Whispers from the Shadows by Roseanna M. White Read Free Book Online

his arm and then swept across the yard, her arms extended toward Miss Fairchild. “Gwyneth dear.”
    Thad edged closer, his gaze not leaving the haunted face of his supposed guest. The way she blinked made him wonder if it took hera few seconds to process the greeting, or if perhaps her vision were unclear. When she attempted a curtsy, her knees buckled, and the woman behind her had to steady her.
    â€œMrs. Lane?” Her tremulous voice was as wispy as a cloud.
    â€œYes.” Mother took the girl’s hands and squeezed them. Though Thad could not see her face, he knew the smile she would give Miss Fairchild, all warm welcome and limitless compassion. “I daresay you do not remember me, but I fondly recall our last visit. Welcome to Maryland.”
    â€œI thank you. Papa…Papa sent me to you. He said there was no one else he could…” The trail of her voice sounded not as though she was unsure of what to say next, but rather as if she forgot she had been speaking. Her gaze wandered past Mother and locked upon him.
    Where manners said he should take his cue to step forward and welcome her to his home, those eyes held him riveted. A blue-green to put the Caribbean waters to shame, just as light and clear, just as fathomless.
    And just as troubled as the sea when a tempest tossed it.
    His fingers curled into his palm. Why had Fairchild sent his daughter here, now, to him? Clearly she had something more than seasickness stalking her, something born of the storms within herself. And, blast it all, Thad hadn’t the time to put her pieces back together.
    As if reading his thoughts, Mother sent him a pointed look and moved one palm across the other. Be nice.
    As if he needed to be told that.
    His mother tucked her arm securely around Miss Fairchild’s waist and led her forward. “Allow me to make introductions, as no doubt you two do not recall each other. This is my son, Thaddeus. ’Tis his house in which we will all be staying for the duration of the war.”
    The nearer his mother brought her, the more intense her gaze seemed. When they halted, she tilted her head back to look up at him. Searching, it seemed, for something to latch onto. After a moment she drew in a sharp breath and let it slowly out. “You gave me a doll.”
    He nearly chalked it up to meaningless prattle—until the memory descended and brought a smile to his lips. “The one I had been whittling for my cousin. But she was a fright and you were far more charming.” He remembered her now, small and dainty, with a riot of red-gold curls and mischief sparkling in those oceanic eyes.
    Eyes that now went damp, though surely not over that ugly littledoll. “My father trusts you.”
    So it would seem. Or else he intended to use him for some complex scheme. Though that, somehow, did not fit with the image he had of General Isaac Fairchild.
    He held out a hand and, when she settled her fingers upon his, bowed. “Your father is one of the best men in my acquaintance, Miss Fairchild, no matter that politics has once again deemed us enemies.”
    For a moment he feared she would burst into tears, the way her face contorted, but then it relaxed and she swayed. Mother steadied her, but perhaps she overcompensated, for the girl then teetered forward. Thad had little choice but to release her hand so he could catch her when her knees buckled again.
    He pulled her against him when she went lax. The older woman who must be her servant fluttered up, her countenance cloaked in worry. “Did she faint? Oh, my poor love.”
    He looked down at the young woman, but her face was not the empty mask of one who had fainted, nor did she hang limp in his arms. Her arm had curled against his chest, her cheek pressed to it. Her breath came in and out, slowly and steadily.
    â€œNay.” He bent enough to scoop her up, and she didn’t so much as stir. “She is sleeping.”

Five
    G wyneth jerked