Chapter Eight
The screams woke me again that night. It had been a few nights since I’d heard them, and it startled me so that I nearly jumped straight out of my bed.
I was still pulling on my wrapper as I walked quickly toward the gallery.
“Lord Marcus! My lord, what is the matter?” I asked, as his moans filled the house with such misery I thought my heart would break. He seemed to be saying something over and over again as he wept.
I listened closely. It sounded like a name. Rachel? Yes, he seemed to be cursing someone named Rachel. I could barely make it out, but I thought I’d give it a try. Anything was better than listening to such torment.
“My lord,” I said quietly, even going so far as to reach out to touch the frame of his portrait. “My lord, please, tell me why you are so ups
