Her chest tightened when he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked away from her to the window facing the park. She took a step forward. “Tell me.”
“One of your grooms was attacked.”
She inhaled sharply, reaching for the table to steady herself. “Who?” Her voice was strangled.
“Nat.”
Francesca’s fingernails bit into the wood of the table as she thought of the sweet, capable stable hand. “Is he hurt?”
“The footman, Peter, found him late last night with a knot on his head the size of an apple.”
Francesca’s legs almost gave way beneath her. She lurched forward and gripped the lapels of Winterbourne’s coat. “Why wasn’t I told? Has my father sent for Dr. Dawson?”
––––––––
ETHAN GLANCED DOWNat her, and she saw his gaze resting on her hands clutching his coat, but she couldn’t release him. She was half-afraid if she let go, she’d fall.
“The groom is fine, and the doctor arrived just before you came down to breakfast.” His voice sounded reassuring, but it wasn’t enough.
“But you said Nat was attacked. Who—”
Ethan’s grim look cut her off. “He was found behind the Roman wall.”
Shock stabbed through her, cold, painful as frostbite. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. She felt a quaking—shaking that once begun might never stop—threaten to erupt in her belly.
Winterbourne put one of his hands over hers. “Francesca?”
She nodded, unable to focus on him, barely able to make her body execute the movements she desired. “Was it—was it the same man?” Her voice was hoarse, a mere hum of sound.
“I don’t know.” His hand was warm over her frozen one. She glanced at his face and saw that his eyes were just as comforting. “I don’t see how it can be a coincidence.”
She didn’t, either. She felt dizzy, dangerously close to collapse, and her thoughts were rushing at her like water from a broken dam.
Hehad been there last night. Watching and waiting. Watching even as she and Ethan crossed the park on their way back to Tanglewilde. She felt a prickle on the back of her neck, spiny fingers tickling her just below the hairline. The terror, the panic threatened to take over, and she had to do something, anything to take her mind off it.
Nat.
She could make herself useful by looking after Nat.
Releasing Ethan, she pushed past him and ran to the door. He was beside her in an instant. “Where are you going?”
“To see Nat.” She grasped the door handle, but he put his arm out, holding it shut. She rounded on him, glaring.
“No.” Again that authoritative, uncompromising tone. She wouldn’t put up with it. Not with Nat hurt and in need of her.
“Get out of my way.” She shoved his arm, but he didn’t budge. “I want to see Nat.”
Winterbourne’s stare met hers, and he showed no sign of backing down. “It would be better if you waited until the doctor is finished.”
“I don’t have time—” she began to argue.
He cupped her chin with his hand, and she almost flinched at his touch. She couldn’t tell if he’d noticed or not.
“You have time.” His expression didn’t change, and she relaxed. He hadn’t seen her flinch. “I told you the boy is fine. He has a lump. That’s all.”
She turned her chin away from him, twisting toward the door. “I want to see for myself.”
“And you will.”
