The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2), Sahara Kelly [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

She believed him to be gentle, caring—and also weak. But it was too soon to solidify her impressions, so she held her judgement in reserve for the moment.

“It is the gentleman who rescued you, my Lady,” said Gabriel in answer to her comment. “His name is Giles, and he’d like to speak with you for a little while.”

She shifted on the pillow. God knew that she could use some diversion, since she was as useless as a kitten and disliked it with every fibre of her being.

“Very well.” She tugged the sheets up, noting that her arms still lacked strength for even that minor task. She took a breath and fought for a composure she did not feel.

He walked to the bed and bowed, an appropriate greeting she appreciated. “My Lady. I am pleased to see you on the road to recovery.” He glanced at a nearby chair. “May I?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

He was tall, older than she’d imagined, and she didn’t recognise him at all. The touches of silver above his ears lent him an air of elegance, as did the neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were brown, and at this moment they were fixed on her face, revealing nothing.

Obviously a man who understood caution, as she herself had come to understand it.

He glanced at Gabriel and made a slight gesture with his head. Gabriel nodded, gave her a little bow, and left.

Then he turned back to her. “First let me ask how you are feeling?”

“A very common question, Mr Giles. To respond, as I have already done about a dozen times today, I am weak as a kitten, possessed of the ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice and most displeased by both.”

He inclined his head, amused. “I can only imagine your frustration. Thank you for your courtesy, but it’s just plain Giles, if you please. I am happy to say your comments indicate a mind that is now working clearly, even if the rest of you is still catching up.”

She blinked. “I should hope so.” Her eyes drifted to her hands, as she cleared her throat. “Was I not in my right mind earlier? When you found me?”

“You were barely alive, Ma’am.” His voice was quiet and emotionless. “There was no chance for conversation, nor did you have the inclination.”

“I was that bad?” She looked up.

He shifted on the chair, and she wondered if he was trying to find words or weighing his answer.

“Tell me the truth, if you please,” she instructed.

He nodded. “You were days away from death. You had obviously not eaten for far too long, and I believe your water supply had either run out or you were too weak to get to it. The cold was taking its toll and your meagre fire was all but out.” He smiled slightly. “Both the physical and the metaphorical.”

“I see.” She shuddered inside, holding tightly to the control that had always kept her head above the waters of confusion and emotion. I nearly died…

“Fortunately, I was able to intervene to prevent any further degradation of your person, my Lady. With the continued application of gentle care, warmth, liquids and light foods…as you can surely tell, you are not yet at full strength, but you are well on the way to attaining that goal.”

“I see I owe you my life, Giles,” she said calmly. “For which I am, of course, most grateful. However…” she paused, watching his every move, “that begs the question of why.”

“Why what, Ma’am?”

“Don’t be obtuse. You know full well the meaning of my question.” She snapped back at him, her fears lurking, nipping at her mind. “Why did you leave this place, Wolfbridge I’m told it’s called, and travel to where I was to—as Gabriel put it—rescue me?” She straightened, pushing herself back slightly into the pillows. “Are you acting as an agent of my stepson? Because if you are, if this is all a ruse to return me to…”

“Stop.” Giles frowned and the word was a sharply delivered command.

To her surprise, Gwyneth obeyed. She must be weaker than she realised.

“I am nobody’s agent. And no, I have not met your stepson. Ever.”

She got the impression he was trying for a little control as well.

“Should I have the misfortune to do so, you can rest assured that I will take pleasure in pointing out the error of his ways. Nobody should ever be deliberately placed in such a rundown hovel, such terrible life-threatening squalor. Nobody should be starved, deprived of the basics of humanity, or forced to share what little food there is with the rats that also share the dwelling.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but it seemed that Giles was in full spate.

“To condemn a woman, anyone, to such conditions is a monstrous act. To place a relative deliberately into such circumstances, is—in my opinion—tantamount to murder.”

“Ah.”

She couldn’t think of a response to that. Because she agreed with every single word.

“So to return to your question of why I travelled to the Kilham Abbey Dower House, it wasn’t necessarily to save your life—although it turned out that way—it was to collect you and bring you here so that you might assume the position that is rightfully yours.”

“And what position is that?” She eyed him with curiosity and not a little concern. What did he, and the other men, have in mind?

Giles leaned forward. “You, Lady Gwyneth, are the next Lady of Wolfbridge Manor.”

“What?”

“You have familial connections to the Wolfbridge line through a great-aunt. This connection brought you to the attention of Wolfbridge and the estate.” He took a moment, pausing to watch her response.

“I still don’t understand.”

“I must tell you many things, Lady Gwyneth. But first, and foremost, please know this. The position of Lady of Wolfbridge