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talking to Sir Anthony. Mr. Garrett thinks that he and Jason may have fought and worries it resulted in Jason’s disappearance.’

Frances stiffened. ‘Sam is saying that to Sir Anthony?’ she asked in breathy whisper.

‘Yes. You see, Sir Anthony and Mrs Ludlow came here last night.’

Frances’s fingers gripped at the fabric of her blanket so tightly that Millie could see the white of her knuckles. She swallowed. ‘For me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sam took the blame for me? To protect me?’

‘He wanted to protect you, but I think he also believes that he might have some involvement.’

‘He shouldn’t have told Sir Anthony.’ Frances’s fingers picked nervously at her nightgown, finding a loose thread and twisting it about her finger.

‘Perhaps not, but he did,’ Millie said. ‘So the best thing we can do is to determine what really happened.’

‘You’ll help us? Why?’

Good question, Millie thought. Because she’d saved him once and did not want her good work undone? No, that was not true. It was too flippant. The reality was that the thought of Sam’s conviction hurt in a deep, all-encompassing way.

‘Because you need help and Sam is...nice,’ Millie said lamely, before continuing more briskly. ‘Can you tell me anything you can remember from the night Jason disappeared? Anything that would help?’

Frances continued to pluck nervously at her nightgown. Millie could hear the scratch of her fingers at the cloth. ‘Sam arrived earlier in the afternoon. I did not know he was coming, but I was glad to see him. Jason had never wanted him to come so I’d made excuses to keep him away. Anyway, we had dinner, all of us, me, Sam, Jason and his mother. And then I went to bed.’

‘You last saw Jason at dinner?’

‘No.’ Frances fell silent and then spoke in quick bursts of staccato speech. ‘He came up later. I do not know what time. He was angry because I had not looked happy enough. He said I looked like a miserable old hag. He said that Sam wanted me to go with him to London and that Sam thought he was a monster.’

‘And that was the last time you saw him.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you do not know if Sam saw him after that?’ Millie asked.

‘No.’

‘Or where Jason went after your fight?’

‘No.’ Frances paused again, looking at Millie, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. ‘I was just glad he had gone. Is that awful of me?’

‘Not at all. In fact, it was very practical in the situation.’

Frances gave a wan smile, even as the tears brimmed over, trickling down her cheek.

‘Why did he marry you?’ Millie asked.

Frances startled at the question. ‘I thought we were in love.’

‘That is why you married him. Why did he marry you?’

‘I thought he was in love, too. But I have an inheritance. Sam is only my half-brother. My birth father left money in trust to any male children I might have.’

‘So Noah is wealthy. But not you?’

‘I am comfortably placed, but I do not have a lot. Jason was...angry...when he found out.’ Frances spoke slowly, the words stilted. Millie felt sure there was a world of horror behind the simple phrase.

‘And do you have any idea why either Sam or Jason would go out to the sea in the middle of a storm?’

Frances shifted, her fingers clenching the blanket, scrunching the fabric into tight bunches of cloth.

‘What is it?’ Millie asked gently, clasping the other woman’s hand. Her fingers were cold and thin, her nails bitten low. Frances swallowed. Her gaze flickered about the room. ‘I do not know why Sam would be outside, but Jason...he has rough friends.’

‘Rough?’

‘Smugglers,’ she said, dropping her voice.

‘He was involved with the smuggling?’

‘And...’ Frances paused, biting her lip. Outside, Millie could hear morning birdsong, the drip of water from the gutters after the night’s rainfall and the rustle of branches against the eaves from a tree too near the house. ‘And worse,’ she finally said.

Frances’s voice was so low that Millie had to bend forward to hear the word. She clutched at Millie’s hand, her grip surprisingly strong, but with a wiry desperation.

Millie felt herself stiffen, as though the paralysis of her body was making up for the lightning-speed movement of her thoughts. ‘Can you tell me what you mean?’ she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

Frances swallowed, leaning even closer. ‘I... I do not know anything for certain, but he talks when he is drunk. I cannot understand everything that he says. But...it...it is bad.’ Frances’s words came out in a trembling, stammering rush.

She released Millie’s hand, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly. The baleen springs creaked with her movement. There was a wildness to her face that was both frightening and pathetic.

‘Is Jason involved in wrecking?’ Millie asked.

Frances’s gaze darted about the bedchamber, while hugging her knees even more fiercely. ‘I... I... I think about them...the people on the boats. I think about them all the time. I go down by the ocean and I think about them. I see their faces. I wonder if it is true. Sometimes I think it is. Sometimes I think it isn’t. I feel I should tell someone...but who would believe the ramblings of a mad woman...?’

‘Frances,’ Millie said gently but firmly. ‘You are not mad. You are very brave to have told me this. And I believe you.’

‘You do?’ The quick movement of her gaze stilled to rest on Millie’s face.

‘Yes, and I also think you are a wonderful mother to have taken Noah from that house. I want to talk to Sam, but rest assured that you will be safe here. I am going to leave both Flora and Marta to look after you.’

‘Will you tell?’

‘I will tell Sam. We will find proof. We will stop this and then the faces won’t worry you.’

Frances leaned back, allowing her legs to straighten on the bed and her hands to unclasp, as though finding some comfort and relief. ‘Please help Sam. He would never hurt anyone, but I worry he will take the blame.’

As do

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