Chapter Four
Pippa’s heart began to pound as she remembered the look of utter disdain in Flaherty’s clear blue eyes.
How could she make him understand she had not intended to fire the weapon?
Surely he knew it had been an accident—though mayhap he did not.
His anger washed over her like a summer thunderstorm.
She had never been on the receiving end of such a look, never imagined a glance could communicate such feelings, stir up such emotions!
God help her, Pippa knew that glance would haunt her unless she could somehow make him see reason and change his mind.
The darkness in his gaze deepened until she knew without a doubt that Flaherty blamed her, but more…
He would never forgive her. He loathed her!
She fought back tears of anguish as she hurriedly made her way back to the sitting room, her mind plagued by images of the man’s grim expression.
The grievous injuries he’d sustained were all her fault.
Standing outside the room, she had heard bits and pieces of what the physician was doing and, Lord help her, what happened immediately after he’d finished.
The echo of Flaherty vomiting after his silence the entire time the doctor extracted the lead balls embedded in the poor man’s side was a sound she’d not soon forget.
She replayed the moment when she’d let fear take hold of her: her breathing became choppy, and her chest ached from lack of air, but she remembered wanting to shout at the time, “My grandfather’s blunderbuss is aimed at your stomach.
I’m not afraid of you!”—but she hadn’t. She had been terrified that the auburn-haired giant of a man was somehow connected to the man chasing after them.
Facing this man garbed in black from head to toe, his expression deadly, she’d had but one thought—protect Millie and her babe!
Then he’d stepped toward her, his mouth in a grim line, no emotion on his face.
Abject fear had taken hold of her. She’d stumbled backward, fallen, and a heartbeat later, the gun went off.
Why could he not understand that she did not know him, and was not about to trust him?
She had witnessed the months of veiled threats Millie had received on the heels of the missive informing her that Captain Roarke Trentchester was dead.
No other details—not where he’d died, or how it had happened.
With both Millie’s and Pippa’s fathers in London attending a session in the House of Lords, Pippa had had her hands full trying to assure her friend that her blackguard of a brother-in-law had no power over Millie.
The hardhearted reprobate had no right to threaten to take Millie’s babe the moment it was born—nor should he have expected that she would simply hand her babe over because Roarke’s elder brother ordered her to.
Trentchester must be mad!
Pippa wanted to contact their fathers the moment the threats began, but Millie had talked her out of it.
She should not have listened to Millie’s pleas, but at the time, capitulating had been the only choice she had.
Her dearest friend for as long as she could recall had pleaded with her in between casting up her accounts—due to her pregnancy—and bouts of weeping, as she grieved deeply for the loss of her husband.
Millie’s fears had taken root inside of Pippa and mingled with her own!
When pressed, Pippa had felt she had no choice but to acquiesce and agree to remain silent on the matter…
Until that last threat had been delivered in person.
Pippa had never felt such a degree of revulsion toward another person until the moment Trentchester barged into Millie and Roarke’s cottage.
She trembled as the memory assaulted her.
Such evil threats levied against a woman so close to term were unconscionable, and had undermined Millie’s confidence that she would be protected as long as she stayed with Pippa.
In the beginning stages of labor, wild with fear and grief, Millie had believed that the monster would be waiting outside of the cottage, listening…
waiting for his chance to snatch her babe the moment she gave birth!
Their fathers would have banded together to protect Millie.
If Parliament had not been in session, they would have been home in the Lake District.
But both gentlemen were actively campaigning for those brave soldiers and sailors who had been injured and retired on half pay, and the widows—like Millie—of those who had gallantly served in His Majesty’s forces and given the ultimate sacrifice.
Pippa wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, wishing she’d remembered to grab one of her father’s handkerchiefs when she disguised herself for the journey to the Borderlands.
Before Lords Haybrook and Stanhope had left for London, Millie had pleaded with her father to meet with the head of War Office to find out details of her husband’s death—no matter how grim.
Finally, he—and Pippa’s father—had relented.
Lord Haybrook was acquainted with Earl Bathurst, the Secretary of State for War and the Colonies, who was head of the War Office.
Pippa’s father counted Viscount Palmerston, the Secretary at War, who was in charge of running the War Office, as a good friend.
Both had promised to uncover the circumstances surrounding Roarke’s death, while collecting information pertinent to their campaign for better conditions for those who had been discharged, and were on the verge of poverty.
Initially Pippa had urged her father to the point where he demanded to know what the devil was going on.
Her reply echoed in her aching head: “If I had not given my word, Papa, know that I would confide in you.” She knew her father would understand and expect no less from his daughter. His word was his bond.
Their fathers had had more than one conversation about the lack of information surrounding Captain Trentchester’s death, and combined with the fact that nothing had been forthcoming—no rumors from soldiers who had been on the peninsula where Trentchester was purported to have been—that finally swayed the men.
Pippa had her suspicions as to why they were being kept in the dark.
Though she had not confided in her father, the unanswered questions had led her and Millie to the conclusion that Roarke had been involved in a highly dangerous mission for the Crown.
They suspected—though it had never been confirmed by Millie’s husband—that Roarke was spying for the British.
Pippa’s heart ached with the worry that poor Millie would never know the truth of what happened. The only consolation, and it was indeed a small one, was that perhaps her husband would be posthumously recognized for his meritorious service.
“Are you all right, Miss Stanhope?”
Pippa spun around with her hand to her heart.
She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t realized she was standing in the middle of the hallway.
From the expression on the footman’s face, he must have called her name more than once.
The large trays in his hands must need to be returned to the pantry next to the room Flaherty was in.
“Er… Yes. I am, thank you.” Looking about her, toward the door she and Millie and her babe had entered through, she decided it was best not to expound on her thoughts or feelings to yet another veritable stranger. “Forgive me for blocking the way. I must return to the baroness and my friend.”
The young man’s expression only changed for a brief moment, but Pippa could not decide if it was concern for her, distrust—or something else.
Had rumors been flying around the manor house that quickly?
Dear Lord, did members of the baron and baroness’s staff believe that she had willfully pointed a rifle at Flaherty and shot him?
Her belly ached, and her head throbbed in time with her swift footsteps, as she rushed back to the sitting room.
Her concentration must be on Milie and her babe—and finding out if Millie’s mum’s friend, Old Ned, was still the stable master here at Summerfield Chase.
One of them should have asked Flaherty about it as soon as they heard the name of the estate.
But neither one felt safe enough to do so—yet.
Later, much later, Pippa could clarify the connection and take the blame for not telling Flaherty about it.
She had far more to worry about right now than what others thought or said about her.
As she passed the kitchen, she returned Mrs. Green’s greeting and walked through the connecting door to the main part of the house.
When she noted there were four footmen lingering in the marbled hallway between the entryway and the sitting room, she realized that the baron was not taking any chances with his pregnant wife’s safety.
An uneasy feeling settled into her bones as Pippa wondered if the baron believed their story, of if he believed she had deliberately fired upon his guard.
She silently prayed, Lord, please grant me the strength to protect Millie and Roarke!
Nodding to the footmen as she hurried past each man, she was relieved no one tried to stop her. In fact, each man, in turn, inclined his head. Their deference gave her hope.
Pippa was about to reach for the door when one of the two men standing guard on either side of it moved to open it for her. “Allow me, Miss Stanhope.” She tried for a smile, but was not quite certain she managed it, and thanked him before darting into the room.
The expression on Millie’s face, and that of the baroness’s, had her stopping in the middle of the room. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Millie was just asking about our stable master, Old Ned.”
“Did she?” Pippa feigned disinterest.