Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [78]
Finding the identity of the traitor might be the only way to regain her trust and regard for him, Raleigh Trower—the man who had let her down too many times.
Dominick didn’t know the expression “to cool one’s heels” was literal. But after four hours in the cold confines of his bedchamber at the top of the house, avoiding a place where the wind forced rain through the tiny window, chilling one’s heels seemed a more appropriate commentary on his state.
He was a prisoner. Wilkins had made certain of that. He had dragged Dominick to the house and presented him to Mayor Kendall, whom Wilkins had just left.
Which didn’t account for Wilkins lurking in the alley behind the house.
Dominick spent much of his time pondering that inconsistency—and other matters like Raleigh Trower’s intention to destroy Dominick and Tabitha’s belief that Dominick had struck down her beau.
He flexed his bruised finger. He wished he had been the one to strike Trower. The man wanted him punished, wanted him set up to take the blame for a crime he hadn’t committed.
When he had committed so many for which he had gone unpunished.
Dominick thought perhaps he should have laughed at the irony. He held his head in his hands as he perched on the edge of his narrow bed, and felt the burden of the past six months pressing down on him like a roof beam. The parson had talked about forgiving seven times seventy. Dominick needed more than four hundred and ninety forgivenesses. An infinite number couldn’t redeem him, and now he was unlikely to redeem himself.
“I am too much a sinner for even your grace, God,” he murmured into the darkness of predawn.
The skin on his back tightened, preparing already for the bite of the lash. Sickness knotted his middle. Not again. He couldn’t endure that again. He’d rather hang or end up weeding tobacco twelve hours a day.
He doubted the former would be his fate. He hadn’t run away, after all. And he could get used to the back-breaking field labor.
But he’d never see Tabitha again.
If Kendall exercised his right to whip Dominick, would she come to tend his wounds? Or would she refuse because she thought he had harmed another man?
It shouldn’t matter. He’d already lost her to Trower. The man had abandoned her, but lifelong ties mattered. He had a family to love her, and his freedom.
Dominick’s family would despise her, and he wasn’t a free man until he completed his mission. Away from the coast, he would never succeed. In four years, Tabitha would be wed to Raleigh and likely a mother. Besides that, Dominick’s family would never accept her, would find further reason to reject him—too many of those reasons justifiable.
He wasn’t supposed to fall in love. Yet he had. He loved her, adored her, wanted to see her face when he woke and before he went to sleep. He ached for the soothing lightness of her touch and the sound of her melodious voice.
But he had rejected God, all for the sake of having his own way. Not having Tabitha in his life was simply one more consequence of his actions.
And other consequences were coming. Above the drum of rain on the roof, he heard the tread of feet on the narrow staircase to his attic room. Footfalls too heavy to belong to one of the twins, too light to belong to Kendall. Unless the mayor had sent up the man who kept up the garden and horses and other outdoor chores, Dominick would find Letty on the other side of his door when it opened. He braced himself for the lash of her tongue.
The key grated in the lock. Dominick rose, bantering words forming on his tongue.
The handle turned. The door swung in. Letty’s tall, narrow frame filled the doorway.
“I told you that you were going to get caught,” were the first words from her mouth. “I hope you’ve got a strong back. Kendall doesn’t take lightly to his servants disobeying him.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t.” Dominick rolled his shoulders. “Will you, hmm, say a prayer for me?”
“My dear boy, I say a lot of prayers for you.” Letty’s sharp features softened. “There’s something wrong with you