But Uncle Alfred didn’t seem to be listening. He simply stared at her, as if she was some kind of angel. Then he squeezed her hand and pulled her closer. Lottie leaned down, so that he didn’t have to speak any louder. “I knew he would find you. The only one,” he said in his faint, trembling whisper. He then gave Lottie a broad smile. The kind she hadn’t seen in years. The tears she had been holding back spilled over her cheeks and she let out a sharp sob.

“Yes,” she managed to say. “You were certainly right about that.”

His gaze flitted behind her shoulder. “You will be safe now. Always.” He then exchanged a look with Mr. Wetherby, who stood a few feet away.

Lottie glanced back at the man, but her uncle said no more. His eyelids drooped heavily.

“Get some rest, Uncle,” she murmured and placed his hand on top of his chest. “I’ll see you in the morning. First thing.” But the elderly man was already dozing off.

“Come, Miss Carlisle.” Mr. Wetherby cupped her elbow and guided her out of the room and into the hall. “I’m sorry. That must have been terribly upsetting for you.”

Lottie allowed him to lead her to her room. Uncle Alfred’s last words were unsettling, but then he must be confused by so many things at the moment.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Al—Mr. Gresham seemed unaware of how ill he truly was. If I had known…” Her voice trailed off. She could not say for certain what she would have done differently.

Mr. Wetherby’s mouth tensed. “Mr. Gresham was not fully informed of the situation as a precaution. In case he decided to tell anyone of Sir Alfred’s condition.”

Lottie stopped in her tracks. “He would never betray my uncle.”

“I don’t mean to disparage him. As I said, it was merely a precaution.”

Lottie narrowed her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Mr. Wetherby’s flat stare betrayed nothing. “You’re tired, Miss Carlisle.” He then gestured toward her bedroom at the far end of the hall. “You need rest.”

When they reached her bedroom door, Lottie faced him. “I assume that once I enter this room, I will be able to leave freely?” She kept her tone light, but the question was serious.

He reared back. “I am no jailer, Miss Carlisle. Like you, I only want what is best for your uncle.”

“In that case, you wouldn’t object to me speaking to him in private tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Wetherby’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. “Of course not.”

Lottie gave him a beatific smile. “Wonderful. Have a good night, Mr. Wetherby.” Before he could say another word, Lottie stepped into her bedroom and shut the door right in his face.

Lottie slept fitfully, as she had every night since leaving Venice, with Alec’s dark voice echoing in her mind. But instead of his cruel dismissal of their friendship, she now recalled his words about Uncle Alfred.

I owe him everything…and don’t think he ever let me forget it.