Page 16 of Fatal By Design
“To fetch the ‘it’ his letter mentioned?” An idea cropped up. “The ring, perhaps?”
“Possibly. We shouldn’t speculate just yet, not with so little information to go on.”
Audrey narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed, even though he had the right of it. Not that she would admit as much.
Hugh held the letter he was skimming aloft. “Cartwright. He writes here that he has been waiting for what feels like a lifetime to call herLady Cartwright.”
“Reggie Cartwright. Reginald, presumably. Have you heard of a Lord Cartwright?”
The creaking of floorboards on the landing outside the bedchamber alerted them to the housekeeper’s return. Audrey quickly gathered the pile of letters and stuffed them into the pocket of her skirt, grateful she had them sewn into all her skirts, even if they were unfashionable. It would have taken twice as long to open her reticule and deposit them in there.
Hugh lowered his voice, met her eyes, and said, “Keep your lamp lit. I will find you tonight,” a mere second before Mrs. Larson swept back into the room, breathless, and with a pitcher of water and a glass, already filled.
Audrey sipped it, her ears burning, and not just with her poor acting. Hugh’s promise should not have excited her as much as it did. But they needed to go over the letters together, in private, didn’t they? Without the housekeeper looking on. For if Millie hid these letters, she was surely hiding the man’s interest from her staff. Why? Who was he if he had been in India? And what sort of trouble had he brought back with him?
ChapterSeven
Hugh paced his guest room until just after midnight, then decided it was time.
Opening the door, he sighed in relief to find the landing empty. Audrey had heeded his instruction and kept her lamps lit; from the base of her guest room’s door, dim light flooded the carpet. Earlier, after Hugh and Audrey had searched the driver’s and maid’s rooms and found nothing of note, they’d been shown to their respective rooms. A light meal had been delivered, but Hugh had barely taken a bite as he’d waited for the house to quiet.
Now, he rapped a soft knock upon her door. Being caught trying to enter a lady’s bedchamber would certainly reflect poorly on them both, and if Grimes and Mrs. Larson were vigilant, they would be sending a footman every now and again to check on the upstairs landing.
Hugh had contemplated waiting until morning to speak to Audrey about the letters, but he had another reason for insisting on a private meeting that night.
I have something to tell you,she’d said earlier.It’s about Philip.
Whatever it was, Hugh suspected he wasn’t going to like it.
The door opened an inch, and then all the way as Audrey hauled him inside. She wore her hair in a single plait and a blue silk banyan over her nightgown. Greer had brought along a small bag, to provide a change of clothes and her night things. He breathed in the camellia soap she had washed with.
“We must go to Haverfield,” she whispered as soon as the door clicked shut behind her. “I’ve read the letters. They were in love, Millie and Lord Cartwright. Of course, we only have his letters to go by, but the way he worded them made it sound as though Millie reciprocated his feelings.”
Hugh nodded. He’d already worked it out for himself that they would have to pay Hertfordshire a visit. Thankfully, Haverfield was in the southern part of the county.
“You think Lord Cartwright will be there, waiting for her?”
She nodded, then tugged the banyan tighter around her. It had not slipped, but she suddenly seemed uncomfortable. Perhaps for good reason. The last time he’d been alone with her in a bedchamber, her own at Violet House, he’d nearly taken her to bed. She’d all but asked him to. The only thing stopping him had been his refusal to share Audrey with the duke, even if she and the duke were not lovers but chaste friends.
Now, that obstacle had been erased. And he felt like the worst piece of shite for being happy about it. But after her odd comment in the field that afternoon, he knew he could not rest until she told him what she’d meant to say.
“Earlier, you said you had something to tell me.”
Audrey stiffened, her fingers picking at the silk sleeve of her robe. She licked her lips and nodded. “You’re going to be angry with me.”
Hugh frowned. He’d been angry with her before, to be sure. Hesitation stole over him; she’d paled a little. Whatever it was she had to say, she was truly worried.
He stepped forward but didn’t reach for her arms, the way he longed to. Something told him she would only flinch away. “Let me decide about that.”
A breath juddered in her throat, and she closed her eyes. As if she couldn’t bear to look at him. Fear that she was about to confess that she no longer held feelings for him sliced deep. But then, what she did say cut far deeper.
“Philip…” She paused, then started again. “Philip didn’t die. He wants everyone to believe he did, but the truth is, he didn’t drown. He has simply left.”
The room swallowed her confession. In the silence that followed, Hugh couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. For several moments, he questioned if he’d heard her correctly. Or if he had, in fact, fallen asleep in his room and this was not reality, but a nightmare.
Slowly, Audrey’s lashes parted, and when she saw Hugh standing there, statuesque, she blinked. “Say something.”
Barely leashed fury clipped his words. “Where is he?”
