Sebastian braced his boot on the opposite side of the hole and then burrowed his hands under the girl’s shoulders. “Ready.”
Together, they hauled her up, the action creating an awful sucking noise as the pit released the girl from its inky grip. That’s when Sebastian noticed the deep purple bruises circling her thin throat.
The vicar appeared at Sebastian’s side, using his coat to protect McCarthy’s memories as much as possible. They laid her on the ground and everyone stared at her ragged form in appalled silence. Sebastian broke the spell, intending to carry the girl to the cart, but McCarthy shook his head.
“I’ll be doing that, m’lord. I failed to protect her as I should. This will be my penance.”
Catherine opened her mouth to reassure the grieving father, but Sebastian shook his head. Words would not cut through the man’s grief and recriminations; only time would do that. A good deal of time.
He held his hand out to her, needing the contact. She came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her face in his chest. He kissed her sodden head, giving McCarthy time to cradle his daughter in his arms and set off for the meadow, with the vicar leading the way.
Sebastian framed her sweet face, thankful the rain had gentled to a light patter. “I’m sorry you had to witness such evil.”
She grasped his wrists, turning tearful eyes up to his. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know, but I vow to find out.” He shifted her to his side, though he did not let go. “Come, let us be quit of this place.”
Several hours later, Sebastian drew Reaper to a halt outside Bellamere’s thick double doors, with Catherine snuggled in his arms. He hadn’t the heart to take her home, where her daughter would see her mother in such a disheveled state and would no doubt shower Catherine with difficult questions.
Although the driving rain had rinsed most of the mud off, their skin and clothes were still stained with bits of silt. Catherine’s blond hair hung in long, lanky clumps down her back, and her boots carried deep, ruinous gashes.
Grayson and two footmen appeared, rushing to Sebastian’s aid. “My lord,” Grayson said. “Is Mrs. Ashcroft injured? Should I prepare a room?”
“No and yes,” Sebastian said. “Please send word to Winter’s Hollow that Mrs. Ashcroft is fine, but will be staying the evening here. Leave two footmen over there as a precaution. And have Mrs. Fox draw us hot baths.”
Sebastian could not wait to be rid of his damp, abrasive clothes. He was certain Catherine felt the same, although she hadn’t spoken a word since leaving McCarthy’s cottage.
“My lord.” Catherine stirred, her voice raw. “What are we doing here? I must make sure Sophie and my mother are well.”
“I sent two footmen to stay with them,” he said. “They will see that clean clothes are sent over.” He skimmed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “It’s best you stay here tonight. You’re in no condition to see your daughter.”
“But the killer—”
“He’s accomplished what he wanted and is likely long gone.”
The tension in her body drained away, replaced by a racking shiver.
“Here, let us get you out of the elements.” With Grayson’s support, Sebastian set her down. “Steady.”
He dismounted, handing the reins to his butler and offering an arm to the widow. “Grayson, please see what Mrs. Fox can find in the way of food. Mrs. Ashcroft has not eaten all day.”
“Nor have you.” She snaked her hand into the crook of his arm, leaning on him as they made their way inside. “Bath first, food later.”
Another footman arrived to relieve Grayson of his hostler duties.
“My lord.” Grayson entered the entry hall behind them. “I’m told the countess’s bedchamber is the only aired room. The maids are working on the rose room.”
“No need,” Sebastian said. “Mrs. Ashcroft can use the countess’s chamber.”
“Oh, no,” Catherine said. “I am happy to wait for the rose room.”
“You would have the maids go through all that extra work for no reason?” Sebastian knew she worried about the impropriety of sleeping in a bedchamber next to his, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted her close.
She glanced from him to Grayson, as if the butler would help plead her case. Grayson, like most seasoned servants, learned long ago not to get involved in his employer’s business.