Page 85 of Suddenly a Bride
~oOo~
Earl Langston was sitting at his elaborately carved desk in his withdrawing chamber when his wife swept in, holding a bedraggled, folded piece of paper between two fingers.
“This arrived for you, my lord. The man insisted that I see it into your hands personally, and then he fled.”
Langston arched a brow and set aside his quill, inspecting his fingers meticulously for ink before he reached out a hand to his wife. She gave him the missive with reluctance and stood there watching impatiently.
And then he saw the discreet identifying mark carefully drawn on a corner of the paper, and his anticipation increased.
“This is from our agent at Castle Wintering.”
“Our agent?” she repeated. “Surely you can tell me the identity now.”
“I cannot take that risk, my lady wife. If even one soul finds out—and you would brag to your sister before the day is out—all of my carefully laid plans could fall into ruin. Surely you understand that.” He gave her the smile that always pacified her, even as he wondered how much longer he could bear to have her in London. He would have to send her to their Lincolnshire country house soon.
He broke the wax on the stained letter and then held it to his chest when Letitia leaned over the desk to read it.
“My lord—”
“Be patient,” he said in a low voice tinged with the menace he knew cowed her.
She stiffened, then began to pace while he read. When he was done, he folded the letter, set it before him, and stared at it for several moments until his wife was gripping her skirts with frustration.
He slowly began to smile, looking up at Letitia in triumph. “ ’Tis all coming together,” he said. “My plan has succeeded beyond what I’d hoped. Blackwell’s control of the estate is slipping away because he’s been unable to find the person responsible for the crimes. The villagers are about to revolt. My agent asks if we would come take control before the lawlessness gets out of hand.”
She shared his grin. “It has not been three months yet, and already we have almost vanquished Blackwell. We can be mining for lead ore by spring. Who will you trust to go to Wintering?”
“I shan’t trust a soul but ourselves, my lady wife. I must be there to enjoy Blackwell’s defeat. How do you feel about spending a Christmas holiday in the wilds of Yorkshire with our son?”
Chapter 20
Gwyneth had never lived with a lie before, and it weighed on her soul. A cheerful demeanor was a chore, and pretending everything was fine wasn’t going to work much longer. She knew her mother was watching her closely, and Caroline was giving her puzzled looks. Even her husband made excuses to keep his distance from her. If any of them actually questioned her, she knew the dam behind which she held back her tears would burst. Then they’d all know what kind of person she was: a liar.
She couldn’t blame Edmund for his distraction. He was worried about the person jeopardizing their winter stores. There was violence inside him now as he plotted with Geoffrey for ways to catch the villain. It seemed to shimmer beneath his skin—a burning anger that she feared would turn on her if she told him the truth. She was such a coward.
Yet for all her self-preoccupation, she was the one who noticed Prudence Atwater sneaking into the castle just after most of the men had left to spend the day slaughtering pigs for winter meat. Gwyneth was so grateful to be distracted from her morbid thoughts that she followed the widow without alerting anyone to what she was doing. Prudence hurried down a corridor into a wing of the castle that wasn’t repaired yet. Both of them had to stumble over rubble littering the floor. Prudence at least held a torch, while Gwyneth didn’t dare take one for fear of being seen.
When she lost sight of Prudence, Gwyneth peered around a corner in time to see a door being opened from the inside. She held her breath as Martin Fitzjames, the old steward, leaned out, grinned at the widow, and then pulled her inside.
Gwyneth leaned back against the wall in amazement. Were Prudence and Martin conspiring together? Fearing that they’d leave before she could return, she ran back the way she’d come as fast as she could, tripping over objects that had previously been illuminated by Prudence’s torch.
When she finally found Mrs. Haskell, the woman’s eyes widened when Gwyneth leaned out of breath against the kitchen wall.
“My lady!” she cried, grabbing her arm.
Gwyneth shook her head. “Forgive me—I am well. I forgot to tell Sir Edmund something, and I was trying to catch him. Do you know where he went?”
“The last I saw him, my lady, he and Sir Geoffrey were heading for the stables. Allow me to send one of the servants with a message.”
“Nay, I shall do it myself. Thank you!”
As she approached the stables, Will Atwater was leaving. His eyes were big with worry, and suddenly she tried to imagine what his life would be like if his mother was proven guilty.
“Milady, ye don’t want to go in there. His lordship is talkin’ real serious to Sir Geoff, and they want to be alone.”
“Thank you, Will, but they’ll see me.”
She found the two men engaged in an intense discussion. She didn’t even want to know what it was about, just simply barged between them and looked up at Edmund.
