Page 95 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“I know. Come find me when it’s safe,” she whispered.

“Always.”

She slipped through the side door, skirts brushing hay, and vanished into the passage beyond, the house closing around her like a shield.

Thomas watched until she was gone.

Then he turned toward the main stable entrance, shoulders squared, ready to meet whatever Ashwood thought he controlled.

Chapter Forty-Four

Thomas had barely stepped into the main stable aisle when the heavy exterior door swung open with a force that suggested neither wind nor chance at work. The lanterns along the wall guttered violently, shadows jumping like startled birds. The horses shifted, their hooves scraping.

Ashwood entered with the easy stride of a man who believed every threshold already belonged to him.

“Grey,” he said, his voice smooth, almost pleasant. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Thomas inclined his head. “My lord.”

Ashwood’s gaze flicked around the space, assessing, calculating, searching for any sign of Eliza’s presence. Thomas kept his expression neutral.

“You seem to be everywhere but where I expect you,” Ashwood mused, though his smile held no warmth. “The West Wing. The stables. The cottage. You’re becoming… elusive.”

Thomas kept his voice steady. “I go where my duties take me.”

“Ah,” Ashwood replied, strolling farther into the aisle, fingertips grazing the grain bins as if inspecting for dust. “Duties. Yes. Curious how often those duties place you near Lady Thornhaven.”

A muscle jumped in Thomas’s jaw, but he controlled it before it could betray him.

“Lady Thornhaven requested my presence earlier. I complied.”

Ashwood laughed softly. “Requested. Of course she did.”

He stepped closer, invading Thomas’s space with calculated ease, the smell of bergamot and expensive wool accompanying him. Thomas held perfectly still.

“Tell me, Grey,” Ashwood said, voice dropping, “have you noticed anything unusual at Hartleigh lately?”

A test. A baited hook.

Thomas answered carefully. “There has been damage from the storm, and some doors have been—”

“Yes,” Ashwood cut in. “Ah, the doors. They do seem unruly, don’t they?”

The lantern beside them sputtered, flaring and dimming in quick succession. Thomas didn’t look at it. Ashwood did, briefly, and frowned as if the house itself had offended him.

“Lady Thornhaven,” Ashwood resumed, “received a letter this morning. Odd ledger discrepancies. Concerning deliveries. One might think someone is tampering with records.”

Thomas did not react outwardly. Inside, everything drew taut.

“If someone is questioning the accuracy of the ledgers,” he said evenly, “I will review them.”

If Ashwood expected defensiveness, he didn’t get it.

Ashwood’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “You seem remarkably calm.”

“I prefer facts,” Thomas said. “Not speculation.”

Ashwood stepped even closer. “Do you.”