Chapter Twenty-Nine

S imon entered the solicitor's office in high spirits. As quickly as the man had summoned him, he could only imagine that things had gone smoothly with Henrietta and she had capitulated to his demands. It didn't take long for his spirits to flag. The grim-faced solicitor appeared quite put out.

"What's happened?"

"Your aunt is with child," the solicitor replied. "And there is naught to do now but wait. Perhaps the child will be female and it will have no bearing on your claim to the title. But if she gives birth to a son—I do not need to tell you how disastrous that would be for you."

Simon sank into a chair. "With child? It cannot be my uncle's! He was impotent!"

"Who knows that? Who can testify to it? Only his wife, and it is in her best interest to say nothing!"

Simon cursed bitterly. "I'm a dead man. Ardmore will not give me any more time. If I cannot repay him, it will be the end of me... and you. You're just as indebted to him as I am!"

"You think I do not know that?" the solicitor snapped. "There is one possibility... women lose their babes all the time. Just because she's with child is no guarantee. If Lady Ernsdale were to suffer some sort of accident... perhaps a fall?"

"It won't be easy. She's moved in with her sister and that criminal! I'll not be able to get to her."

The solicitor shook his head. "Not you. But a servant perhaps? A maid or a footman who could be swayed to see our way of things?"

Simon nodded. Remembering the maid who had been Hettie's constant companion and a constant thorn in his side, he smiled. The girl's mother and sister lived in town. The mother was not well, and the girl—she was young. Very young. Not even fifteen. Foster would do anything for her mistress, true. But would she do those things if it meant the life or death of her family?

"I'll take care of it," Simon replied. "By the end of the day, we'll have the situation in hand."

*

Hettie was beside herself with worry. And guilt. If Joss was in danger, she had placed him there. She'd gone to him for help. Demanded it, in fact. Now, she had no notion where he was or what sort of trouble he might have encountered. Simon had proven himself to be above nothing when it came to getting what he wanted.

Pacing the length of her room furiously, she could feel the hot sting of tears. It wasn't sadness, though she certainly felt it. It wasn't anger, though that was present as well. It was frustration. Frustration because there was nothing she could do besides wait. Whether she waited until Joss finally—hopefully—returned or whether it was until Vincent could provide some information about what had occurred, then she was well and truly stuck.

"There is no hell greater than uncertainty," she muttered.

Just then, her chamber door opened and she jumped, startled by the unexpected intrusion. But her shock gave way to relief so quickly that she nearly collapsed from it. Joss stood in the doorway, his large frame filling it entirely. And while he was a bit dirty and a bit banged up, he was very much alive and he was there with her. There where she could touch him and know that he was real and safe and hers. Hers.

Hettie had thought she had not made a decision regarding her future. It would appear there was no decision to be made at all. Had it ever been in doubt that she would concede to his will in the matter? Not really. Certainly not to anyone who knew either of them.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Jumped by two brutes in the tavern and whacked over the head with some sort of crock by a serving wench. Knocked over the head, bundled off to a cellar, and locked in... until Bates showed up. I think the good Inspector has had a change of heart where you're concerned. He admitted that you are no longer his lead suspect, but that is not the same thing as not being a suspect ad all," he warned. "You still need to lay low for a bit, keep the gossips and well-meaning gawkers away."

"But it's a step in the right direction, though it clearly came at a high cost," she observed.

"I've had worse. And not so very long ago," he replied. "Now, Hettie, I mean to have a bath and get myself clean. And when that is done, we are going to have a long talk about what we need to do to secure your future—our future."

She nodded. That was perfectly fine with her. The prospect of losing him altogether had brought home to her one very key fact: she'd likely fallen in love with Joss the first night he'd plucked her from the filth of the Neckinger River. And maybe he didn't love her in return, at least not yet, but someday he would. And until then, she'd love hard enough for the both of them. "I'll be waiting."