Page 159 of Too Good to Be True

I gently set the letter aside, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and saw it was Ian.

I took the call.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

He sounded ticked, the level of it tweaking me.

“Downstairs in the Brandy Room.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because it was early.”

I heard his big breath.

Then, “Daphne, I don’t wish to cast aspersions on how much I like your lovely body beside mine in bed, but the primary goal of you staying in Hawthorn with me is so I can have you close and know you’re safe. Waking up with you vanished defeats that goal.”

Shit.

Guilt was heavy in my tone when I said, “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s morning. I didn’t think you’d worry.”

“Obviously,” he replied tersely.

“I’m fine. Your mum got Augustus and Adelaide’s letters for me.”

“You’re not allowed to read them.”

What?

“Why?” I asked.

“Because, trust me, it’s flowery, but it’s dirty as fuck, and a total turn on, and I’d like to be waiting in the wings when you’re done.”

That made me laugh, and the release of it after the tenseness of the morning was awesome.

“I haven’t read many. I think they’re later and they’d slowed down by then. I’ll leave the spicy ones for when you can do something about them.”

“Excellent,” he muttered.

“Come down and have breakfast with me. I want you to show me where Aunt Louisa’s diaries are.”

“I don’t keep them in the Brandy Room. Dad might find them. They’re stacked in the Conservatory. He never goes in there.”

“Ah. Well played, milord. You’re the true progeny of Cuthbert and Joan, wily with well-guarded secrets.”

More muttering with, “Pain in my ass. You do remember they were murdered while engaging in one of their secrets?” Then, before I could answer, “I’ll be down in a few.”

“I’ll pull the cord.”

“See you soon, darling.”

“Okay, honey.”

We rang off, and I was about to finish the note I was reading before tying them up again when the safe caught my attention.

It was still wide open.

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