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“Good idea, Tessa.” He folded his arms and gazed at the beasts.

“I will acquire some dogs on the morrow. To help look out for us.” He glanced about as though a guest and not its owner.

“This estate belonged to my mother’s brother, who died without children.

Twas provided for me.” He shrugged. “I am ashamed I’ve done little here. ”

His shame would never end.

I placed my hand on his arm. “But you are here now. Ready to do some good, I think.”

“If a Chinworth can be of any good…I will do my best.”

I sat on a faded chair by a cold hearth. The housekeeper brought in the chocolate, quickly served us, and lit a few candles about the room. “Give me an hour, Master Chinworth, and you three can retire for the night.”

I followed Tobias’ gaze to the flickering candle flame. A chill draft blew in and snuffed it out. Cecily cried, “Ghost!” She clutched onto me and trembled. Much as she had done that night—the night Zachary had died.

I snapped my gaze to the doorway. A man lingered, a deathly pallor to his sunken cheeks. His graying dressing gown and nightcap contrasted with a long white beard that flowed down his chest.

“What’s this?” His chin trembled. “My own flesh and blood come to grace Burtins Hall? To what gain for yourself?” His accusation must be meant for Tobias. But why?

Tobias stood, confused. “What on earth? Uncle! I was under the impression that you had—that you—” He was utterly bewildered. “What is going on here?”

The man seemed amused. “What? That I’d died? Your father wishes it, to be sure.”

“But the death notice came and your name was on it. Yours. None other.”

The man grunted. “Death notice? He cocked his chin. “Come to do me in have you? Playing the Grim Reaper for your dear old father?”

“Of course not. Why would Father wish you gone? Indeed, you attach to him a violence he is not capable of.”

Yet, I could see the question in Tobias’s eyes. Was his father capable of murder? He was imprisoned and awaiting trial for a past wrong but not that particular form of evil. If a man was capable of one kind of vile deed, then mayhap another.

The old uncle spat. “And yet he molders in the gaol, does he not?”

Tobias tossed me a quick glance. “I saw your death notice. Was even in the London papers. I swear to you, I read it with my own eyes.”

He folded his berobed arms. “How long ago was this?”

“But two months past.”

“Why didn’t you care to come see me buried yourself, eh?” He pointed to Tobias, but looked at me. “You see how he cares not for his own relation. Bah.” He clicked his teeth, or what remained of them, as the kind housekeeper gently pushed him aside from blocking the doorway.

“Mr. Mulls, you are out of bed and like to catch your death.”

“You want me to die too, is that it?”

“Posh man. Get you back to bed. You aren’t well enough yet, and the injury has yet to heal.”

Tobias started. “Injury? What kind of injury?”

Mr. Mulls’s nightcap slipped, revealing long gray strands of hair. “My dear boy, at exactly two months past, Burtins was robbed and I was shot.”

A robbery too. How shocking!

Tobias seemed at loose ends. And too tired to deal with more problems. “What was stolen that was worth such an injury? There’s hardly anything valuable here.”

The housekeeper grimaced as she counted on fingers. “One, the saltbox, two, the sugar box, and,” she hesitated, “three the silver box .”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I understand the value of silver, but who would risk all for salt and sugar?”

To one who lived a privileged life, salt and sugar must seem like nothing.

Mulls pressed a hand to his chest. “I was shot defending your precious silver, boy. About paid with my life so you might eat like a rich lad whilst here. Don’t know why or how a death notice came of the incident.”

Cecily’s grip tightened as she pressed her face to my side.

“Mr. Chinworth, I believe your sister might need a good story and a long rest after today’s long journey.

” I grew increasingly concerned about Cecily’s probable unrest—potentially a long, disturbed night ahead if they kept this discussion up.

Such topics wouldn’t be good if she were here to heal. “What say you?”

He nodded but continued despite my subtle warning to stop the fearsome talk. “Why would someone wish to make the world believe you’d died?”

“Bah, I do not know. I’m of no value to dear Albion or beyond.”

The housekeeper placed a hand on each hip. “Nonsense, Mr. Mulls. The village children think you are an absolute angel. Now off to bed with you.”

“Mrs. Fredrickson, I do not look an angel.” He turned back to Tobias. “We shall have words, Tobias Chinworth. Come morning.” He turned and left the room.

Cecily tugged Tobias’s jacket. “Samuel came here. Two months ago. He told me to keep it a secret.”

Tobias turned at her words, concern lining his face. “Did he? How did you find out about it?”

She cocked her head to the side as though he were daft. “Same way I find out anything. I sneaked and listened in.”

I could tell he was trying to keep his surprise hidden. Not that either of us could be entirely shocked by her shenanigans of the past months. “Did you? And did he give you a present for keeping quiet?”

Her face colored pink. “I didn’t know anyone would get hurt. Is it my fault?”

“No, child. Not at all. Don't even think that way.” Tobias and I shared another look.

She’d been taught to lie and manipulate.

Rewarded for it. And had experienced firsthand the darkness of such dealings.

Since then, she’d been working so hard at being honest an honest girl—no more lying.

I believed she told the truth. There would be no recompense for her except for our trust, which she desired above all.

But what had Samuel been doing here? It wasn’t his estate to be concerned about.

And was it he that shot at this aged distant uncle?

And stole the salt, sugar, and silver? So strange.

My mind ran away with me. Samuel was guilty of bad things.

That didn’t also mean he was guilty of shooting at his uncle.

We were whisked away to our rooms with the greater question following the heels of every thought. Were we truly safe here?