Chapter 31

Rolland stared into the mirror at the burn on his shoulder. It was healing well, but the skin would never be the same. Would Theresia be repulsed if she saw it? Unless she'd peeked behind the curtains that night, she had seen only his bandages.

Granger applied ointment to the area and covered it with fresh linen strips, effectively cutting off the subject of Rolland's thoughts.

"Thank you, Granger."

"Nothin' to it. 'Night, Cap'n."

Rolland blew out the last candle and collapsed onto his bed. A yawn escaped, and he burrowed under the covers. It had been a good day. The duchess had set up lawn games, and everyone had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Lewis had been a bit annoying with his obvious fawning over Miss Yearsley, and Father had been a little grumpy, but no day could be perfect. There had been no thought about war or responsibility or what the future would bring.

Theresia had insisted on feeding crumbs to the birds and even the squirrels, and the animals had flocked to her like she was their princess. He'd even stolen her hand when they'd been the last two to return inside. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Sleep was going to come easily tonight. The last thing he thought of before drifting off was Theresia.

A loud noise made him shoot up into sitting position. Was that a gunshot? A scream echoed from somewhere outside his room. Catapulting himself from his bed, he called out to Granger.

The closet door flew open, and Granger stumbled out. "I heard it too." He tossed Rolland his breeches.

Rolland caught them and shoved his legs into them. "Grab my pistol."

With haphazard movements, he pushed his nightshirt partially into his breeches. Granger rushed to him, pistol in hand. Rolland accepted it and raced from the room.

His eyes adjusted enough to see the door across the corridor from him wide open. No! His instinct was to dart into his parents' bedchamber with blind fury, but training told him to do otherwise. He moved silently across the corridor, anxiety for his parents pumping in his veins. Slipping into the room, he kept his back along the wall, his gun at the ready.

This was what they had been trying to avoid. But they had failed.

He sensed movement by the bed, and he pointed the tip of his gun toward it. He knew what he had to do, but identifying the person had to come first.

A strike of flint sparked a small glow into the room, revealing his father's form. Rolland swallowed, relief soaring through him. He lowered his gun only a fraction and continued to scan the dark room. The candle his father lit revealed his mother sitting up in bed, her face blank with shock. Thankfully, no one else was in the room.

Rolland dropped his gun hand to his side. "Father, I'm here."

"Rolland!" Father jumped, just seeing Rolland for the first time. He marched toward him, the candlelight dancing in every direction. "That was close. Too close."

"What happened?" Marcus appeared at the door, short of breath, followed by Granger and Lewis.

"I couldn't sleep," Father explained. "If I hadn't been on my way to the door when it opened, I wouldn't have surprised the intruder. He grazed me with a shot, but it could've been worse." He held up his arm, and Rolland saw a dark patch soaking through his father's linen nightshirt.

"Ring for the housekeeper to look at your arm, and I'll have the house searched." Marcus darted from the room.

Granger went straight to tend to his father's wound. His experience from the war made him a better choice than any housekeeper. Lewis lit a few more candles. His mother took a good look at his father's arm and started to weep. Rolland's pulse was still pounding recklessly in his veins, and he wanted nothing more than to chase down the culprit responsible. The duchess stopped in long enough to say she would keep the others out of the family wing, before disappearing herself.

Theresia, however, appeared just before the door shut completely. Her robe was tied tight around her waist, and her hair hung over her shoulder in a braid. "Captain?"

She had no idea how relieved he was to see her in one piece. "Everyone is all right," he said.

She cast one swoop of the room with her eyes and stopped on his mother. "I'll fetch her something to drink."

Her thoughtfulness impressed him. "Lewis, do you mind helping Marcus search? I'll stay here. And, for heaven's sake, find out where Michael is. He should've been standing guard in front of this room, but I haven't seen any sight of him."

Lewis gave a salute. He looked tired. They probably all did. But Rolland had never been more grateful to have these men on his side. His parents could've been killed tonight, and the reality of the danger became more real than ever.

It was not an hour later when Lewis returned. Theresia had taken over caring for his mother, and Rolland and his father had whispered in the corner one theory after another. Rolland was anxious for answers. He and his father pulled Lewis aside. "What news do you have?"

Lewis scrubbed a hand down his bloodshot eyes and prickled face. "The search of the house has been completed, and the staff is continuing to comb the grounds."

His father set a hand on Lewis's shoulder. "Anything?"

"It appears we invited a bunch of hunting enthusiasts to our party. Every male guest is in possession of a gun, but all swear to have been asleep. No one saw anything—not a servant, not a mouse."

"And Michael?" Where was that infernal footman? He ought to know something or at least have a valid reason for not having remained at his post.

"Missing."

Rolland looked at his father, his face possibly paler than before. "Thank you for your help tonight, Lewis," Rolland said. He pulled his father toward a chair. "We'll get to the bottom of this, but for now, you and Mother need to sleep."

His father rubbed his arm a few inches below his injury. "Do you think that's possible?"

Rolland inclined his head. "I will personally stand guard outside your door."

"As will I," Lewis said.

"Nonsense." Rolland quickly dismissed the offer. "You already look like the walking dead, and I am wide awake. Sleep while you can, and then I will let you take my place."

Lewis's quick agreement was a testament to just how tired he really was. Rolland bid him good night and turned to pull Theresia away from his mother. She had his mother's hand cradled in her own and was whispering soothing words.

When had the two formed such a friendship? And how had he dismissed how nurturing Theresia could be? He had focused so much on how determined and spirited she was, but her kind nature might very well be her dominant trait. His mother had been working herself into a frenzy before Theresia had returned with a drink, but somehow Theresia had managed to calm her within minutes.

"Lady Glass," he said, coming up beside her.

"Yes?"

"We are going to let my parents rest now."

Theresia patted his mother's hand before releasing it. "Good night, Lady Barrack."

"Thank you for staying with me," his mother said. "Rolland, isn't Lady Glass a wonder? I don't know what I would've done tonight without her."

"I'm grateful to her too." He bent over and kissed his mother's forehead before whispering, "I know what you're doing."

She put her arms around his shoulders. "Is it working?" she whispered back.

"Don't get carried away."

She chortled and swatted his good arm. "It's too late where that's concerned."

For her and him both.

He shook his head and led Theresia to the door. Once in the corridor with the door closed, Theresia turned to him.

"Did you discover anything?"

He glanced down before answering. "Nothing."

She leaned her shoulder against the wall. "I'm sorry, Rolland."

He shrugged.

"Will you be all right?"

He met her gaze, those tired golden eyes reaching through him and offering comfort he'd not experienced for some time. When was the last time someone had asked if he was all right? Really all right? "Theresia, I—"

"Rolland!" Marcus called from down the corridor. He was jogging toward them.

Rolland straightened. "What is it?"

Marcus reached them and took a deep breath. "It's Michael. We found him."

"Where?"

"Behind a hedge that runs along the side of the house. He's dead."

Theresia gasped beside him. Without thinking, he took her hand. "Was he shot?"

"Knocked out with something, and by his position, I assume he was pushed out of an unused guest room window."

Theresia squeezed Rolland's hand, and he tightened his grip around her fingers.

"I thought he'd fallen asleep somewhere." Shame filled him. "I will see that he gets a good funeral and his family is compensated."

Marcus clapped Rolland's arm with his hand, his expression heavy. "I appreciate the offer, but this is my doing. I put too much trust in Michael; I should've arranged for a second man to aid him. I won't make that mistake again. I've already spoken with two footmen to keep watch for the remainder of the night."

"Neither of you are to blame," Theresia said. "This is the murderer's fault. Do not let Michael's death rest on your conscience."

Marcus seemed to see her for the first time. "I appreciate that, Lady Glass. But there is a great deal weighing on me, regardless. Which is why I must recommend that you leave Ashbury Court."

Rolland's fist curled tightly again around Theresia's. "Do you think it unsafe for her here?"

Marcus eyed him. "One cannot predict the mind of a madman, especially if he is a loyalist to somewhere other than England. Lady Glass claims Vienna as her home. We've inadvertently painted her as an Austrian ally. It's country against country at this point, and the thirst for an empire is strong. Do you see why I worry?"

"There's been no real proof to think this spy targets me," Theresia hissed, letting go of Rolland's hand and crossing her arms over her chest. "I knew the risk of coming, and I won't be frightened away now."

Marcus dipped his head. "I won't force you to leave, but I couldn't stay silent on the matter either."

Theresia seemed to understand, and some of the ire left her face. Marcus retreated back toward the staircase, where he'd likely continue his search for answers, leaving the corridor eerily empty in his wake.

"Theresia," Rolland hedged.

She stabbed her finger into his chest. "I won't leave without my vase."

He caught her hand, holding it there. There was fire in her eyes, no doubt brought on by fear and her relentless determination. How could he take away her chance to find the one thing she wanted more than anything? "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

"You won't?"

"Where would you go, anyway?"

Her eyes darted back and forth between his own. "I have friends..."

She likely meant Mrs. Bedrich, but he cared too much for her safety and well-being to send her back to a crowded tenant house in England. No one deserved to live like that. He didn't have all the answers yet, but neither did he believe Theresia was in as grave a danger as Marcus said. "I'm glad you have people to turn to, but at least let me be included on that list. If there is a time that you are threatened, I have my own resources."

"Rolland . . ."

"My parents' estate in Birmingham would be a safe option, and I have a hunting lodge not far from here, in York. No one would know if I sent you there."

"Which would suit if I were your mistress, but I am not. You have no reason to feel responsible toward me, Rolland. I came here of my own free will."

She was right. He had no claim on her, nor would he let her or anyone else think she was his mistress. But he couldn't ask for her hand yet, not when he couldn't even reveal her true identity. And not when his father was so obsessed with the idea of him marrying Miss Shields. This was not the night to broach the subject with him either. But what if something changed and Marcus's predictions were right? "Theresia, listen. You can stay, for now. But the vase is no good to you if you are dead. If there is a connection to it and our traitor, like I think there is, and someone connects the two, it could mean the end."

She chewed the corner of her mouth, likely biting down a thousand arguments. He knew this was hard for her. It wasn't any easier for him. The last thing he wanted was to put her in greater danger.

"All right." She took a deep breath. "Let's do as you said yesterday at breakfast and take it one day at a time."

Relief filled him. He needed all the days he could get with her. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her slender fingers. "Agreed. Now, go to your bedchamber and make sure to lock your door."