Bridget twisted her hands together. “He’s come, then,” she mumbled.
“Who?” asked Eugenia but her voice was drowned by the sound of hammering at the door. She heard Gregor respond and the visitor stepped in. He spoke, and Eugenia’s heart nearly ceased to beat.
It was her husband, the Marquis.
Hearing him, such relief swept over her that she realised, almost with dismay, that she had been longing to hear his voice since the moment she had set foot in this cottage.
Sure that he had come for her, she leapt to her feet and rushed to the door, only to have Bridget step resolutely in her way. She opened her mouth to cry out but Bridget raised a warning finger to her lips.
“I know what you’re thinking, miss, but you’re wrong. He hasn’t come to fetch you home. He doesn’t even know you’re he
