Yet the old resentments seemed petty and unimportant now. “He is with my aunt. We are to meet in London and stay with Lord Rushborough’s sister, Lady Saville. I regret that I cannot offer you hospitality, but I must—” She fought off a wave of weakness. “I must be on my way.”
“There is so much left to say, to explain. Eden—”
“We will meet again, Father.” After I have my son. “Will you… please send for my maid?”
“You are not well! Let me take you inside—”
“No.” She braced herself on the seat. “I must… go to my son.”
“Is your aunt in London now?”
She cursed herself, and the unspoken words bounced like loose pistol balls inside her skull. “No. I was ill, and… we left Hartsmere in haste, because certain threats… had been made against Donal and me.”
“Threats? What sort of threats? By whom?”
She shook her head, a mistake she paid for dearly.
“Claudia—” Claudia insisted that he go with her. “She was to take Donal… to a safe place.” Why did I let him out of my sight? “She… did not tell me where.”
Lord Bradwell’s forehead creased with worry. “I knew that something was wrong, Eden, and I shall not desert you again in your time of need. I am not the man I was five years ago. Please allow me to find my grandson and bring him to you.”
“H-how?”
“There was a place Claudia sometimes went when she needed a sanctuary, one she would consider quite safe. Perhaps she has taken him there. I will inquire upon the road.”
“Tell me. Tell me where—” Eden’s head had begun to spin. Lord Bradwell gripped her shoulders to hold her upright. It was the first time they had touched in five years.
“I beg you to trust me, Eden. Please. You are too unwell, and I know my sister as even you do not. If Hartsmere is not safe, you must go where you can be properly cared for. I once had friends in the neighborhood—”
Trust you? “No.” It was becoming very difficult to think, just as it had been when she left Hartsmere. “My son. I must…”
He made some reply, but she could not seem to make sense of it. She dug her fingers into his coat. “Help me.”
“I shall, Daughter.” He squeezed her hand. “We will be a family again, I promise you.”
That was the last she heard for a very long time. She drifted through a series of dreams—dreams of rumbling, constant motion, floating through space, muffled voices, and gentle touches. Faces passed in and out of her vision. Someone told her to drink, and she drank. She fought to wake up, aware of some urgent matter that required her at-tention, but the void dragged her down again like a deadly ocean current.
What finally set her free was the complete absence of movement. She felt a soft mattress under her back and blankets drawn up to her chin. She opened her eyes. The dim room in which she lay was not that of an inn, nor was it her own chamber at Hartsmere. She attempted to sit, but her head immediately warned her that such an action was most unwise.
“My lady? Are you awake?”
She turned her head to see a girl sitting at her bedside, a maid too young to be anything but a tweenie.
“Where am I?” Eden said. Her voice felt as if it had not been used in ages.
The maid sprang to her feet and curtsied. “You are at Lady Saville’s house, my lady. You have been ill. I was told to watch you until you woke up.”
Lady Flavia Saville’s. That had been where she was bound… when they left Hartsmere. Memory returned all at once, in perfectly distinct, vivid images. The flight, her illness, the stop at the inn. The reunion with her father, and what she had learned from him. Her determination to find Donal. And then the darkness.
“How did I come to… be here?” she asked. “What day is it?” Where is my son?
“I will ask for Lady Saville,” the maid said. She darted out of the room before Eden could blink.