She could open those now, she thought dully, and rose stiffly from the bed.
After letting in the meager light, she straightened her appearance, replaced the pillows on the bed, and then, finding herself with nothing left to do, sat back down.
She felt drained to her very core, completely hollowed out…except for her head, which felt stuffy…and her neck, which had a substantial kink in it…and her knee, which still throbbed from its encounter with the kitchen table. But the rest of her felt empty, as if someone had reached inside and torn out her heart.
It was almost amazing, she thought without feeling the least bit amazed, how one could be numb and yet hurt unbearably at the same time.
It was similarly odd that one could feel ill and hungry at the same time. But then, she’d had very little to eat all day, and while her appetite might occasionally suffer some from nerves and anger, it was never quelled for long. She hadn’t gained her curvy figure by skipping meals.
Resigned to filling her grumbling stomach, she headed downstairs, careful to keep an eye out for McAlistair. She wasn’t ready yet to see him, let alone speak with him—not while she was surrounded by what she assumed was expensive artwork and knew to be fragile vases.
She was careful to keep her foray into the kitchen brief. The room held unpleasant memories now, too fresh to linger over food choices. She grabbed an apple—a convenient and inexpensive projectile, should she run into McAlistair—and headed back upstairs.
She was at the foot of the main staircase when the front door swung open with a crash.
Heart in her throat, Evie spun around to see the Duchess of Rockeforte come stumbling in. Short of breath, wearing a wrinkled and dusty traveling gown, and with her dark hair escaping in large sections from her bonnet, she looked positively wild.
Evie gaped at her. “Sophie?”
Sophie ran forward to throw her arms around her. “Evie. You’re safe.”
“Yes, I—” She returned the embrace. “What are you doing here? Has something happened?” A horrible thought occurred to her. Mirabelle, Whit’s wife, was expecting. “Mirabelle. The baby. Has something happened to—”
“No. No.” Sophie drew back, but gripped Evie’s shoulders. “It’s John Herbert,” she panted. “The footman from Haldon.”
“John Herbert?” Alternately relieved, baffled, and alarmed, Evie shook her head. “I don’t understand. Did he escape?”
“Escape?” Sophie blinked. “From Haldon?”
“Haldon? What? No, from Christian and Mr. Hunter.”
“Christian? Mr. Hunter?” Sophie dropped her hands. “We’re a set of parrots. What are you talking about?”
“John Herbert. He was here this morning. Christian and Mr. Hunter have taken him to the local magistrate. What are you talking about?”
“Absolutely nothing of relevance, apparently.” Sophie laughed suddenly. “We’d come to inform you of John Herbert’s treachery.”
“We?”
“I came with Alex, Whit, and Kate.” Blowing out a long breath, and looking calmer for it, Sophie searched out a chair next to the hall side table and sat down heavily. “We came as soon as Herbert’s absence was noticed.”
“Oh.” Evie still felt utterly lost. “Well, that was very…er…loyal of you. I’m surprised Alex allowed it.”
“He didn’t.” Sophie shrugged. “I came anyway.”
“Ah.” She looked in the direction of the still-open door. “Where is he? And the others?”
“A minute or two back.” She stretched out her legs with a grimace. “We raced the last two miles. Well, Kate and I did. Alex and Whit were checking their map and left somewhat unawares.”
“You left them behind?”
“Unfortunately, they gave chase soon enough,” Sophie replied. “They’ve been the worst of traveling companions. Arguing for the first half of the journey and lecturing for the second.”
Evie looked warily at the front door again, expecting a storming pair of men at any moment. “I suppose Whit is no more pleased with Kate at present than Alex is with you.”
“They are a mite put out,” Sophie admitted, without, Evie noticed, the slightest hint of regret. “As is Lady—”
Sophie broke off as Lady Kate Cole entered through the front door, looking much as Sophie had only a minute before, her pale blonde hair mostly loose from its pins, and her wide blue eyes bright with worry.
“Evie! You’re all right!”
“I’m perfectly well,” Evie insisted, even as Kate flew into her arms.
Keeping a tight hold on her friend, Kate threw a look over her shoulder at Sophie. An easy maneuver, as Kate was several inches taller than Evie. “Did you tell her? Does she know about John—”
“She knows,” Sophie cut in. “She knew already.”
Kate drew back, a line appearing across her brow. “What? How?”
Sophie untied the ribbons of her bonnet. “Mr. Herbert made an appearance several hours ago and was subsequently apprehended.”