Page 67 of Love Denied

He met her at the threshold, holding her close. “Catherine?”

She sobbed at his embrace. He was safe.

He stroked her head as though soothing a child. “What is it, love?”

His voice brought her back to the crisis. “This!” She pulled away, thrusting the paper at him.

He paled.

“Nicholas?”

He hadn’t read the letter. He couldn’t know the horrible contents.

“Nicholas?” she repeated when he released her.

His eyes darkened indigo, then the flush of anger intensified the terse line of his lips. He turned to the equally furious-looking red-haired man who stood by the grate. “Now, Langdon. No rest until we find out who has written these.”

The man saluted and, after a quick nod toward her, left without a word. Langdon. They had not yet met.

“Come, my love, come.” Nicholas wrapped his arm around her waist and ushered her to a large chair. He kissed the top of her head when she sat, then moved to a side table, returning with two glasses of amber liquid. She took it from him, the brew splashing in her shaking hands.

His warm hand encompassed hers, raising the glass to her lips. “Drink.”

Obediently, she swallowed deeply, choking. The burning sensation was a distraction from her growing fear. Brandy. Her father loved the stuff, but she’d never partaken.

“Again.”

His hand guided it once more to her mouth, and she acquiesced, grateful for the radiating warmth and the calmness that was beginning to roll over her. He kissed her again.

“That’s a good girl.” Moving to the chair opposite her, he sat down, throwing back the contents of his own glass. She sipped the remainder of hers, moving beyond the shock of yet another threat to their happiness.

Nicholas smoothed the letter against his leg. He growled, his gaze furious. “Who brought this to you?”

“Sadie.”

He started to rise.

“Sit, Nicholas. She doesn’t know who wrote it nor who delivered it. It was on the side table in the main hall at Stratton.” She raised her hand to stay him, since he seemed unconvinced. “She questioned the staff. No one had put it there, and no one saw who did. Have your man cross-check if you must, but I believe her.” She was feeling much more in control now, certain she had overreacted. Nicholas would take care of this threat. She need not worry.

Nicholas sat back down, running a hand through his hair. He was dressed. His shirt was still open at the collar, but he was wearing his Hessians. He wasn’t coming back to her room. How had he known?“No rest until we find out who has written these.”That was what he’d said to his man.

She gasped. “You got one too.”

“You working for Bow Street now?” His attempt at humor failing, he grabbed another letter from the table beside his chair, then got up, exchanging it for her glass. He nabbed his on his way past his chair and moved to the side table, reaching for the decanter. “I warn you. The person who wrote this does not fawn over my attributes as he does yours.”

She stared at the paper. Did she want to read this? Of course she did. She was not some sheltered miss fresh from the schoolroom. Nicholas trusted in her strength, and she would not let him down. She uncrumpled it. The penmanship was the same.

Lord Walford,

I’ll not dally with platitudes. You have been party to the unspeakable. You have had time to rectify the injustice in the eyes of man and God, but you have done nothing. Your brother should stand at a crossroads with a stake through his dark soul, yet you allow a lie to hold.

Such sin cannot go unpunished. I shall endeavor to tip the scales of justice. One hundred pounds to be left at the steps of the folly by dusk. I will use the money to erase your brother’s wickedness.

As with hers, it was unsigned. She leaned back in her chair. Whoever it was, the person knew that Daniel had taken his life. The archaic burial rite cited was still often executed for those who committed suicide—the stake ensured no ghost would walk, and the crossroads were meant to confuse and diffuse the evil spirits. It was a ghoulish practice that should be outlawed.

She shivered as Nicholas took the letter and replaced it with a full glass of brandy. This time, she needed no assistance to imbibe.

“Somebody knows,” she whispered.

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