
‘I wasn’t suggesting...’
‘I’m teasing you,’ he said, knowing his serious expression didn’t quite tally with his words. Maybe he should stick to his more sombre demeanour.
‘Oh. Of course.’
Amelia drummed her fingers on the table as she struggled to regain her composure and Edward took the opportunity to study her properly. She was pretty, there was no denying it. Petite and slender with large brown eyes and soft blonde hair. The sort of young woman who would cause a stir when making her debut in society. His keen artist’s eye also caught details others might not notice: the nervous energy that stopped her from standing still for more than two seconds, the little pucker in the skin between her eyebrows that appeared when she was thinking and the way she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she decided what to say next.
She was nervous, Edward realised, more nervous than the circumstances should warrant. True, she was in a strange house with a reclusive man, but she’d survived the night unmolested—most young women would solely be concerned with how to leave with their reputations intact. Edward didn’t think it was her reputation she was worried about, there was something much bigger going on in Amelia’s life.
He thought back to the blood-covered clothes and the panicked state she had been in when he’d first found her almost collapsed in his sitting room. Last night she’d said she had been attacked and had fought back, but Edward sensed there was more to the story than that. For a few seconds he deliberated, wondering if he should delve deeper, find out exactly what sort of trouble Amelia was in, but he knew that would just prolong the time until he could usher her out of his life so he kept his mouth shut.
‘Maybe I could stay for a few days?’ Amelia suggested, looking up at him hopefully.
For all her beauty and feminine wiles, Edward could read her easily. She might think she was an enigmatic young siren, but every emotion was written across her face just as soon as she experienced it.
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ Edward repeated. It would be a bad idea. A terrible idea.
‘You can’t just say no. Why not?’
He guessed she was an only child. There was a sense of entitlement about her that suggested she had been spoiled most of her life.
‘I can. It’s my house.’ Edward grimaced and then relented. He was not a child and he would give her a proper answer. ‘I live alone. I like living alone, and in a few hours I will go back to living alone.’
Her face fell and he tried to soften the blow.
‘Besides, your reputation would be in tatters if you stayed here with me unchaperoned.’
‘What reputation?’ Amelia murmured under her breath. ‘I don’t care,’ she said louder. ‘I could tidy the place up a bit,’ Amelia suggested.
‘Do you have much experience at domestic chores?’
Amelia bit her bottom lip again. Edward felt the pulse of his blood around his body as his eyes flickered to her lips. ‘No,’ he said much more brusquely than he had intended, ‘I didn’t think you did.’
‘I could cook you a decent meal at least.’
Edward looked down to the two roughly cut chunks of bread and sighed.
‘I’m sorry, Amelia, but the answer is still no. After breakfast I will take you down to the village and you can catch the stagecoach to London.’
‘I don’t have any money.’
‘I’ll pay.’
‘What if I don’t want to go to London?’
‘Then you can get off at one of the stops beforehand.’
She fell silent, but Edward could see the cogs turning inside her head as she tried to think of another excuse not to leave. He wondered why she wanted to stay so badly and what it was she had been running from the night before. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, he once again caught himself and silently shook his head. It wasn’t his place to get involved. Later, when Amelia was safely on the stagecoach to London, he could brood over his lifestyle decisions, but the fact was right now he didn’t want to delve deeper into Amelia’s problems and if that made him unsociable that was fine by him.
Chapter Three (#u981fc757-1101-5e08-b40e-e95f7a2f510a)
Amelia fidgeted as Edward placed a thick coat over her shoulders. She didn’t want to leave. Somehow this strange half-derelict house felt safe, and once she was out in the real world again she knew it was only a matter of time before the consequences of her deeds caught up with her.
‘Maybe I could stay for lunch?’ Amelia suggested.
‘I don’t have any food in the house.’
The man was infuriating. Every suggestion she came up with he shot down with that calm tone of voice and unshakeable demeanour.
‘I think I left something upstairs.’ Amelia was beginning to panic now. The outside world was looming closer and she didn’t know if she could cope with another indeterminate period on the run.
‘You didn’t bring anything with you.’
Amelia scrabbled for something, anything she might have left behind, just to buy herself a few more minutes. She needed to think of a reason to stay, something that would convince Edward it would be in everyone’s best interests.
‘Please,’ she said quietly, ‘I can’t go out there.’
This quiet plea made Edward pause and for a moment Amelia thought he might relent.
‘Why not?’ he asked.
Amelia swallowed and bit her lip. She couldn’t exactly tell him the truth. Admitting she was a murderer would only speed her departure from the house, not prolong her stay.
With wide eyes Amelia felt the desperation and despair all come crashing together and knew she had everything to lose. If Edward insisted she leave, she had no doubt whoever it was that was chasing her would catch up with her within a day or two. She couldn’t sustain her progress any longer, she was exhausted and her feet covered in blisters. Here she had a chance at avoiding the hangman’s noose and she realised she would do anything for it.
Straightening her back and lifting her chin, Amelia looked Edward directly in the eye and smiled shyly at him.
‘If I stay we could get to know one another better,’ she said, trailing a finger up his arm.
Edward stood completely still, his eyes following the progress of her finger. The heat began to rise in Amelia’s cheeks, but she knew she had to give this her best shot. Humiliation and ruin was nothing compared to being found guilty of murder.
‘I promise I’m very good company.’ She didn’t even really know what that meant, but she’d overheard some of the less virtuous women use the phrase at a regimental party a few years ago.
Edward took her hand, removed it from his arm and let go, allowing it to drop back to her side. His face was stony and devoid of expression and his movements almost stiff. Amelia felt the flood of shame wash over her. In a way it would have been better if he’d laughed, at least then she would have known he wasn’t disgusted by her proposition.
‘It must get lonely, living here all by yourself,’ Amelia said, giving it one last try. She was desperate and she knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. Self-preservation was at the top of her list of priorities, she would have time for embarrassment and regret when she was safe.
‘Come on, otherwise we will miss the stagecoach.’ Edward said, ignoring her last few comments. He didn’t sound angry or disgusted, just tired and worn down, and for a moment Amelia wondered why he was so keen to get rid of her.
Amelia dawdled a little longer, wasting as much time as possible fiddling with the laces on the boots he’d found her and adjusting the bodice of her dress.
Eventually Edward sighed, gripped her arm and led her firmly out of the front door.
It was a cool day, clear and crisp after the storm of the night before. Amelia huddled into the cloak draped around her shoulders and reluctantly allowed Edward to lead her down the sweeping driveway.
‘I could tidy up your garden,’ Amelia said without much hope as they passed another overgrown flowerbed.
‘I like it this way.’
‘No, you don’t.’ No one could. The garden had potential, great potential, and Amelia could see a few years ago it would have looked much different. Someone had lovingly planned and planted, landscaped and tended, but it had fallen into ruin along with the rest of the house.
Edward shrugged again, that infuriating movement he seemed to favour when she challenged him about anything, and continued his steady pace down the driveway. Amelia glanced back at the house and found her heart sinking. Every step they took resulted in her being further away from the place that she’d hoped would be her sanctuary for a few days. She felt like turning and running back inside, slamming the door and locking it shut.
‘The village is only twenty minutes away,’ Edward said as they reached the wrought-iron gates Amelia had squeezed through the night before. ‘If you don’t walk at the pace of a lethargic snail,’ he added under his breath as she lagged behind, dragging her feet.
She watched as he tore some of the overgrown vegetation from the bars of the gates, frowning thoughtfully as he did so. Amelia wondered if he saw the house and gardens as she did, with all the cracks and faults, or if when he looked around he saw the place as it used to be.
As Edward pushed open the gates Amelia felt an icy stab of panic jolt through her body. Inside the estate grounds she felt peculiarly safe and now she was being asked to step over the threshold. Out here, in the wider world, who knew what awaited her.
As if sensing her reticence to step through the gates, Edward paused for a moment and looked at her with his searching brown eyes.
‘The road is clear,’ he said, ‘So unless there’s any further reasons you can’t possibly leave shall we be on our way?’
For a second she almost blurted it all out. It would be a relief to share what had happened with someone, to tell the whole sordid tale. She wondered how Edward would react, if he would respond kindly and calmly, or push her away. Maybe he would let her stay, take pity on her and agree to shelter her from the world. Or maybe he would turn her over to whoever was hunting her down.
Unconsciously she raised a hand to her throat, rubbing the skin of her neck at the thought of a noose tightening around her throat.
‘Nothing,’ she replied eventually. She would be safer if no one else knew what she had done.
‘The coach runs to London in one direction and Brighton the other,’ Edward said, disturbing Amelia from her thoughts.
She nodded absentmindedly.
‘Would you prefer to go to Brighton or London?’
Dear Lord, not Brighton, Amelia thought.
‘London. Definitely London.’
‘Do you have any family there?’
