Chapter Thirty-Four
After less than two hours in the gibbet, Mr. Smith was taken from the grounds, his final destination a cell in Sifton. Smith lost a great deal of his cockiness during his confinement in the swinging cage. A charge of attempted murder does that to even a hardened criminal.
Mr. Johns, the apothecary, arrived at Falstone shortly before Smith’s departure and declared himself so impressed with Adam’s work that he suggested he forsake his role as duke and go into medicine.
Persephone, he predicted, would be fine.
She needed several days in bed to recover and would require several weeks off her feet to prevent the wounds from reopening.
A cane, Mr. Johns said, would suffice after a week had passed.
Mother expressed her relief at the diagnosis, though Adam noticed she avoided Persephone’s room almost religiously. She was not unconcerned nor uncaring, simply unable to maintain her countenance when faced with the prospect of another’s pain and suffering.
Deep in a laudanum-induced sleep, Persephone did not even stir when Adam stole into her bedchamber late that night.
The roles, he thought ironically to himself, had reversed.
He was now the interloper turning to her for reassurance—not because of the pack, nor its noises, but because he could not free himself from the sight of Persephone kneeling on the ground, face twisted in terror, her very life on the line.
He sat for a while on the edge of her bed before lying down beside her. She made not one of the noises he had grown accustomed to hearing while she slept. The laudanum pulled her too deeply into oblivion.
Adam let out a difficult breath. After weeks of worrying that she would leave him, he’d nearly lost Persephone that day. She had almost been taken away from him because a scoundrel decided to hurt her in order to get revenge. No doubt Smith thought it a fair trade.
Are you a great deal different? a voice in Adam’s head inquired.
He’d used trickery to lure Persephone away from her family, to convince her to accept him based on as little information as he could possibly provide.
He intentionally made his offer in a way he knew she could hardly refuse.
He’d heartlessly presented an exorbitant amount of money to a family that had always been a breath away from financial ruin, knowing their desperation almost guaranteed their agreement.
And why? To upset a cousin he didn’t care for. There’d been no thought of her feelings nor the feelings of her family. He’d felt no concern over what she was sacrificing, what the decision would cost her.
Her family missed her. One need only watch the constant barrage of letters she received from them to realize as much. She herself had admitted that she missed her family. Adam had even heard her, in the midst of her tears, declare that she wished to go home.
Adam turned on his side and looked at her. She was battered and bruised and, if not for the laudanum, would have been in too much pain to even sleep. That is what living with him had done for his Persephone.
She would be better off away from Falstone. She would, no doubt, be happier. He couldn’t bear the thought. Despite his determination otherwise, Persephone had become essential to him.
He shifted closer to her and gently laid his arm across her middle, careful not to disturb her blankets. He leaned in to her ear. “I am sorry, Persephone,” he whispered to her as she slept. “But I cannot let you go.”