"Why is he still here?" Susanna paced the length of the great hall where Bessie and Hendricks had joined her. Cook remained in the kitchen, preparing supper. Her two servants had pleaded with her to stop pacing, to find something to do to take her mind off Orlando, but she could not. "What's he doing now? Has he moved yet?"
"Not yet, mistress," Hendricks said.
Orlando's reaction to being locked out of Stoneleigh was not the one she'd expected. Her initial fear that he would be furious had quickly vanished, along with her worry for her household's safety. He was capable of breaking her door down if he wanted to get in and harm her, yet he did not.
Holt is an assassin. I hired him to kill you.
She knew it was the truth. It made sense. His lies, the hidden knife, the fighting skills he'd displayed against Monk. And then there were the attempts on her life—the blade thrown from the trees as they drove home from church, and the intruder several nights ago. If the note spoke the truth, and she knew in her gut that it did, Orlando must have orchestrated those events which meant he was working with someone. But who?
And why?
All these things crowded her mind, yet she also knew that he could have killed her many times over. They'd been alone together often and he'd not so much as laid a finger on her except in passionate embrace.
Her stomach rolled. She wanted to be sick. She didn't know what to believe any more.
"M'lady?" Hendricks steadied her with a hand to her elbow. "Sit. You'll do yourself no good worrying about him. He's not worth it."
He was right. So why did shutting Orlando out in the freezing cold feel so wrong? Why was her heart tearing in two?
"I'll build up the fire," Hendricks said.
"No." Susanna continued her pacing. "Leave it. And no candles." It had grown dark and was raining again. Rain splashed against the windows and tracked down the glass in rivulets. She folded her arms around her body, but it didn't stop another shiver. She was cold, but Orlando must be colder.
Hell. She'd not covered the orange trees for the night. With all the events of the day, she'd forgotten them. Hell and damn.
Cook waddled in, wringing her hands in her apron. "Supper's ready. Shall I bring it in here?"
"Go into the kitchen," Susanna told them gently. "All of you. It's warmer there."
"You come too, my dear girl," Bessie said, putting an arm around Susanna's shoulders. "Come now, you need to eat and get warm."
She shook her head. "I'll stay here." Where it was cold, but dry at least.
There was a thin silence while the servants all exchanged glances in the semi-darkness.
"What about him?" Cook asked quietly.
"What about him?" Hendricks snapped.
"Shall I give him some broth?"
"He doesn't deserve your pity. He's no better than a rat and that's how he should be treated."
"Stop it," Susanna said, weary. "Give him some broth, Cook. If he's still there." Perhaps he'd gone into the stables, or finally left altogether.
"He's still there," Cook said gravely. "Poked my head out a window before to see. He's just sitting and watching the house."
"He'll catch his death in this weather," Bessie said.
Oh God. Susanna put her face in her hands and tried to shut out the image of him lying cold and dead on her doorstep in the morning. "Give him a blanket too."
"M'lady," Hendricks said, "is that wise? Once you feed a stray dog and offer it comfort, it never leaves."
"He is not a dog, Mr. Hendricks, or a rat. Get him a blanket."
"Perhaps I should speak to the master."
"No! Leave Father in peace."
He blanched. She'd never spoken to him with such harshness, and the poor man looked completely taken aback.
So be it. She would not have Orlando becoming ill because of her. Besides, the longer he remained out there, the more she suspected it was too late for Hendricks's warning anyway. Orlando had received too much comfort from Stoneleigh already. He was no longer a stray.
The three servants reluctantly left and Susanna was relieved to be alone again with her bleak thoughts. Instead of trying to chase them away, she embraced them. In a strange way, they were a solace.