Wild Heart

  Chapter 16

  Blood. She’d seen blood on his hands. Blimey, not again. Ella raced out the door, her frantic gaze searching the drive for Leo. She had to find him, before he did something else he’d regret. But where would he go? She closed her eyes and focused on the man. A warm burst of anxiety and anger hit her, making her weave on her feet.

  Without pause, she picked up her skirts and rushed down the steps. Dashing around the corner of the house, she saw him. Her knees went weak with relief. Glowing golden from the afternoon sun, he sat on a bench in the rose garden. His elbows rested on his knees, his face in his hands, like an angel mourning the sin of humans.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she thought he whispered.

  Ella knelt beside him, his despair washing over her in a thunderous wave. For her own comfort and for his, she placed her hand on his arm. “Leo, what happened?”

  He shook his head, but didn’t speak. Ella took her lower lip between her teeth. Helpless to comfort him, she let her hand fall away.

  “Leo,” Lord Roberts called out.

  Ella stumbled to her feet, wishing she’d had more time to speak with Leo.

  Slightly breathless, Lord Roberts stopped near them. “Mr. Convey has agreed to forgive this indiscretion.”

  Leo jumped to his feet, his eyes flashing with fury. “He killed them.”

  With the help of his cane, Lord Roberts shuffled closer. “Leo, you saw his back—there was no mark. What more do you want? It was years ago. Don’t you think…perhaps you could be wrong?”

  “It was him.”

  Lord Roberts sighed. “You practically pummeled the man to death. Think about it, Leo. What if he’s not the man you seek? It was years ago!”

  A sickening thread of doubt wound its way through Ella. Blimey, what if Convey wasn’t the man? What if Leo was wrong? Until now, she’d never even contemplated the idea. She shook her head, as if that could sweep the disloyal thoughts from her mind. No, she trusted Leo. He needed her.

  Lord Roberts reached out to his grandson. “Leo, this has to stop. If you want to run this estate, you need—”

  Leo jerked away. “Merda, is that all you think about? Your family name or this bloody estate? My parents were murdered. Your very own son!”

  Lord Roberts’s nostrils flared and his hands clenched at his sides. “I told him not to go, that no good would come from traipsing around the jungle.”

  Ella’s gaze flew to the man. How could he say such a thing? Leo needed support, not condemnation.

  Lord Roberts shook his head, his frail body sagging. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over, Leo. They are gone, but you are still here and able to take your father’s place.”

  Leo released a harsh laugh and spread his arms wide. “You think I want to take his place? You think I’ll stay here? You think I care about any of this?”

  Dread twisted Ella’s belly, and she sank onto a vacant bench. She knew what would come, the harsh words that would be said and she knew things would never be the same between grandfather and grandson.

  Lord Roberts paled slightly. “Yes, I would think so. This is your heritage.”

  “This isn’t mine. My life ended in that jungle. My life ended when I was forced to kill men to ensure my own survival.”

  Ella gasped, unable to prevent the sound from escaping her lips. Dear Lord, she could feel the honesty in his statement. Leo had killed.

  He turned on her and sneered. “Yes, kill. I’ve killed, Ella. How do you think I escaped my days as a slave? Do you still think I’m honorable? Do you still think I should stay here and do my duty?”

  “The past doesn’t matter,” Lord Roberts tried again.

  His attention swiveled back to his grandfather. “Maybe not to you, but the past is all I have. I care nothing for this place. It means nothing to me, and no one here means anything. But hear me now, my lord, my parents’ death is not over.” He stalked away from them, disappearing into the trees, and Ella could only watch him go, her heart broken and shattered at her feet. She meant nothing to him.

  Lord Roberts collapsed onto the bench, sitting next to Ella.

  “He didn’t mean it,” Ella rushed out, even as she fought her own tears. Where was the thoughtful Leo she’d come to know? The man who could ease her worries with just a touch? Had he ever really existed?

  Lord Roberts gave her a soft smile. “I fear he did mean what he said, Ella.”

  “No, I’ll go talk to him. I’ll—”

  “You’ve done enough. You’ve tried. We’ve all tried. Take the day off, my dear. Do what you will. If you stay the rest of your six months…If Leo stays, I fear you’ll have a difficult time ahead of you.”

  If Leo stays. An angry part of her insisted she not care. But she did care…damn it all. She cared much, much more than she should.

  “My lord, can I help you inside?”

  “No, go now. Visit your friend in the cottage. I need to be alone.”

  Ella hesitated only a moment. Finally, she nodded and moved woodenly down the path, eager to see Fran and, at the same time, feeling guilty about leaving. At the gate that led to the road, she turned and studied Lord Roberts. Huddled on the bench, he looked like a shell of the man she’d seen that first day here, with his merry, but fierce eyes. She sighed and started down the lane. He’d been so sure about Leo then. Now, he looked utterly defeated.

  Was it over? Everything Lord Roberts had worked hard for? Everything Leo deserved? Would he give it up and move back to Italy? Would he…leave her? Helplessness washed over her in a wave that sent burning tears to her eyes. Blindly, she made her way down the road.

  Free of the house and its confusing occupants, she had the sudden desire to run. She hiked up her skirts and bolted. Her heart raced, the air in her lungs burned, and still she continued to run. Birds darted past her, hares jumped from the brush, startled by her flight. She didn’t care; nothing mattered.

  Even after all the hurtful remarks, a small part of her still wanted to rush into the woods and find Leo. She’d felt the pain. Under her own hurt, she’d felt his pain like a knife tearing out her gut. He’d lashed out at them in frustration. She knew that, but it didn’t make his words less painful. Tears dripped from her lashes only to be brushed back by the wind. She rounded a corner, and Fran’s small cottage came into view, a haven amongst sorrow.

  Her sobs increased as she pushed through the front gate and rushed up to the door. She bent over and gasped for air, the sting in her side almost unbearable. Unable to stand, she slumped onto the front stoop and rested her head on her knees. If only she could stay here with Fran forever and never go back, never see that blasted castle again.

  Leo’s face flashed to mind. No one here means anything to me.

  Her heart clenched. Did he mean it? Did she mean nothing to him? No, she couldn’t believe he meant the words. She wiped her face with her sleeve and stood. Fran was here. She’d know what to do.

  Sniffling, Ella knocked. No one answered. She pushed the door wide and peeked into a small sitting room. “Fran?”

  Ella stepped into the cottage, taking in every detail from the fine crack in the ceiling above her to the vase of daisies on the small mahogany table. This would be home. So quaint and beautiful, so much larger than she expected. Yet…it didn’t feel like home. Why was that? Surely it would as soon as she moved in. Only a few more months. How would she bear even a day without Leo? How would she bear it when he left?

  She moved numbly through a large kitchen and tried to imagine herself baking biscuits, but the image wouldn’t come. Out the windows, she could see Fran resting in a chair. Stifling a sob, Ella pushed open the back door and raced across the lawn. At the sound of her approach, Fran turned.

  “Ella!” Fran jumped from her chair and wrapped her thin arms around Ella’s waist.

  “Fran, how are you?” Ella asked.

  Fran pulled back, and there were tears in her large brown eyes. “So wonderful, especially now.”

  She took E
lla’s hand and led her toward the chairs. “Ella, did you see the inside? Could you ever imagine we would own a home like this? Lady Buckley would be furious with envy. And look!” She pulled her toward a back gate. From the stone wall she could see the ocean, brilliant blue-green waves sparkling below.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ella replied.

  “And all because of you, Ella. It’s exactly what you said we’d ’ave. Exactly.”

  Ella smiled, but she couldn’t prevent the tears from pooling in her eyes. From the far corner of the garden, a soft growl erupted. Before Fran could see her tears, Ella swept toward Charlie’s cage.

  “Is he doing well?” she asked, reaching inside to pet the animal.

  Fran rested her hand on Ella’s shoulder. “Oh, Ella, what is it?”

  Ella could merely shake her head as Fran led her to a chair. She collapsed into the seat and took the handkerchief Fran pushed into her hands.

  “You…you must think I’m mad,” Ella sniffled.

  Fran shook her head. “It’s ’im, isn’t it?”

  Ella wiped her face. “Him?”

  “Yes. The man you’re teaching. Blimey, Ella when you wrote and told me you were teaching a man, well, I about fainted dead away, I did.” Fran poured a cup of tea. “And now…well, I’ve ’eard the rumors, of course.”

  Ella blew her nose. “Rumors?”

  “That he’s more animal than man.” She held up her hand when Ella leaned forward, her lips parting in outrage. “Now, calm down. When I got your letters, I knew the rumors weren’t true. And when I met ’im—”

  Ella stiffened. “What? You met him? When? Where?”

  “He stopped by this morn.”

  “This morning?” she whispered. “But why?”

  “Apparently, to check on me and Charlie. But, to be ’onest, I think it was more to learn about you.”

  She straightened with interest. “Really?”

  Fran nodded.

  She didn’t know how she felt about that, but blast it all, if warmth didn’t seem to seep into her body and wrap around her heart.

  “So, are you going to tell me what ’appened?” Fran asked.

  “Oh, Fran, everything is such a mess.” She stood and paced the area between their chairs. “Everyone thinks he’s insane, and he doesn’t even want to stay here. He only came to England to find his parents’ murderers.”

  “He seemed sane enough to me.”

  “He is. It’s just that…well, if he doesn’t conform they’ll never accept him. He’s obsessed with this murder that happened so long ago.”

  “Seems anyone would be, if they’d seen their parents killed, don’t you think?”

  Ella collapsed into her chair and twisted her handkerchief. “Of course.”

  “And, well, as far as conforming goes…I just can’t imagine that man conforming to anyone or anything, and you know, I kind of like ’im that way.”

  Ella smiled and nodded. “Me too.”

  “Ella,” Fran said, leaning forward. “I’ve known you twelve years now. You’ve always been loyal and an excellent judge of character. You know the real ’im. I’m thinking you’re all he’s got. Are you still a loyal friend, Ella?”

  Ella felt Fran’s words like a slap. She tilted her chin. “Of course I am.”

  “Well then.” Fran grinned. “Seems to me you should get back to that castle.”

  Steeling her courage, Ella slipped into the house through the kitchen. The cook merely glanced at her, then went back to rolling out dough. No welcoming smiles or greetings. Everything was so different here compared to Lady Buckley’s where, even under Buckley’s intense attention, she’d befriended every servant and cook. Would she ever get used to the aloofness? She supposed if Leo didn’t return, she wouldn’t have to.

  Ella swallowed hard and scurried up the servants’ steps. She’d made a promise to Lord Roberts that she would help Leo any way she could. Once that was accomplished, she could leave. She paused outside her bedroom door. If this place was so cold and unfeeling, why did the thought of leaving make her heart weep?

  A thump resounded from inside her room. With a frown, Ella pushed the door wide.

  “Hello?” She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the area.

  Skirts, bodices, and stockings lay scattered across the floor. Her bedcovers were heaped in a pile in the corner of the room.

  Confused, Ella froze. “What—”

  Movement in the far corner caught her attention. She swiveled her head. A man stood near the fireplace, a black mask covering his face, a brown book in his hands.

  Fear sliced through Ella, holding her immobile. She knew in that moment she’d die if she didn’t run. The man dropped the book with a thud that shook her from her frozen state. With a growl, he bolted toward her. Ella spun around and burst toward the door.

  If she could just reach the hall, a servant might hear her scream. His bulky arm wrapped around her waist, and he slammed her back against his chest. She parted her lips to scream. His hand slapped over her mouth, trapping the cry. Fear mixed with panic, making her body tremble with uselessness.

  Think, Ella!

  But thinking remained impossible, and so she merely reacted. Ella kicked and wiggled in his grasp. He jerked her into the room and slammed the door shut with his booted foot.

  No! No, she could think, she could get out of this. The castle was full of people; surely someone would hear her scream, if only she could free her mouth.

  The man squeezed her waist until she could draw little air, let alone speak a word. “You’ll be quiet, if you know what’s good for you. Now tell me where the map is.”

  Ella shook her head, her eyes wide. What could he possibly want? Her lungs burned, and blackness taunted the corners of her eyes. She’d pass out soon, and then…then it would be over.

  He jerked her hard against him. “Don’t lie.” He removed his hand, giving her the opportunity she needed, yet she could barely get enough breath. She sucked in a great gulp of air.

  “I swear,” she breathed out deeply. “I swear I don’t know anything about a map.”

  He spun her around to face him, his stale breath fanning across her face. “I have ways of making people talk.”

  “Ella?” A soft knock sounded on her door. Berta’s voice. Oh God, Berta would be hurt if she came inside.

  “Hell.” He pushed her away, and Ella fell hard to the floor. Before she could call out for help, he rushed to the window and jumped over the ledge. Ella stumbled to the windows. Already, he was halfway down the trellis. The door creaked open, and Ella spun around to see Henry’s wife standing there.

  “Get help,” she cried out.

  Berta’s gaze swept over Ella. “Dear Lord, what is it? Are you well?”

  Ella’s lips parted when a niggling doubt crept to mind. What if Henry was responsible? What if Berta was responsible? Leo didn’t trust his own cousin; why should she?

  “Your room,” Berta exclaimed, pressing her hand to her lips. “What happened?”

  “Someone was here,” Ella admitted, realizing she had to give some sort of explanation.

  How she wished Leo were here so she could ask him what to do, how much to admit. Sudden tears stung her eyes. Blast it, she didn’t have time to cry, but the fear was still there, so real, so cold.

  “What?” Berta swayed as if she might faint, and clasped the bedpost for support.

  Ella searched the woman’s face for pretense, but she saw only concern. The fight went out of her, and she sank against the wall. “I only just arrived, and there was a man in my room. He left, went out the window when you knocked.”

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Berta pulled the bell cord and rushed into the hall. “You there, get Lord Roberts, immediately,” Ella heard her call out.

  Suddenly, Berta was back, wrapping her arms around Ella, like Ella was a child. “It’s all right, my dear. We’ll find the man. Come with me to my room, and we’ll get you some tea.” Numb, Ella allowed the woman to drag her down the hall.
Where was Leo? Was he, too, in danger? Would it be odd if she sent a servant after him?

  “What’s happened?” Lord Roberts demanded as he came puffing up the steps.

  “My lord, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ella said, worried over the man’s pale complexion. “There was a man searching my room. He went out the window.”

  He pressed his hand to his heart. “Did he harm you?”

  Ella shook her head.

  “A servant?” Berta whispered.

  Ella was barely aware of their conversation. The blood seemed to rush from her head, and she was suddenly overcome by the situation.

  Berta clutched her arm. “Are you well?”

  Ella nodded. She couldn’t talk at the moment. There was too much; her mind was swirling in a dizzying whirl. “I just need to rest.”

  Lord Roberts nodded. “Of course. Berta, take her to your room. Don’t worry; we’ll find the man.” With that said, Lord Roberts rushed back down the steps and Ella was swept into Berta’s room. It was a sunny place of yellow and gold walls, but it didn’t feel warm or comforting.

  The woman led her to the settee and pulled the servants’ bell. “It’s impossible to trust anyone. Even the servants.” The woman sighed and studied Ella. “Some biscuits and tea will be just the thing.”

  But Ella was barely aware of what she said. A map. Why hadn’t she told Lord Roberts that the man demanded the location of a map? She pressed her hands to her head, so confused her temples throbbed. She didn’t know who to trust anymore. The attack in the garden, the man named Convey, and now this? Somehow it had to be connected, and everything seemed to point to Leo’s past.

  Childish laughter echoed from the hall. Henry’s son suddenly burst through the bedroom door with a grin on his round face and a doll hanging from his hand.

  “Give it back!” Grace cried out and rushed in after him.

  Stanley raced around the bed, out of arm’s length.

  “Give it back, dear,” Berta pleaded. But when the boy continued to taunt his sister, Berta merely collapsed on the settee next to Ella. “They are precious but rather exhausting. Oh to have a governess.” She fanned herself with her hand.