Lord Godwin bestirred himself to say gruffly, “Where were you when this attack occurred, Miss Fanshawe? Why are you alive to tell the tale?”

“I was teaching a class in the schoolhouse when gunfire rang out. When I ran to the window and saw the bloody scene unfold, I knew I had to protect my students from harm. They were all little ones, none more than seven or eight years old. I hid them in a shed by the back fence, and strove to keep them quiet lest they be slaughtered like the others.”

“Ohh,” Lady Godwin whimpered. “This is too much! I cannot bear to hear of such violence. Richard, do fetch my hartshorn from the drawer.”

Wymark dutifully arose and went to a cabinet, bringing back a small blue bottle, which he uncorked and waved under his mother’s nose. Taking it from him, she alternated between sniffing the restorative and fanning her face with the lacy handkerchief.

“I forbid you to speak another word, Miss Fanshawe,” the earl growled. “I will not have you distressing my wife in this manner. She is gently bred and not accustomed to such brutality!”

“You will hear out Miss Fanshawe,” Clayton countered in an imposing tone. “She has more to say, though I hope perhaps we are past the worst of it.”

He turned his intent gaze to her, as if to warn her to speak with care.

Natalie gave a small nod. She could understand his concern. They hadn’t heard the worst, but her throat felt too taut to describe the carnage in detail, to articulate what had happened to her, or to relate her frantic attempt to stop the bleeding from the saber slash across her friend’s abdomen.

Deathly pale, Audrey had opened her eyes. “It’s too late for me … promise you’ll take Leo to England where he’ll be safe…”

Pulling herself back to the present, Natalie drew a long breath and released it. “Fortunately, several people had guns and were able to fight back. Perhaps half the settlement survived.” She focused her attention on the earl, adding, “Including your grandson, Leo.”

Lord Godwin’s only reaction was to tighten his lips. But she was certain he did not look surprised. He had known.

“Grandson?” his wife repeated in a sharp tone that belied her show of debilitating weakness. She sat up straight in her chair, the hartshorn lying forgotten in her lap. “What do you mean? Surely you cannot be referring to that … that urchin!”

“That urchin is Leopold Jeremy Bellingham. He is six years old, and was Audrey’s only child.” Natalie returned her attention to the earl. “So you see, Lord Godwin, why I felt compelled to make this long journey. It was Audrey’s dying wish that I bring Leo to England to live with his family. I wrote to you twice about the matter, yet you never replied. Did you receive those letters?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. His gaze flickered as if he resented being forced to admit the truth. “One,” he said, “a fortnight ago. I had not yet decided how to respond.”