Page 66 of The Highland Heist
She hadn’t seen Miss Cox at breakfast and had assumed she was taking care of Thomas. With a quick turn, Grace left the room and continued down the hallway to Lillias’ room. After a few unanswered knocks, she entered—and found the room just as empty as the first.
Bed made. As if not slept in.
Her pulse took an upswing.As if not slept in.
Grace rushed to the wardrobe, pulled open the door, and sucked in a breath. Empty.
No, no, no.
Lillias hadn’t done what Grace had feared.
Certainly not.
But as Grace took in the room, a single slip of paper waited on the desk by the farthest window. An envelope with Grace’s name on the front.
Grace didn’t need to open it. Her heart already knew.
But the lines penned in her sister’s hand confirmed her fears:
I left money with Mr. Broom at the funeral home yesterday to cover anything needed for Tony’s burial. I’ve given Mr. Arbor notice to end the lease we have on the house by the end of the month with significant payment and detailed directions to box up and ship all my belongings to me at Mosslea.
I loved Tony and, God help him, he loved me.
Don’t you see? It’s all my fault. His gambling, our estrangement, his death.
And with whatever I have left in me, I’m determined not to have Thomas grow up in a place where the only thing anyone will remember about their father is the shadows surrounding his death. We both need to start over, and this inheritance is my lifeline.
I will find the will if I have to tear the castle apart stone by stone.
I mean to take what’s been offered to us, a rescue Mother provided, even if I must frustrate you, Frederick, and Detective Johnson to do so.
My life in Harrington is over.
Forgive me, but I didn’t see any other way.
Lillias
PS Miss Cox is with me, and we mean to take the first ship out of port in the morning.
Anger proved an unfamiliar feeling for Grace.
She knew it, of course. Had experienced it, yes—but not often.
Right now, though?
All she wanted to do was tear this letter into a thousand pieces and scream into a pillow.
How selfish! How childish!
Did her sister have any consideration for anyone else in the world besides herself?
Could grief and desperation lead someone to complete and utter lunacy?
Grace spun away from the desk, crumpling the paper in her fist. Her eyes stung with an uninvited burn, the precursor to tears that always accompanied her fury.
No wonder sibling conflict was such a frequent plot device in fiction.King Lear, The Taming of the Shrew,the Greek gods—oh, and the very nonfiction rivalries in the Bible.
Her pace quickened as she stalked down the hallway, her fury propelling her forward.
