Page 66 of A Provincial Peer

“Yer welcome, Miss Meg.” Giles picked up the empty pail and walked out of the stall. “I ’ope ya’ll come back again soon.”

With a few extra hops in her step, Meg followed. “I will,” she promised.

“You’ve been very good to her, Giles,” Caroline said, reaching for Meg’s hand.

“Not at all, Miss Caroline. I reckon the world would be a better place if we ’ad more Megs in it.”

“Lord Benting!” Meg withdrew her hand from Caroline’s and darted for the door.

Caroline swung around. Benedict was standing at the entrance, and at Meg’s exuberant cry, he crouched and extended his arms to her. Meg ran into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the floor as he rose to his full height.

Meg set her small hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “I rode Ginger. You were supposed to be here, but you weren’t.”

“Forgive me,” he said. “I had something very important I had to attend to.”

“Will you be here next time?”

“I certainly want to be,” he said. “When is next time?”

“Soon. Mr. Giles said to come soon.”

Caroline expected him to chuckle at Meg’s naive response, but even his smile was missing. Her heart, which had lifted at the sight of him, instantly sank.

“Benedict?” She moved toward him. “Is something wrong?”

The softening in his eyes told her that he was glad to see her, but he did not answer her question. Instead, he lowered Meg to the ground. “Shep is in the yard, Meg. I’m sure he would be happy to see you.”

Meg turned to her. “May I go, Mama?”

Caroline’s gaze had yet to leave Benedict’s face, but she nodded. “Yes, you may. But stay close by, if you please.”

With a happy skip, Meg hurried outside. Caroline waited, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest. Benedict reached for her hand. Surprised by the gesture, she curled her fingers around his and glanced at Giles. If the cowman had noticed, he showed no sign of it.

“I’m sensin’ trouble, m’lord.”

“Then you would be right, Giles.” Benedict’s grip on her hand increased. “I’ve just come from speaking with Mr. Rowe’s maid, Rachel, at the steward’s cottage. It appears that Mr. Rowe has contracted smallpox.”

The ground seemed to tilt beneath Caroline’s feet.

As if from a distance, she heard Giles’s voice. “Devil take it! Is it certain?”

“As certain as we can be without a physician seeing him,” Benedict replied.

Caroline forced herself to take a breath. And then another one. Please, God, her heart screamed. Please let it not have followed me to Leyfield. Giles was speaking again. Caroline shook her head, attempting to clear it of its stupor.

“Did ’e pick it up in Gloucester?”

“He must have,” Benedict said. “I’ve just come from the stables. As far as I can ascertain, it was the only stop he made between the road and the cottage. According to John, Rowe led his mare into the stable and left immediately afterward.”

“John was the one who assisted Mr. Rowe?” Caroline battled to keep her mounting panic under control.

“He was. Apparently, the younger stableboys were already abed.”

John had spent the best part of the morning with Meg. Caroline took another breath. “And you? Did you have contact with him?”

Benedict shook his head. “I spoke to his maid at the front door to the cottage. When I learned that Rowe was ill, I retrieved the books I needed from his study and left immediately.”

Focusing on her breathing was not helping. “You went into his house? Even though you knew there was smallpox within its walls?” She pulled her hand free of Benedict’s. “What were you thinking?” Fear, anger, and desperation crashed over her until she could not separate one emotion from the next. “Do you not care that you have now placed yourself—and everyone else with whom you come in contact—in mortal danger?”