fall victim to her and pay for it most severely.”
Philip had to bite the inside of his mouth not to laugh in the woman’s face. He could well imagine how her “poor lad” had come by a limp around a woman who knew how to defend herself. And thank God she did. That odd surge of protectiveness had reared its head again upon hearing of the housekeeper’s son, and his relief knowing the girl could handle herself was palpable.
Who knew how many others tried to take liberties with the beautiful girl, he thought angrily.
“Where does she live?” he asked now. “Is she alone?”
He didn’t like the idea of a woman who lived alone having to defend herself. Any more than he liked the idea of her being blamed for unwanted advances from this woman’s son and his ilk.
“In the woods near this very manor house, my lord. A cottage she shares with another strange old woman. Agnes Healy. A wizened old baggage, if ever there was one. She knows nearly as much about herbs and potions as the gypsy girl, but she hasn’t got any of that evil blood in her. Least not as far as I know.”
Philip tamped down a flame of anger at Mrs. Leary’s words. Why should he care what people thought of a woman he didn’t even know? She’d been kind to Timothy, yes. And truth be told, whatever she’d put on his knee had worked wonders.
Those didn’t seem the actions of an evil witch to him. But it wasn’t his place to go defending her, was it?
The gypsy girl. It seemed fitting. The wild hair, the dark eyes. The unfettered, untamed aura that surrounded her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Leary,” Philip said by way of dismissal.
He remained locked in thought as the older lady moved to the door of the study.
“My lord.”
Philip looked up as the housekeeper hesitated by the door.
“She truly is a wicked one.”
Philip didn’t answer, just dismissed the gossiping woman with a wave of his hand.
Even communicating with the dead.
It was impossible, of course.
People couldn’t speak to the dead.
And Philip didn’t believe in things like ghosts and spirits. He was a man of logic by nature.
He thought of Timothy’s cries in the night. Crying for his mama. Afraid of something or someone who came to him in his sleep…
A chill trickled down his spine.
“It’s nonsense,” he told himself fiercely.
But the words rang hollow in the silent room.
Chapter 4
“And where are you off to this evening?”
Selina smiled as Agnes bustled into the cottage, a basket filled with that afternoon’s forage clasped in her hands.
She finished plaiting her hair and tied it with a ribbon before answering.
“I’m going to Everwood Manor,” she said as she bent and picked up her own basket filled with an assortment of salves and medicines.
“The boy?” Agnes asked, facing away from Selina as she set out her herbs and berries on the scrubbed wooden table.
Unbidden, an image of Lord Breton’s ice-blue eyes and too-handsome face flashed across Selina’s mind.
“Yes,” she answered a little unsteadily. “The boy.”
“Tis fair late to be calling at the place.”
Agnes didn’t bother telling Selina that it simply wasn’t done in the normal way of things, to have a woman turn up at a man’s doorstep alone and unannounced. Especially with night falling.
Those rules just didn’t apply to her. And even if they did, she’d ignore them.
“I won’t be long. I just want to drop some things off.”
Agnes stopped in her task and turned to Selina, her face as serious as Selina had ever seen it.
“Selina, be careful,” Agnes said softly.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Agnes sighed and sat heavily in her chair, suddenly looking every one of her years. There was usually such a youthful vitality about her that Selina forgot she was old.
“Be careful with that man, child,” she said bluntly, her eyes boring into Selina’s.
“Timothy is just a boy,” Selina said past a lump in her throat. But of course, Agnes wasn’t speaking of Timothy, and they both knew it.
“Your mother fell victim to one such as he,” Agnes said, a bitterness tinging her voice.
“You don’t even know him,” Selina bit back, even as she questioned her need to come to the stranger’s defence.
“No, and nor do you,” Agnes countered. “But I know his kind. And you know what creatures men are. And men like him? Powerful, wealthy. They have no qualms in destroying a woman’s life. Especially –“
She drew to a sudden halt, but she may as well have spoken the words.
“Especially a gypsy