Page 73 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

No smoke rose. No lamp glowed.

Something tightened inside her chest.

She reached the step and touched the latch.

The door stood slightly open.

“Thomas?” she called knowing he was miles away at Thornhaven but unable to stop herself.

Silence.

She pushed the door wider and stepped in.

The scent met her first: old woodsmoke, soap, pine, and something faintly domestic. A narrow bed. A small table. A peg for a coat. A shelf of books. The simple order of a quiet life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement.

A small body shifted beneath the blanket. A sound escaped, half-cry, half-whimper.

She crossed the room in three strides and carefully pulled the blanket back.

“Sammy?” Her voice broke despite her care. “Samuel Briggs?”

The boy’s eyes flew open. Recognition spread across his bruised face.

“My lady,” he whispered. “Lady Thornhaven?”

Relief hit him all at once. He reached for her with a trembling hand.

Eliza sat on the edge of the bed and gathered him carefully into her arms, holding him upright without jostling the bruises along his temple.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “You should be home, or at least on the road near your village. How did you come to Hartleigh?”

Sammy swallowed. “I… I was taking the message, like Da told me. Just to Hacket’s Mill. Not the whole way. I know I’m not to go far.”

Hacket’s Mill was close to Thornhaven and not even close to the long road to Hartleigh.

Eliza brushed dirt from his cheek. “Did someone bring you here?”

Sammy nodded, “A man. I didn’t know him. He grabbed me and said I was in the way.”

“What did he look like?” Her voice stayed gentle, but her pulse thudded sharply.

Sammy’s brows drew tight as he searched for words. “Tall. Loud. His coat had shiny buttons. Big ones. They clinked when he walked.”

Eliza went still.

Ashwood.

The cold settled fast and deep.

He always wore that coat. Always drew attention with those gaudy brass buttons that caught every bit of lamplight. She had dismissed them as ostentatious vanity.

“Did he say anything to you, Sammy? Anything at all?”

“He said…” Sammy swallowed hard. “He said people would come here. That I was to stay put. And if they asked… I was to say Mr. Grey brought me.”

The breath left her in a single, sharp exhale. Of course Ashwood would choose Thomas’s cottage. Of course he would force the boy to memorize Thomas’s name.