And so the four of us turned to the directions we were heading. I looked over my shoulder as Weatherly led the way out of the ash stand and saw Evan do the same. Both of us watching the other through the trees until we were no longer in sight.

•   •   •

About ten minutes into our stumbling walk back, Weatherly stopped and turned to face me.

“My lady,” he began, “may I say something?”

“Of course,” I lisped. “Always.”

He was clearly agitated, his hands clenched before him. “I am sorry I could not get to you in time. I tried, but I could not free myself. Those men—”

“It was the plan,” I said quickly, ignoring the pain that came with speaking. “And Captain Morland did arrive in time.” I swallowed a sudden ache in my throat. “You did everything I asked, Weatherly, exactly as I asked, and put yourself in great danger. Thank you. Lord Evan and Mr. Kent would not have been saved without you.”

“But I cannot help but think what would have happened if the army had not arrived.”

“Well, it did not happen and Mulholland is dead.” I gave a watery smile and sniffed back a sudden rise of tears. “Is it awful of me to be glad that he is dead?”

Weatherly nodded. “Absolutely, my lady, but we shall be awful together, God forgive us.”

I laughed, a croaked, pained huff, but still a laugh, and it lightened the heaviness that I knew was going to haunt me. Weatherly always knew how to bring things to rights. Even so, the next had to be said, although I did not want to say it, for, in truth, I trusted him more than my own brother.

“If ever you do not want to follow me in these mad ventures, Weatherly, you must say so. Please do not feel obliged. You must do what is right for you. Do you promise?”

“I have always known that, my lady.” He looked up at the sky, through the branches. “You are your father’s daughter, and he was the best man I have ever had the honor of knowing.” He smiled. “I think he would have enjoyed your mad ventures. He had a few of them himself.”

“You must tell me one day,” I said.

“No, my lady. Your father’s secrets are as safe as your own.” He turned, then looked over his shoulder and cast me a droll look. “I think I recognize this stand of ash.”

“Indeed,” I said, matching his tone through the teary thickness in my throat. “So different from all the others.”

As it turned out, that stand of ash was not so far from one of our linen markers, and so our return to the road was reasonably quick. A good thing, too, since my stamina was fast collapsing under the pain, exhaustion, and nervous strain of the past few hours.