of death than objects of comfort. “But I’m enjoying her company.”
His threat could not have been clearer. Because of Catherine’s moment of conscience, Sophie would now be used as a tool to ensure her mother’s good behavior.
“All men, even those with evil intent, have a weakness. It is how governments do business, madam. They find their opponent’s weakness and exploit it.”
Cochran’s prophetic words returned to haunt her. How had she missed the depravity lurking behind the official’s piglet eyes? Did he even work for the government? Doubtful. She must consider everything he’d told her up to this moment a lie, including Sebastian’s involvement with the French. Sebastian.
“I’m eager to hear how you’re going to obtain the list, Mrs. Ashcroft,” Cochran said. “Spare us no details.”
At the use of the term “us,” Catherine remembered the others in the room. Her gaze slashed to the mahogany-haired woman hovering near the door to the frightening stranger called Silas keeping vigil next to her chair.
At first glance, Silas appeared to be in his late fifties with his hunched shoulders, unsteady gait, and thinning brown hair. But on closer inspection, Catherine noticed his eyes and mouth did not carry the deep grooves so common of that age. No, this drab little man couldn’t be more than a half dozen years beyond her nine and twenty.
Her attention shifted back to Sophie, who squirmed beneath Cochran’s hold. “Please allow my daughter to go upstairs,” she pleaded once more. Cochran’s hulking presence so near to her baby sent a shiver of debilitating dread through her. How in Heaven’s name would she get them out of this?
He leaned forward, and his thick lips spoke near Sophie’s temple. “Mrs. Ashcroft? We’re waiting.”
Catherine unlocked her ankles and gripped her knees with shaking hands. What did he want from her? She had already searched every room where she thought Sebastian would keep private papers.
Cochran considered her for a moment, then lowered his mouth to Sophie’s ear. “Your mother holds out hope that she has a choice in the matter.” He straightened, his gaze flattened. “It’s best to clear up such misconceptions at the onset. Mrs. Clarke,” he called, “stoke the fire. Our fine summer weather has definitely taken a turn, especially during these cloudless afternoons. I don’t want the ladies to catch a chill.”
A flush of cold panic coated her palms. She glanced from Mrs. Clarke bending over the fire to Cochran’s dispassionate gaze to Sophie’s pale face and felt the stabilized world she had erected for her daughter fracture.
She pushed up from her chair, intending to go to Sophie, to offer what comfort she could, but Silas clamped a hand around her neck, forcing her back into her seat.
“It is best you stay seated, Mrs. Ashcroft,” Cochran said.
“M-mama?” Sophie’s voice cracked.
Catherine winced when Silas’s fingers tightened on her neck. As she stared into her daughter’s uncertain eyes—a look so uncharacteristic of the imp whose escapades kept everyone in the household on guard—a weighty helplessness held her immobile while her brave girl contorted her body to elude Cochran’s despicable touch.
Catherine balled her hands into painful knots as the weight on her chest grew heavier. She pulled in a calming breath, one that barely registered, then forced a reassuring smile. “Do not fret, pumpkin. Mama will take care of everything. I promise.”
Her daughter visibly relaxed, having no reason to believe her mother would fail. She never had before. But Catherine knew this time was different. A palpable evil had entered their home, and Catherine worried she had told her daughter her first lie.
Cochran directed his attention toward the pulsing coals. “You did well with the fire, Mrs. Clarke.”
The woman averted her face.
Bending forward, Cochran rubbed the backs of his fingers across Sophie’s rounded cheek. “Can you feel the fire’s warmth, pumpkin?” His lifted his amused gaze to Catherine.
Her eyes welled with tears.
Sophie nodded, scrunching up her pert nose and leaning away from his caress. “It’s hot.”
“Is it?” His careless tone belied his concern. “Shall we ask your mama?”
“Do you think the fire’s hot enough, Mrs. Ashcroft?”
Her throat closed around a useless scream. Besides Mary, who had nowhere to go, the servants had all gone home to spend time with their families, as they did every Tuesday afternoon. It was the only time she truly had Sophie all to herself. Even her mother had gone out to visit with friends. Had Cochran known they would be alone? He seemed to know a great deal about them.