“Yes, my lady.” Greaves, a perfect example of his kind, showed no satisfaction as he hurried forward to offer Lord Granville his hat and gloves, but his step was bouncier than usual.

“You’ll regret this.” Lord Granville shook his head slowly, heavily, like an enraged bull. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mr. Pye was suddenly at George’s side. She fancied she could feel his warmth even though he touched her not at all.

“The door is this way, my lord,” Greaves said, and the footmen moved to flank Lord Granville.

She held her breath until the big oak doors banged shut. Then she blew it out. “Well. At least he is out of the manor.”

Mr. Pye brushed past her.

“I haven’t finished talking to you,” George said, irritated. The man could at least thank her before leaving. “Where are you going?”

“I have some questions that need answering, my lady.” He bowed briefly. “I promise to present myself to you by tomorrow morning. Anything you have to say to me can be said then.”

And he was gone.

George slowly unclasped her fist and looked again at the elfin hedgehog. “And what if what I have to say can’t wait until tomorrow?”

GODDAMN HARRY PYE and that haughty bitch as well! Silas Granville kicked his black gelding into a gallop as he left the Woldsly Manor gates. The animal tried to shy at the sting of the spurs, but Silas was having none of it. He yanked viciously on the reins, driving the bit into the soft sides of the horse’s mouth until the animal tasted the copper of its own blood. The gelding subsided.

To what end did Lady Georgina protect Harry Pye? It wouldn’t be long before Silas returned, and when he did, he’d be sure to bring a small army. She wouldn’t be able to prevent him from dragging Pye away.

The gelding hesitated at the ford in the stream that divided Granville land from the Woldsly estate. The stream was wide and shallow here. Silas spurred the horse, and it splashed into the water. Bright drops of blood swirled and mixed with the current and were swept away downstream. The hills rolled up from the stream, hiding the approach to Granville House. A man on foot, carrying baskets on a yoke across his shoulders, was in the lane. He scrambled to the side at the sound of the gelding’s hoofbeats. As Silas rode by, the man doffed his cap. Silas didn’t bother acknowledging him.