Dried wax clung to the wall sconce in ugly white rivulets. It must have been left burning unattended for a while. What few belongings Abigail possessed were spilled across the gloomy room—the straw mattress tossed over and sheets strewn everywhere. The bassinet from the corner of the room was gone and a storage box lay upside down, cracked.

Nausea rose in Louisa’s throat. Her room had looked similar after Eli and his men attacked her. Had the same thing happened to Abigail and the children? She cast a glance at Knight’s grim expression. He met her gaze, and she could see the answer—something terrible had happened to them.

“What sort of person would hurt children?” She moved to stand in the center of the squalid room and eyed the desolation.

“The sort who would hurt a woman,” Knight said, his jaw tight.

A hand to her mouth, she surveyed the room again, as though she might spot something that would tell her otherwise—that the children and Abigail were safe and had simply left for the day.

“I’ll go and find out if anyone saw anything.” Knight ducked out of the building, leaving the door ajar.

Strips of leaden-tinged daylight highlighted the devastation. A splintered chair sat abandoned on the floor as though it had been thrown against the wall in a fit of anger. Wind whistled down the chimney into the empty fireplace. She wrapped her arms about herself and shuddered. Oh Lord, what had she done? She’d brought this upon Abigail.

A hand to her arm made her whirl, a fist raised. She dropped it and sagged. “Forgive me.”

Knight shook his head and frowned. “You are upset.”

“Of course.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Are you not?”

“Yes, but...” His frown deepened. He reached up and swiped a tear from her cheek, leaving a cool patch on her skin.

She sniffed and swiped a hand across her eyes. “I did this.” She motioned to the barren room.

“Eli and his friends did this.”

“No, what I mean is...this is my fault. If I had not started asking questions, if I had stayed put in Cornwall...” She drew in a breath. None of it would have happened. Including bedding Knight.

And somehow she could not bring herself to regret that even though she had not lied when she had said they should not let it happen again. As much as she’d been frustrated by his reticence in the heat of the moment, the morning light had brought clarity and reminded her of all the reasons they should not be risking such behavior.

Especially when her heart began to ache every time she was near him. He made it clear he had no interest in having a woman in his life, and she would have to remember that.

“If you had stayed in Cornwall, we would not have found out about Hugh’s ruse, and you would lose the inn.” He took her arms in his hands, forcing her gaze to his. “This is all Hugh’s doing. Not yours, Louisa.”

There it was again. Her name on his lips, soft but penetrating, like cupid’s arrow aimed straight for her heart—piercing but with benevolent intentions. Her heart gave a little flutter as she looked into those deep, dark eyes. She glanced away before she gave anything away. They’d vowed to forget it a mere hour or so ago. She could not reveal she was weakening already.

She gulped past the tightening in her throat. “Did anyone see anything?”

He shook his head and removed his hat, tucking it under his arm and shoving a hand through his dark hair. Louisa fought to prevent herself from watching the display, recalling how those thick strands had felt between her fingers.

“Have you looked around?” he asked. “Seen if there is anything to tell us where she went?”

“No,” she admitted. She’d been too wrapped up in her guilt to think of doing something useful. What clues could there possibly be in this small dwelling, though? She rotated, surveying every inch of the room and frowned. “If this was Eli and his accomplices, why would they have come for me?”

Knight’s expression eased. “Abigail and the children must have escaped unharmed or else they would not have needed to come for you. Abigail is the one who can identify Hugh.”

A wave of relief washed over her, making her sag. She dropped onto the one unharmed chair and rested her chin on a hand. “Thank goodness. But where could they have gone?”

He lifted a shoulder. “No one could tell me much of her. No family in the area it seems.”

A piece of paper crumpled up in the fire place caught Louisa’s eye. She narrowed her gaze and rose to look closer. Plucking it up, she unfolded it. The writing was poor and smudged, as though written in haste. Knight peered over her shoulder.

“Abigail cannot have written this surely?” Not many women of her status could write. Louisa had been lucky that her father had insisted on teaching her before she worked on their farm, insisting that she would do better for herself. She tilted her head and eyed the words. “It makes no sense, either. But look—” She jabbed at the letter “—my name.”

“It’s in code.”

Louisa twisted to view Knight, her heart jolting at his nearness. “Code?”

He nodded and took the letter from her. “We used it in France. Perhaps Abigail learned it from Hugh if he served, though few foot soldiers acquired the skill.” He smirked. “I was a mere extra body, but I could read and write so I was tasked with communications at times.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. The life Knight had led before coming to Cornwall was full of tragic stories, she was certain of it. Drake—who was injured in battle—still suffered because of his experiences at times, according to Julianna. She had no doubt Knight had endured similar moments. If only he would open up to her about them.

Oh Lord, what was she thinking? This was Knight. He opened up to no one. She needed to cease these foolish wanderings of her mind and concentrate on the problem at hand.

“Can you decipher it? Is it from Abigail?” she pressed.

He ran his gaze over the letter a few times, his mouth moving silently with the words. “She sought shelter outside of town. A farmhouse four miles east, it says.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “She must have known they were coming for her.”

Louisa pressed a hand to her stomach. How did Abigail make it four miles with all those young children in the dead of night? Would they have arrived unmolested? Oh dear, if only they’d stayed with her or persuaded her to come with them or—

“There was nothing you could do. You could not have predicted this.”

She snapped her gaze up to his. How on earth did he read her so easily?

“I just wish...” She sighed. “I do not know, but I wish none of this had ever happened.”

Knight’s expression shuttered just as a flash of hurt creased his face. She cursed herself inwardly. That wasn’t what she had meant. Perhaps nothing should have ever happened between them, but she could not bring herself to wish it away.

“Knight...” She put a hand to his arm.

“We had better make haste. We need to ensure Abigail and the children are safe.” He folded the letter and tucked it into his breast pocket then put his hat back on.

“Of course.” Louisa straightened her shoulders and followed him out of the building, drawing the lopsided door shut behind her.

Knight directed the carriage driver to head east out of the town but vehicles clogged the streets, slowing their progress into the countryside. Louisa pressed a breath through her nose and twined her hands together. When she got her hands on Hugh...

“There’s a farmhouse. That must be it.”

Louisa looked in the direction to which Knight pointed. A ramshackle farmhouse broke the empty fields, its red brick a stark contrast to the yellowed fields around it. White sash windows peered out at the surrounding land and Louisa heard a dog barking as they neared.

Knight rapped his knuckles on the roof and the carriage rolled to a stop. Louisa had to force herself to disembark slowly from the vehicle. Lord, she prayed Abigail and the children were safe. She’d never forgive herself if she’d muddled them up in this and brought harm upon them.

A large scruffy dog with a coat of gray and pale-yellow streaks bounded up to Knight, barking. Knight paused and eyed the animal. Louisa grimaced. No doubt the animal saw Knight as a threat given his size.

“Here, doggy,” she called softly in a bid to distract him.

Knight tried to take a step forward but the dog shadowed him, preventing him from moving. Shaking his head, Knight dropped slowly to a crouch and offered out his hand. She could not make out what he was saying, but he murmured something to the animal.

“Perhaps I should—” Louisa paused when she noticed the dog had ceased barking. She cocked her head and observed as the dog slowly approached Knight, giving his fingers a tentative sniff then a lick. Knight scratched the animal’s head and the dog leaned into his hand.

“You are good with animals,” she murmured, unable to keep the astonishment out of her voice.

Knight shrugged his great shoulders. “We had dogs on my father’s estate.” He rose slowly and the dog lost interest and headed back to the house. “He is only doing his duty and protecting his property.”

The front door opened before they reached it and a short lady with a white frilly cap tied around her head stepped out. Before she could say anything, a man barreled up to them from the courtyard, a rifle in hand.