Heiress On The Run

‘There was too much blood,’ she repeated.

Edward fell silent, seeming to realise if he pushed her much further Amelia wouldn’t be able to keep her tenuous grip on her composure.

‘What do you want to happen now, Amelia?’ Edward asked.

‘I don’t want to hang.’

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Amelia watched as Edward fought it and returned his expression to the more familiar frown.

‘An admirable ambition. I don’t think any judge would hang you.’

Amelia wasn’t sure. And even if she wasn’t sentenced to death, a long spell in one of the country’s notorious prisons was just about as bad as the noose.

‘It was self-defence. You’re a young woman of a good family and by all accounts McNair seems to be a known scoundrel.’

It sounded as though Edward was justifying handing her over to the magistrate to face the penalty for what she’d done.

‘It’s up to you, of course, but if you run then you will spend your entire life looking over your shoulder, wondering whether this crime will catch up with you.’

Amelia hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so preoccupied with the here and now, avoiding being apprehended for murder and getting as far away from the scene as possible, she hadn’t thought what her life would be like with this always hanging over her. She would always be a murderer. Even if she returned to India, to her father’s protection, she would never be able to undo what she had done.

‘I want to go home,’ Amelia said in a small voice.

She wanted her father, with his gruff voice and stiff embraces. She wanted the rolling hills of Bombay with the humid heat and monsoon rains.

‘To India?’

She nodded. He looked thoughtful.

‘You can stay a couple of days,’ he said eventually. ‘I will summon my steward and instruct him to make discreet enquiries, see what the state of affairs is with this McNair. We will make a further decision when we have all the facts.’

She didn’t know how he could reduce her momentous revelation to such a cool, calculating plan, but as his words sunk in Amelia felt a surge of hope blossom inside her. He was going to help her and, more importantly, he was going to let her stay.

With a yelp of relief Amelia sprang from her chair and launched herself across the room at Edward. He was stiff under her embrace and momentarily Amelia remembered how his body had moulded to hers the night before as she lay in bed shivering from the cold. He was capable of warmth and closeness, but he wasn’t comfortable with it.

‘There are conditions,’ Edward said quickly. ‘I don’t like to be disturbed. We shall take dinner together and nothing more. The rest of the time you may do as you please, but you will not venture into the East Wing. Is that clear?’

Amelia nodded, willing to agree to anything if it meant she could stay. For a while at least she was safe. She would remain hidden in this strange, half-empty house until they could be sure exactly what the situation was with McNair’s death. It was a reprieve, the sanctuary she had hoped for during her mad dash over the Downs. Of course it wouldn’t bring McNair back to life, wouldn’t change the fact that she was a murderer, but for now she would have to be content with safety over absolution for her crime.

Amelia pulled away, pausing as she got to arm’s length. Something made her stop, to hesitate. Her eyes met Edward’s and for a second there was a spark, a flare, between them. Amelia felt skin begin to tingle and her blood rushing around her body. She was aware of every tiny movement, every breath, every muscle. There was something captivating about this gruff, generous man, something not obvious at first glance, but hidden beneath his cool exterior.

Then Edward shifted and the moment was lost. Amelia stood, turning away to cover her confusion. She wasn’t sure what had just passed between them, but she did know she had no right to experience whatever it was. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her lips before turning back to face Edward.

Chapter Five (#u981fc757-1101-5e08-b40e-e95f7a2f510a)

As Edward’s pencil danced over the paper he felt all the tension and worry from the last couple of days flow from his shoulders. Drawing preserved his sanity, it was a hobby that had become much more. In the last few years he had lost himself in his sketches, picking up his pencils whenever his grief or solitude threatened to overwhelm him. Sometimes he drew from memory, a person from his childhood or scene from the village. Often he would sketch faces, allowing his pencils to flow over the familiar lines of the faces of the people he had lost over the years.

Today he was sitting by the window, drawing the view he could see. He’d needed this time alone, some space to regroup and sort through the events of the last couple of days. So he had retreated to his rooms soon after Amelia had finished telling him her story.

It was strange having another person in the house. Ever since he had dismissed the servants a few weeks after the fire he had lived alone. Edward knew he’d turned the house into a sort of mausoleum, a place of memorial for all that had he had lost. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest way of dealing with his grief, but he’d never felt he deserved anything more than the loneliness he had imposed on himself. Now, with Amelia’s presence, he felt uncomfortable and guilty. It should be Jane here with him, not some pretty young woman.

He didn’t believe for a second Amelia had actually killed this Captain of hers. A petite little thing like her wouldn’t be able to best a seasoned soldier with just a letter opener. Far more likely the scoundrel was still alive and hell-bent on vengeance. That was the real reason he’d allowed her to stay, to ensure she was kept hidden from McNair and whatever plans he had for the woman who’d injured him. Part of him had wanted to hold back and send her on her way, but he knew his conscience couldn’t bear the burden of another death.

So he had promised to look into Amelia’s claims and before he had retired to his rooms he’d walked to the edge of the estate and found a willing boy to deliver a message to his steward for a couple of shiny coins. Hopefully the man would visit later and they could get the business sorted as soon as possible.

Then life can return to normal. Edward grimaced. As if anything in his life could be termed normal.

Mulling his future over in his mind, Edward glanced out the window again, his hand with the pencil in falling to his lap as he saw Amelia pacing about the garden. As he watched he saw her heft a spade from the ground and start to dig.

For years the lawn had been overgrown, but covered in lush, green grass. Now it was beginning to be peppered with several muddy holes of varying depths all scattered about in front of the flower bed. It looked a complete mess.

It wasn’t the mess, however, that made Edward spring up from his chair, it was the realisation of exactly where she was digging. Now there was only a thorny tangle of overgrown bushes and Edward couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a flower, but he knew for certain the area she was attacking had once been the rose garden. The rose garden Jane had once loved so much. With a growl of displeasure Edward stood, pushing his sketches to one side, and quickly made his way downstairs. Out in the garden the full extent of the damage became apparent.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, not bothering to hide his exasperation.

‘Digging,’ came Amelia’s cheery reply.

She carried on plunging the spade into the ground, a look of steely determination on her face.

‘Why are you digging?’

‘To rescue the roses.’

She didn’t look up at him as she spoke, too intent on her task.

‘Stop,’ he said, adding a quiet ‘please’ as an afterthought.

‘Won’t be long now.’

She carried on wielding the spade.

‘Stop now.’

The hole in front of them got a little larger and Edward’s shoes were sprinkled with mud.

‘Stop,’ he bellowed.

Amelia halted, the spade frozen in mid-air, and looked at him with puzzlement.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong?’ Edward tried to keep his temper in check, but as he looked around at the devastation in front of him he lost the battle. ‘You’ve destroyed my garden.’

Amelia took a step back, but Edward couldn’t regret the volume of his outburst. She had desecrated the rose garden, the patch of ground he and Jane had spent hours planting and tending together.

‘It was a mess to begin with.’

Edward felt guilty. He knew he had neglected a lot in the past three years, allowing the house and gardens to fall into disrepair. He regretted allowing the garden he and Jane had planted so lovingly become this overgrown mess of tangled brambles, but that did not give Amelia the right to swoop in and attack it with a spade.