“Perhaps it isn’t too late.”
Annabelle’s breathing finally deepened and slowed.
Mrs. Burdock glanced at Eugenie. “She’s asleep,” she said, with obvious relief. “When I saw her fall into the canal I thought she was a goner for sure. I can’t tell you how many dead ’uns my Jack hauls
out of that canal, some fallen in by accident, others by purpose. Breaks your heart, it does.”
Eugenie managed a wry smile at the mention of broken hearts. She knew it wasn’t Annabelle’s fault the magic spell that had held Eugenie and Sinclair in its thrall had unraveled. If Sinclair hadn’t been here when his sister fell, then she would have drowned and then where would they all be? No, it was just the way things turned out. She’d known all along that the end must come to their idyll at some point, and now it was here.
Mrs. Burdock was kind enough to agree to sit with Annabelle, and Eugenie made her way downstairs.
Terry was seated alone at the table, but he jumped up as soon as he saw his sister.
“Annabelle . . . ?”
“Lady Annabelle is asleep,” Eugenie said briskly. Then, taking pity on him, she said, “She’s perfectly well, Terry. Just a little shaken.”
He looked exhausted and relieved, and for a moment he seemed so much like the little boy she remembered from their childhood that she put her arms around him and held him close.
“You are a fool,” she said huskily. “How could you have done such a thing? She would never have married you, Terry.”
Terry squeezed her tight before letting her go. “I know. She isn’t so bad as you think, Genie. Besides, I met Lizzie, and that made it all worthwhile.”
“Hmm. Lizzie, is it? You realize Father and Mother were quite mad with grief when they read your letter. Mother thought you’d go to gaol for certain.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and then gave Eugenie a sly look. “I’ll bet Father wasn’t mad with grief. He probably thought he’d have a wealthy daughter-in-law to borrow money from.”
“Terry,” she said sharply.
“Somerton has offered to buy me a commission in the army,” he told her proudly. “He just wants to get me away from home, of course, but I think it’s decent of him to offer, don’t you? I always wanted to go into the army, Genie.”
It was generous, but then Sinclair was a generous man. She told her brother she was glad for him, scolded him again for worrying them all so, and then gave him another hug.
“Here now, girl, I’m going to be a soldier now. Soldiers need to be brave. They can’t be cuddled like babies.”
She chuckled. “Well, soldier, here’s a question for you. How are we to get home? Have you any money left?”
He looked comically blank. “I thought . . .”
“That the duke and his sister would take us? No, Terry, we can hardly ride in their coach now can we? We are trying to avoid a scandal, not make another one. You and I must find our own way home.”
“But,” he began, eyeing her knowingly.
Eugenie gave him a stern look. “But?”
“Well, it seemed to me that the duke and you might be . . . well, that he was more fond of you than you let on.”
“Don’t be silly, Terry,” she said, her voice giving away the lie. “He is a duke, after all, and dukes don’t allow themselves to become fond of women like me. Now you come with me while I talk to our captain and see what ideas he has. Maybe he can take us as far as Manchester.”
Captain Johnno was brushing down Rufus, the big horse standing patiently, enjoying the attention. They both glanced up as Eugenie and Terry approached along the towpath.
“The young lady has taken no permanent hurt then?”
Eugenie assured him Lady Annabelle was resting but should be perfectly all right when she woke.
Slowly, a little embarrassed, she explained her and her brother’s predicament. Johnno thought a moment and then suggested they make their way to a town some five miles to the east of the lock, where they could get the mail coach south. “There’s a reasonable coaching inn you can wait at,” he said. “It’s clean and the landlord is an honest man.”
“We have no money,” Terry informed him bluntly.