Page 82 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
He turned the letter around and showed it to her, watching her face as it morphed into a mask of horror. Now, it looked as though he was being targeted, alongside Henrietta and her father.
It was only a matter of time until this wretch involved me.
“What do you think it means?” she asked, her lip trembling.
“I think it means that I will have to watch over you, every hour of every day until we bring this man to justice,” Ewan replied firmly, reaching out to touch her hand. He smiled to reassure her, though he felt a grip of fear in his chest. Mr. Booth meant business, and it frightened Ewan to his core. He could not bear the idea of losing Henrietta, not now. He had already lost so much.Please, no more, I beg of you. I cannot lose her, too.
“Do you think he knows about the ball yet?” Henrietta wondered.
Ewan paused in thought. “From the letter, it would appear he has some plan in mind. Fortunately for us, he does not yet know whatourplans are. He shall be in for a harsh surprise, if he tries to harm you at the ball. Your father’s men and I will see to that.”
“What would I do without you, My Lord?” A nervous smile edged onto her lips.
“You are mistaken, My Lady. It is, what wouldIdo withoutyou? Your mind is more voracious than any man I know, and sharper than a pin. Indeed, we would not even have such a plan if it were not for you.”
She chuckled. “It is my physician’s mind, turning its attention elsewhere until I may become such a person.”
“I wish it well in its endeavors. Not only with this plan, but with your future letters to the medical establishments of our nation. They cannot ignore you forever,” he said with encouragement.
“So, you have changed your mind? You believe I can achieve my future hopes?”
He shrugged casually. “Right now, I believe you are capable of anything you set your mind to. Becoming a physician is not excluded, though I would urge you not to use my name again.”
“I will not. Otherwise, the victory would not be as sweet.”
“You are quite right. Now, are you finished with your luncheon? Shall we return to the Old Bell, or would you care to walk along the promenade?”
She smiled. “A walk sounds wonderful. I need some exertion to take my mind off that letter.”
“It troubles you?”It troubles me.
“Somewhat, though it is no more worrying than the letters that my father and I received. Mr. Booth is set in his decisions, and we cannot change that. All we may do is stop him, and we have a means to do it. There is no use in distressing myself until the day of the ball comes.”
Ewan chuckled softly. “You are as wise as you are beautiful, My Lady.”
“Then I must not be very fair,” she teased.
“You are mistaken, My Lady. You are very fair indeed.”
A few minutes later, they found themselves wandering along the promenade, Henrietta’s hand looped through his arm. The weather was not particularly fine, with a light spray beginning to spatter down from the pale clouds overhead, but they did not mind. They were content to walk together, regardless of the weather. Indeed, it could have been snowing and Ewan would not have cared. Henrietta had a way of making people forget their woes.
The sea crashed and lurched to the left of them as they walked, with seagulls wheeling above. Fishing boats bobbed precariously way out toward the horizon, and other pedestrians pulled their collars tighter to keep out the chill. Winter was firmly on its way, though the last breaths of autumn had yet to be exhaled. A few bronzed leaves lingered on the trees, and the frost melted quickly of a morning.
“It is beautiful here,” Henrietta sighed, her gaze fixed on the turbulent waters.
“It is a harsh beauty at times, but yes… it is rather lovely.” Ewan smiled down at her, admired her profile as she wandered along contentedly. He liked to see her at peace, which had been a rarer occasion of late, with all these letters arriving with such ominous messages.
Just as Ewan was about to suggest they turn back, Henrietta froze beside him. Her eyes were large, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Ewan followed her line of sight, wondering what had stunned her with such immediacy.
There, loitering beside one of the carts selling roasted hazelnuts, stood Isobel Booth. Or, whoever she truly is.The woman turned, her expression morphing into one of fear as she noticed Ewan and Henrietta. Without warning, she turned and ran, sprinting away before either of them could chase after her.
“Who is she?” Henrietta rasped, her breath ragged.
“I do not know, My Lady, but I do know one thing.”
“What is that?”
“The innocent do not run.”
