Page 100 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
A smile curved her lips. “I do hope you’re right. He’s so handsome. And clever. And he has the most divine scent—sandalwood.”
“Ah, the real reason emerges. He smells like furniture. And you’ve developed a taste for fine armoires.”
“Oh, do be quiet.” She tossed a cushion at me. “If you weren’t mooning over a certain duke, you’d be far more fun.”
“I am notmooning,” I said, tossing it back. “I’m merely . . . considering recent events.”
Chrissie grinned wickedly. “Considering himshirtless, more like.”
“Chrysanthemum!” I chided, although she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Before she could deliver another scandalous quip, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
“Yes?” I called.
A footman entered and bowed. “Forgive the interruption, Lady Rosalynd. A note just arrived. Marked urgent.”
My heart stuttered. Could it be from Steele?
He stepped forward, offering the tray. The paper was thick. Expensive. Even before I touched the envelope, I recognized the crest—Vale.
My stomach tightened. “Thank you. That will be all.”
Once the footman withdrew, I tore open the seal and scanned the contents. And then, slower, I read them again.
Lady Rosalynd,
I have the girl. Marie. Heavy with her bastard and in no condition to run.
If you want to see her alive, you’ll do exactly as I say.
Leave Rosehaven House at once. Walk to the southwest corner where South Audley Street meets Grosvenor Square. A hackney will be waiting.
If anyone follows you—or if you’re not there within twenty minutes—I’ll slit her throat before your feet touch the curb.
Oh, and bring this note with you.
Yours respectfully,
—NV
The paper trembled in my hand.
“Rosie, your face has gone white. What happened?” Chrissie asked, eyes filled with concern.
“I need to go out for a little while,” I said, already rising.
“Now?” She glanced at the clock. “But we’re to begin dressing for the ball in an hour.”
“I won’t be long.”
“Where are you going?”
I hesitated only a moment. “St. Agnes. The note is from Sister Margaret. Something urgent has come up.”
She stood, alarmed now. “Shall I fetch the carriage?”
“That would take too long,” I said, too quickly. “I’ll take a hackney.”
