wish this nightmare away. If anything happened to Sophie—
Swallowing hard, she cut the thought short and allowed her anger to build. She thought back to all the achingly lonely nights she had spent waiting for Jeffrey, all the times her daughter searched the drive for her father.
She thought about how she would kill these men for threatening her baby.
“I will do what needs to be done,” Catherine said.
Cochran’s gaze flicked to Silas, though his comment was directed at the woman. “I am not convinced. Mrs. Clarke?”
The mahogany-haired woman stared at the fire, unmoving. “Mrs. Clarke, need I remind you—”
“No, Mr. Cochran.” The woman turned bleak eyes to the fire and bent to retrieve the red-tipped poker. She turned toward Sophie.
“No!” Catherine catapulted herself out of the chair.
Clawlike fingernails raked across her skin as Silas lost his grip. His other hand swept around, seizing the coil of hair pinned at the back of her head, yanking her to a painful halt. A cry of shock-pain escaped her throat and her body bowed backward.
“Let me go!” Keeping her burning gaze on the glowing poker, she made mad swipes at the hand entrenched in her hair. A couple of her nails connected with flesh, and her captor jerked hard in retaliation, sending her sprawling back into her seat. He did not release his hold.
“Leave my mama alone!” Sophie cried, fighting against Cochran’s restraint. Tears streamed down her terrified face.
Unable to free herself, Catherine tightened her grip on her captor’s wrist while she warned Cochran. “Leave her be, you brute.” To her daughter, she said, “Sit still, pumpkin. Mama’s fine.”
She caught Cochran’s eye. “I’ll tear apart every room, ask questions, eavesdrop on conversations,” she panted. “Revisit his bedchamber. Whatever it takes.” A mother’s determination bolstered her tone. “I swear it.”
Silence followed her declaration. Catherine focused on Cochran and awaited his verdict with thundering ears. Her daughter’s broken cries sliced through her heart yet strengthened her resolve.
Finally, Cochran nodded, releasing Sophie at the same time Catherine’s captor withdrew his painful grip on her hair.
She barely had time to sit up before her daughter launched herself into her arms. Catherine hugged Sophie’s small, trembling body, keeping a cautious eye on her uninvited guests.
“It’s time I formally introduce you to my lovely assistant.” Cochran gestured to the mahogany-haired woman. “Mrs. Clarke will join your household until you have completed your task.”
“Whatever for?”
“Insurance, of course.”
More like a gaoler. Now that the woman no longer held the hot poker, she appeared stern and uncompromising. “How am I to explain her presence?”
His gaze sketched over her daughter, who now fought Catherine’s protective hold to see the other woman. “I’m sure you’ll agree that your daughter could use a bit of refinement. Mrs. Clarke will make an excellent governess.”
Sophie shook her head. “No, Mama. I don’t want her.”
A lump formed in Catherine’s throat. They expected her to just hand over her daughter to this woman? To this unsmiling creature who would no doubt report her every move and would do God knew what to her daughter?
Who was she? What were her qualifications? No one in her household, or in the village, would believe Catherine would entrust Sophie’s care to a stranger.
“I see your apprehension, Mrs. Ashcroft. You’ve no need to worry. Mrs. Clarke is quite good with children.” He smirked at the other woman. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
“Yes, Mr. Cochran.”
“You see,” he said, “there’s no call for concern.”
Catherine tried to reason with him one more time. “I can do this without your insurance.”
“No doubt,” he said. “Mrs. Clarke, take the girl to the nursery.”
Catherine tightened her hold around Sophie. Now that the immediate danger had passed, she did not want to lose sight of her daughter. As long as she could see Sophie, she could maintain the illusion of control.
Mrs. Clarke approached Catherine’s chair and held out her hand. “Miss Sophie, come show me your toys.”
Catherine stared at the woman’s outstretched fingers, noted their slight tremble. The woman did too, and dropped her arm, fisting her hand.
Interesting.
But her daughter had already shied away, clutching Catherine’s face between tiny hands that smelled like dirt and worms. “No, Mama,” she pleaded, her blue eyes filling with tears. “I p-promise to behave. I promise.”
Catherine could barely speak around the tears clawing at the inside of her throat. She rested her forehead against her daughter’s and squeezed her eyes shut.
Lord, give me strength.
Her daughter impatiently pushed against Catherine’s cheeks, cutting her prayer short. She bent to capture Catherine’s gaze. “Please, Mama. I want to stay