Evie turned to frown at the drapes drawn over the windows. “Dinner. I hadn’t realized it was so late.”
“You needed the sleep,” Mrs. Summers said. “We both did.” She leaned down to bestow a gentle pat on Evie’s shoulder. “I am glad you were not harmed today.”
Evie took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you…Oh, wait—” She held fast to Mrs. Summers’s hand when the older woman would have pulled away. “What in the world had you planned on doing with that club?”
“Club?”
“Downstairs, in the kitchen, you were carrying—”
“Ah, the broken broom handle.” Mrs. Summers frowned thoughtfully. “I am sure I have no idea.” She waved the idea away with a hand. “Come eat and make your apologies. You will feel better for both.”
“I will,” Evie replied, laughing softly. “I’ll be down shortly.”
In Evie’s opinion, “shortly” was rather like the word “mild.” It could mean anything, really.
For her, it meant a half hour of dressing, pinning her hair, pacing, and otherwise building up her nerve for the apology that was to come. When she thought she might have managed enough of the last, she made her way downstairs to find the others just starting their meal.
She demurred when the gentlemen would have risen, and took her seat with a mumbled greeting. For some reason, she found it impossible to meet McAlistair’s eyes. Part of that was a fear of somehow giving away their shared secret, but most of it, she conceded, was a fear of McAlistair somehow discovering her own private thoughts.
She’d only just realized that she loved him. She needed to sort out how she felt about that before facing how he felt about that.
Evie picked up her fork and concentrated so very hard on her plate that she likely wouldn’t have noticed Mrs. Summers’s pointed look if it hadn’t been preceded by a loud clearing of the lady’s throat.
She set her fork down, berating herself for a coward. Swallowing past a lump of guilt and embarrassment, she addressed Mr. Hunter and Christian.
“I owe you, all of you, an apology. I should n-not have gone out alone. My decision to do so was based on…on…well, it hardly matters,” she mumbled, unable to think of a way to defend herself without explaining all. “It w-was careless of me, and I apologize.”
To her amazement, Mr. Hunter accepted her apology with a quick, almost disinterested nod while Christian merely shrugged.
“Don’t fret on it, lass,” he replied in an offhand manner.
Knowing it was expected of her, she looked to McAlistair.
“Nothing to forgive,” he said softly.
“You should know,” Christian added before she’d had a chance to respond, “a letter to Haldon’s been sent, and we’ve checked the grounds. He’s not on them.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Well, what is to be done now?” Mrs. Summers inquired. “Are we to stay? The point, I thought, was to remove Evie from danger.”
And that, it seemed, was that. No need for a drawn-out and mortifying confession, Evie realized. She sat back in her chair, equal parts relieved and guilty for having gotten off so easily.
“Not entirely,” Mr. Hunter replied by way of answering Mrs. Summers. “The point was also to take her someplace easier to guard.”
“And to keep others safe,” Evie pointed out. She hadn’t been serious the first time she’d made that argument—hadn’t seen any reason to be—but she was bloody well serious now.
“There’s no reason for Evie to leave now,” McAlistair said.
If she hadn’t instinctively turned at the sound of his gravelly voice, Evie would have missed the quiet look of understanding he shared with Christian and Mr. Hunter.
“What do you mean by ‘now’?” she asked.
“Just that, lass,” Christian offered. “There’s no point in leaving just now. We can keep you safe—”
“I’m not an idiot, Christian. That wasn’t the sort of now McAlistair meant.”
“It’s not a word with multiple definitions, dear,” Mrs. Summers said.
She looked to McAlistair. “The attacker’s appearance here changed something else. What is it?”
He hesitated before answering. “We know where to look now. We can find him.”
Evie’s throat went dry. She’d become bait after all. “In town, you mean?”
“And the surrounding area.”
“There must be hundreds of people. How can you possibly hope to find him?”
Mr. Hunter answered. “It helps that McAlistair caught a glimpse of the bas…er…blighter.”
“You said you saw only his back and his horse,” Evie said to McAlistair. And, if logic followed, the back of his horse. Did they hope to identify a man by the rear view of his horse?
“It’s something,” Mr. Hunter muttered.
She chose not to comment.
Mrs. Summers set down her fork. “Well, until such time as this man is apprehended, I think it would be best if a guard was taken up. It would hardly do to have the man sneaking inside whilst the lot of us slept.”
“Agreed,” all three men said at once.