Clandestine by Julia Ross Page A

comprehend why you didn’t do so. I think I must return to Brockton’s—”
    His glass shattered like hailstones among the dried flowers in the fireplace, soaking them.
    Fiery color flooded back into her cheeks.
    â€œI said that your cousin left town of her own free will, Mrs. Callaway,” he said. “I did not say that her reasons weren’t desperate, or—since she slipped away so secretly—that she might not still be in some kind of trouble. Rest assured that whatever uncomfortable truths may emerge, I shan’t abandon either you or your cousin. I give you my word on that.”
    The copper hair shimmered as she stumbled to her feet. “No! All of this was a huge mistake. I regret that I ever involved you. I must have been mad. Why didn’t you tell me the truth—about the bucket and the inn, at least—when we first met in the bookshop?”
    â€œWhy the devil should I? It was neither the time nor the place—”
    â€œNo, I suppose not.” Tears broke and fell at last, staining her eyelids. Her nostrils and mouth flamed scarlet. “After all, you had no reason to trust me. So instead you allowed me to run on and on, making a fool of myself. Just as Rachel did with you on the yacht—no, all of that was another fabrication, wasn’t it? Thank you for your efforts on Rachel’s behalf, Mr. Devoran, but I am happy to free you from any further obligation, and I think I must leave now.”
    â€œYou may not leave.”
    She grabbed the back of the sofa. Her face was as fiery as her hair, her eyes blazing.
    â€œI cannot stay here with you, sir!”
    â€œFor God’s sake, I’m not suggesting anything improper. You’ll be Miracle’s guest, not mine. I have no doubt that something odd is going on, and you cannot solve it alone. I just don’t believe for one moment that some terrible suitor is trying to force your cousin into marriage, or any other relationship.”
    â€œPerhaps not,” she said with icy dignity. “But I know as clearly as I’m standing here that she’s terrified of this man and that her fear is real. If you had read her letters, you would know that. She was excited—almost giddy—by February. Love does that, doesn’t it? Yet it all changed as she grew more and more afraid of him, until in the end she had to flee. Rachel may have misled me about some of the facts of her employment. She could never have pretended those emotions.”
    Had Theseus known this livid grief when he first gazed into the yawning mouth of the Labyrinth? The way was slippery and dark. Somewhere, deep in these elaborate recesses, the Minotaur lurked.
    â€œEven so, your cousin met no one who abducted her.”
    â€œBut why did she leave town without telling me? And where is she now? You’ve asked me to accept your word, but now you won’t take mine. Rachel fell in love with this gentleman, then later she rejected him. That was foolish; it wasn’t criminal. But now he’s persecuting her, and she’s terrified.”
    â€œPerhaps,” he said. “But unless your cousin has voluntarily arranged to meet someone, she’s alone now. If you’d allow yourself to be shown to a guest chamber, you may also sleep in solitary security until morning. Tomorrow is early enough to take the next step.”
    â€œThe next step?”
    Guy filled another glass and stared into the ruby liquid. He felt like a rat. “To track down the truth about this supposed Harvey Penland and his brood.”
    â€œNo, they must be real—Rachel received my letters there. But the address is in Hampstead, and I had no way—”
    â€œI understand. I’ll ride out there tomorrow.”
    â€œThank you. I’m sorry. You’re very kind.” She glanced down. “In my distress over your news, I was unfair. You did your best to spare my feelings, and you’ve been more than