She sat in numb silence, while Captain Neill got sick into his bucket. She’d made a grave error exposing herself to this man. He knew she was here. He knew she was alone. Soon, he would know her secret.
Even well-meaning people gossiped about a reclusive woman living alone. All it would take was for him to mention it in passing at the local pub, or even to his own family over dinner. She had been so careful—just as her mother had instructed. Now, word of her predicament would surely spread, and eventually the men would come. It was only a matter of time.
CHAPTER SIX
The clock on the mantel chimed ten times. Audibly counting the hours was the only way Angelica kept track of the day—otherwise, she grew confused, and her internal rhythm shifted until she could no longer tell morning from night. Normally, she would be asleep by now, but, for the first time in a very long time, she had a reason to keep her eyes open.
Captain Neill shivered beneath his blanket. She could smell the perspiration on his skin, even though the room was uncomfortably cold. He probably suffered from a fever.
Angelica remembered fever. She remembered the chills, the discomfort, and the creeping madness. Surely, this was a likely explanation for what plagued the man. It did not, however, explain the blood she practically tasted in the air.
“Captain Neill, are you awake?”
He sighed. “Always.”
“May I ask what brought you here tonight?”
“I crashed my car. Had to walk for miles, and only found your gate by chance.”
She heard him shift in the darkness. The poor man seemed in a constant state of discomfort. “Do you require a doctor?”
“My dear girl, I would love nothing more. Can you ring one?”
“I’m sorry. I have no telephone.”
Again, he sighed. “Figured as much. Hopefully, someone will find my car, and come looking for me. Either way, I’ll be out of your hair by morning.”
Angelica hadn’t counted on someone coming for him. She didn’t know anything about motorcars, but assumed coming upon the wreckage of one would be a curious and frightening sight—especially with the driver missing. It was, therefore, reasonable to assume that a good Samaritan or perhaps even the police might follow his trail to her door.
“You mustn’t tell them about me.”
He laughed. “Are you a trespasser too, Miss Grey?”
“No, this is my home.”
“Then why don’t you want—oh…is it because you’re a young lady living alone? Don’t worry about that. When they see the sorry state I’m in, they won’t believe we’ve got up to anything naughty.”
Growing up, she’d heard her brother Freddie scolded for being naughty, but he’d only been nicking sweets or skipping his lessons. Clearly, Captain Neill wasn’t talking about the childhood antics of an energetic boy. Likely, he meant something closer to what the passionate, panting lovers did in her house when they thought no one was listening.
But Angelica had been listening. And she had been curious.
She was, after all, a woman fully grown. The war had been over for seven years, making her twenty-three or twenty-four by now. Most women her age were married with children of their own. Angelica was not foolish enough to believe such a thing could ever happen to her, but she often wondered what it felt like to be kissed, and touched, and loved.
“Captain Neill…”
“What is it, Miss Grey?”
“Are you married?”
He wheezed out a laugh until he nearly choked. “God, no!”
Perhaps Captain Neill wondered what it felt like to be kissed, touched, and loved, as well. Not that she thought anything naughty would happen between them, but it was a small comfort to know other people in the world were lonely, too.
He was still coughing as he continued, “I’ve got nothing to offer a girl. I’m the second son of a perfectly common family—my father is quite well off, though—with no home of my own, and only a modest yearly allowance. You see, I’m something of a black sheep. No girl in her right mind would pick a chap like me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “I’m something of a black sheep, myself.”
“Because you’re an eccentric recluse living in a tumble-down manor house?”
“No. Because I’m—”
Angelica’s confession was cut short by a crash of thunder. There must have been lightning too, because she felt electricity crackle through the stale, still air. The spark and the sound made her jump.
It must also have made Captain Neill jump. He sounded like he nearly fell off the sofa. “Christ!”
“Were we hit?” Angelica scrambled to her feet. Lightning strikes could set the house ablaze.
He blew out a breath. “I don’t think so. Sorry. My fault. I’m not good around flashes and bangs—reminds me of the war.”
She put a hand on her chest to steady her heart. “I don’t care much for loud sounds, either.”
“We make quite a paranoid pair then,” Captain Neill said, laughing nervously. “Really, I ought to thank you again for taking me in. I’d hate to be stuck out there in that racket.”
“I didn’t take you in. You broke in.”