All About Seduction(52)

But he was too drained to even register her response or if he was coherent. The drug and the effort to speak overpowered his will to stay awake against the sedating effect of the morphine. The gray nothingness sucked him down.

Caroline couldn’t move for fear she would crack. Silence shuttered the room. It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be true. Jack had to be dreaming.

“What did he say?” demanded Robert.

“Jack,” she whispered, hoping he would startle awake and look as if he’d been deep in a nightmare. His hand against her leg let her know he’d been awake, had intended for her to hear, but she refused to believe it. If Mr. Broadhurst had murdered his previous wife, if her father had known, if anyone had known, he’d be in prison or dead now. She wrapped her cold fingers around Jack’s warm palm. He was very still, except for his deep breathing, and he didn’t clasp her back.

Robert’s brow furrowed and he leaned toward her. “He said—”

“He’s under the influence of morphine,” Caroline interrupted. The last thing she wanted was for the words to be repeated. She lifted Jack’s limp hand. “Look, he is asleep.”

Why would he have said such a thing? She pushed Jack’s hand under the covers. She hadn’t shattered, but only Jack’s weakened state kept her from shaking him violently.

“Caro,” whispered Robert. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

Like a knife running down her spine, Caroline wanted nothing to do with Jack’s pronouncement. “No. Not for Papa to have allowed me to marry him, and not for what I know of my husband. He would never kill anyone.”

But a tiny doubt niggled at her. Broadhurst could be ruthless.

“Caro, if there is even a chance it might be true, I cannot allow you to stay here.”

“You can do without the three thousand pounds per annum?” she asked.

Robert put his hand over his face. “I’ll break the entail to Nesham Hall and sell it. I’ll find a way. I have a responsibility to you, even if Papa—”

“What of the scandal?”

“I don’t need the earldom. Your safety is more important than that.”

“It’s not true, Robert. Just the ramblings of an injured man. Never think it is true.” Even if it were possible, she’d spent fifteen years as Mr. Broadhurst’s wife, and Robert had only been the head of the family for the last eighteen months.

She couldn’t allow her brother to sell the family estate. The fortified house with its many additions had been in their family since the sixteenth century. It was home in a way this house could never be. If Robert had to sell it, there was nowhere left for her to return if this marriage ended. And she had her pride. If her contribution had saved the family home, she didn’t want to forgo that now. Besides it wasn’t true. Mr. Broadhurst was a businessman, not a murderer.

“I’ll just continue on as before. I would very much like a little one of my own.” She tried to smile, but her face felt made of stone. Her heart was a stone too, heavy and painful in her chest. “I will be glad of it, really. I’m sorry I questioned anything.”

The maid returned with Caroline’s belated breakfast, effectively ending the conversation. But a woman made of stone couldn’t eat.

At midday during the dinner break, several of his coworkers stopped by, along with his oldest sisters bringing apple tarts. He supposed they had been cooking when the earlier wave of visitors arrived. Still groggy from the injection of morphine the doctor had given him before unwrapping and frowning over his misshapen leg, Jack tried to choke down a few bites. At least the doctor’s visit and his stitching the surgery scar together had chased away Lucy.

Mrs. Broadhurst had been there, but maddeningly far away. She hadn’t made eye contact with him, and she left with the doctor.

The door swung open, and Jack hoped for Mrs. Broadhurst, but instead Mr. Broadhurst filled the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?”

The conversation died in mid-sentence.

Finally one of his sisters said, “Beg pardon, sir. We were visiting Jack.”

“He doesn’t need visitors.” Mr. Broadhurst eyed the nightshirt Jack wore.

For once Jack agreed. “They were just leaving,” he said. “Thank you all for coming.”

One of the men cast an uncertain look toward Jack. He shook his head. It was one thing for him to incur Mr. Broadhurst’s wrath, but the others were too dependent on their jobs at the mill. Still, Jack felt overmatched and puny compared to the old man.