‘Please thank Miss Kellow and her father for me,’ she added as Talek inclined his head goodbye. ‘Miss Kellow was so kind and calm. I don’t know how I would have coped if she had not been here.’

Talek forced a smile. He could not promise to pass on her thanks and would not lie to her now. Instead he had inclined his head, although this time a little more stiffly.

‘I’m sure you would have coped.’ He offered her a stiff smile. ‘Goodnight.’

The door of Roseland opened as he approached. His servants were well trained or they had heard and were looking out for him, whatever the reason, he realised he didn’t care. He asked for his sister and was informed she was in the drawing room. To the servant’s surprise, he went straight there.

Amelia’s horrified expression, when he entered, caused him to look down at his clothes and hands. They were still covered in clay soil, which had begun to dry and crack, tightening the fabric and the skin on his hands. How had he not noticed before? He looked behind him at the trail of mud he had left on their carpet.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess.’ The apology, which was both inadequate and explained nothing, sounded strange to his ears, but what else was there to say? How does one start to explain the events that had just unfolded?

‘It doesn’t matter,’ reassured his sister.

‘I must have looked a pretty sight as I walked through the village.’

‘It is nothing that a bath cannot sort out.’

‘Yes, a bath. If only everything could be so easily sorted.’ He summoned a servant. The housekeeper immediately appeared at the door. ‘Prepare the bath for me. And a clean set of clothes.’ He thought of Grace and added, ‘Thank you.’ He waited for her to leave. ‘Have you heard?’ He knew, from his sister’s pained expression that she had. Word spread quickly amongst the clay community. The staff was looking out for his arrival after all.

‘Yes. Was it very terrible?’

‘For me? I will survive. One man did not. Save your sympathy for his family.’ He remained where he stood. Too dirty to sit. Too dirty to pace. Impotent. Incompetent. In shock.

‘They said the landslide could not have been predicted.’

His sister meant well.

‘I may have been able to predict it if I had bothered to look.’

‘The Cornish weather is changeable. If we closed the pit every time it rained, it would be closed half the year. Landslides are not common. You couldn’t have known.’

It helped a little to hear his sister repeat what the logical part of his brain had voiced — but only a little.

‘Thank God they are not.’ Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but Talek stopped her by raising his hand. ‘Please, Amelia. Don’t be nice. I’m hanging on by a thread at the moment. Perhaps later, after a bath, I will feel up to discussing it further.’

Silence descended, Amelia uncertain what to say and he too weary to try. His mind wandered back to digging for bodies and the relief he had felt to discover Billy was still alive. The boy had been a breath away from death — as he had himself only moments later. He felt a wave of nausea pass through his body at the thought.

‘Did Grace find you?’

He blinked at his sister’s question. ‘Grace? Yes.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. We talked. Nothing has changed between us. She helped with an injured man and accompanied him home. I don’t expect to see her again.’ He didn’t feel strong enough to think of Grace. He looked down at his body, the cloth of his clothes stiffening with each minute that passed, flakes dropping onto the carpet like shards of icing. ‘I expect the bath will be ready now.’ He turned abruptly and left the room before his sister could ask him more questions. His voice had remained steady, but it was only a matter of time before it betrayed him.

Talek climbed the stairs, like a weary old man, and went directly to his room. He listened to the flurry of servants preparing his bath, and was relieved when they finally informed him it was ready and disappeared. He went to the bathroom, which had only recently been updated with a water heating system, shut the door and locked it. He paused to collect his thoughts, as he stared at his hand resting on the lock. It looked like a labourer’s hand, dirty and scratched. He breathed in deeply, braced himself and began to undress, slowly discarding the clay caked clothes in a pile by the door.

He stepped into the steaming bath and lowered himself down. It was far too hot for comfort, but somehow the pain helped him. The discomfort was what he deserved, after all. He sluiced his face and hair, lay back in the water and thought of Grace. She had been a beacon of beauty amidst the carnage of his day. He had refused to accept her excuse and he had told her to go away. He should feel as if he had the upper hand now, that he had scraped some of his dignity off the floor. He was in the right after all and she deserved his rejection. So why did it hurt so much to see her leave and why, now that he had hit rock bottom, it was her comfort he wanted?

He slipped lower in the water. One man badly injured, another dead. How do you live with that? His reputation was at risk and he faced an uphill struggle to rebuild it. His partner had not only betrayed him in business, but married his first love under his very nose. This last betrayal had, he had to admit, damaged his pride more than his heart. Margaret was still beautiful, but the woman no longer enthralled him as she had once done. It was Grace, with her flaming hair and emerald eyes, who had burrowed into his heart when she had arrived at Roseland — and ripped it apart when she had left.

He sunk lower into the now cooling water. It lapped at his nostrils, attempting to suffocate him. He wondered how much he would have to drink to not fight the urge to survive drowning in a shallow bath. He lowered his head beneath the surface and looked up through the water at the distorted ceiling above him. Only an hour ago he had been fighting for his life, but now he could not stop thinking how tempting it would be to remain in this watery coffin and leave this life behind.

* * *

Amelia glanced at the clock. An hour had passed since her brother had left for his bath, an extraordinary amount of time for him. He was not the sort of man that soaked and pampered himself, yet he was not in the right frame of mind to work. She considered asking one of the servants as to his whereabouts, but decided against it. Talek had returned weary and troubled and he would not take kindly to being disturbed for the sole purpose of his sister learning what he was up to.

Another minute dragged by, then another. Finally, to both her relief and dread, she heard her brother’s footsteps in the hall. She quickly eased her wheelchair to face the door so she could see his face as he entered. Grace had turned up at Roseland prior to the accident, hoping to speak to Talek and she was eager to know what Grace had told him.

The door opened briskly and Talek entered, his hair sleek from his recent bath and a mild fragrance of soap accompanying him into the room. He remained sombre, with dark shadows furrowing his brow. The news of the landslide had been shocking and Amelia knew her brother had taken it personally. Her heart ached for all he had to endure and what was to come.

Talek walked straight to the side table and poured himself a generous glass of port. He drained it immediately and refilled a second, before coming to sit in the chair opposite her. His evasive gaze told her all he did not voice.

‘The warm water has done nothing to relax you. You appear as tense as when you arrived home an hour ago. It is just as well I do not fancy a glass of port right now or I would have taken offence that you did not offer me one.’

Her teasing had little effect on his mood; instead Talek closed his eyes and began to massage his brow. Amelia’s heart throbbed painfully in her chest. He looked so tired these days.

‘It’s not your fault, Talek. Accidents happen all the time in mining.’

‘I’m the owner. It is our second in six months.’

‘It is in your nature to feel responsible, even when it is not within your control.’

‘Then you should know that your well-meaning reassurances will make no difference.’ He let his head rest against the back of the seat. ‘I cannot un-feel my responsibilities. A man died at my mine. It is fortunate more did not.’

They fell into a painful silence as mere words of comfort seemed inadequate somehow. After some minutes, Amelia could hold her tongue no longer. She had to know what Grace had told him. She began to worry a loose thread on her shawl.

‘Grace was anxious to see you.’

Talek drained his second glass.

‘Did she stay long?’

‘I’m tired, Amelia. I would rather not discuss Grace.’ Talek placed his empty glass on the table beside him and rested his hands on the arms of the chair. With an idle finger, he began to trace the swirl of the pattern on the arm of the chair. ‘The landslide happened while Grace was there. She tended to the wounded.’

Despite her brother’s resistance to speak of her, Amelia could still hear the tenderness in his voice. She snapped the loose thread with her fingers and cast it aside.

‘What did she want to see you about?’

‘She wanted me to know why she had not told me about Henry’s fraudulent activities.’ Talek lifted his gaze to look at her and she felt her heart begin to race. Had Grace told him that she knew about Henry’s contract?

‘And what did she say?’

‘It doesn’t matter. It changes nothing.’

‘Please, Talek, tell me.’

Talek stared at his empty glass. ‘She told me that Henry was blackmailing her. He threatened to disclose the truth about her parentage and she did not want me to know. I told her that it would not have mattered to me . . . or words to that effect.’ Talek grew restless and stood. ‘We should arrange for a new companion for you. You should not have to suffer because Grace has left us.’