She left the room.
Ross stared at Sara, who was laughing into her napkin. The footman behind her was trying to appear stoic, but Ross swore the man’s lips twitched.
“This is not funny,” he said.
Sara’s eyes were watering. “F-forgive me, but it is rather humorous.”
“I see no humor in this.”
“Maybe you will find a fine pair of riding gloves that you simply must have.”
He bit back a frustrated growl.
—
Ross chose to wait outside the milliner’s while his mother and Sara dawdled inside. They may have dragged him here against his will, but he was damned if he would enter every establishment that caught their eye. James, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He stood inside the door with a pained expression. Between Ross and James, Ross deduced that Sara was safe enough.
“Hey, guv.”
Ross looked down to find Thomas squinting up at him. The boy had a black eye, but other than that, he looked like the same impish urchin he had seen the day before.
“Thomas. A pleasure to see you, lad.”
Thomas sidled around until he was leaning against the wall in the same position Ross was: arms crossed, one boot crossed over the other.
“What happened to your eye?” Ross asked.
“Me mum.”
“Your mother blackened your eye?”
Thomas shrugged as if it were nothing that his mother had hit him hard enough to bruise his eye. “Told me to quit carrying tales about entering prop’sitions with dukes.”
Ross choked but tried to cover it up with a cough. “Maybe you should not tell your mother you’ve entered into an agreement with a duke.”
“Had to ’splain the sixpence and the half crown somehow.”
“Ah.” Ross wasn’t sure what to say about that. “So she didn’t believe you?”
“Said I was tellin’ tall tales.”
Thomas set a shrewd eye upon a dandy walking by with an expensive pocket watch chain dangling out of his frock coat. The boy’s eyes nearly gleamed. He made a move toward the dandy, but Ross hooked a finger in his collar and held him back. Thomas made a disgusted sound and looked longingly at the man as he walked away.
“Serves ’im right for lettin’ it hang out. Just askin’ for it.”
“Uh-huh. Have you learned anything new since our meeting yesterday?”
“Maybe.”
Ross looked sternly at the boy. “You get no payment until I hear what you have to say.”
Thomas looked in the direction that the dandy had disappeared, then back up at Ross. “Heard tell there was a gent stayin’ at Mrs. Kettles’s. Sounds like maybe the same gent you be lookin’ for.”
“Mrs. Kettles?”
Thomas sighed in apparent disgruntlement at Ross’s lack of knowledge. “Mrs. Kettles runs the biggest nethersken in the rookery. Heard the gent was stayin’ there for a bit.”
A nethersken was an inexpensive lodging house usually frequented by the lowest of society—beggars and thieves and those evading the police. A nethersken wasn’t always the nicest or safest place to be.
“And is this gent still there?”
Thomas shrugged again. “Might be. Might not. If he’s on the tramp, he could be gone. But that weren’t our prop’sition. You said I got the blunt if I had information.”
Ross looked at Thomas long and hard. The boy looked up at him through the blackened eye. He was no older than ten years of age and had far more knowledge of the streets than Ross would ever want. Ross had no idea if Thomas was lying to him, but he tended to believe he wasn’t. The kid knew if he continued to give Ross solid information, then more money would come his way. Besides, it was Ross’s fault the kid had a black eye.
“Where do I find this Mrs. Kettles?”
“St. Giles. Everyone knows Mrs. Kettles.”
Everyone except Ross. He dug in his pocket for his coin purse and fished out a half crown, handing it to Thomas, who snatched it lightning-fast and secreted it somewhere on his person.
“Remember, Thomas. If I find you’re lying, I will not be happy.”
“I ain’t lyin’, guv.” And the boy was gone, slipping away after a gentleman strolling down the street with a lady on his arm.
Ross shook his head and opted to stay where he was. In a way, Thomas was right. If the man was dense enough not to secure his belongings from the hundreds of cutpurses and pickpockets, then it wasn’t Ross’s fault, and the “gent” would learn his lesson.
The ladies emerged from the milliner’s a few moments later, followed by James, who appeared even more beleaguered than when he’d entered. The carriage was already full of their purchases, and Ross figured it was time to put an end to this misery.
“Ladies, we have shopped all afternoon. It’s time to return home, where I have business to attend to.”
Sara shot him a look that made him wonder if she had seen him speaking to Thomas, but she thankfully remained silent, sticking to their agreement to leave his mother in the dark about the real reason Sara was in London.
“Tomorrow Sara will accompany me as I call on a few friends,” his mother stated in a tone that brooked no objections. “She has been out of society for so long that it’s time to reintroduce her to old friends.”
Ross looked at Sara to see her reaction to that announcement and was surprised by what he saw. She had gone pale; her pupils had dilated in real fear, and her hands were trembling. He took a step toward her, then thought better of it when he discovered she was valiantly trying to control her reaction.
Did she not want to be reintroduced to society? Or had something else frightened her?
He looked around, but there didn’t seem to be anything amiss. No one lurking. No one watching more closely than he should. Nevertheless, he hurried the women into the carriage and didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they were rattling down the street. By then Sara had gained control of her strange reaction and was sitting straight with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes downcast.
What the hell had happened back there?
His mother prattled on about the gowns they had ordered and the frippery they had bought. Ross tuned her out and thought a little more about this “reintroduction into society.” Did he want Sara reintroduced to society? Obviously, the letter writer knew she was in London, so would it hurt for her to get out?
He simply didn’t know.
It frustrated him to no end that they didn’t know the purpose of the letters. Were they meant to cause emotional distress? If so, then they were a success. Were they meant to frighten Sara? He suspected that they had served that purpose as well.
Were they meant as a warning? That thought brought a chill to him. To what end? Why would she receive such warnings? Was she being targeted as the next victim? Or another victim?
They reached Rossmoyne House, and as he handed his mother and Sara down from the carriage, he had to physically control the shiver that raced up his spine at the thought of Sara being another victim of the madman who had murdered Meredith.
An anger that he had not felt in nearly two years threatened to overtake him.
He would never allow that to happen.
He had failed to protect Meredith. He would not fail with Sara.
Chapter 11
I was there. The night she left this earth. I saw it all. I know. I know what happened. I think about that night. I think about that moment when she was completely mine. All mine. Not someone else’s. Certainly not your cousin or the duke’s betrothed. She was mine as she was meant to be, as God deemed her to be. Mine, mine, mine.
Sara stared at the note in horror, her hands trembling so hard the paper shook. She wanted to drop it, wanted to throw it in the fire and watch it burn, but knew that she needed to get it to Ross. Except she couldn’t make her legs work.
The letter writer had been there the night Meredith was killed. Was he her killer? Had Meredith’s murderer been writing to her this entire time?
She drew in a deep breath, concentrating on breathing in and out. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the horrible words on the paper, but that did no good. They were engraved on her mind. She desperately wished she could unsee what she had just seen.
Carefully, she folded the note just the way it was folded when she received it, then put it in the envelope in which it was delivered. Ross would want to see the envelope as well.
Now all she could think about was getting to Ross, finding Ross. He would know what to do.
She found him in his study, the place he always seemed to be, sitting at his desk, deep in thought, writing something. He looked up when she walked in.
“What’s wrong?” he stood, searching her face. “What happened, Sara?”
In the back of her mind, it registered that he had used her given name, just as she had given him leave to do, though it sounded strange coming from him.
Her throat had closed up, and she found she couldn’t speak, so she held the envelope out to him.
For a moment he simply stared at it. The color leached from his face, and he leaned a hand on his desk as if he needed support.
“Where did you find it?” he asked softly.
“In my room. It was sitting on the escritoire.”
He rounded the desk and took the letter from her, looking at her as he did so. “Sit down before you fall down,” he said gently.
She happily obliged, sinking into the closest chair as she watched him carefully pull the letter out of the envelope and open it. His eyes moved across the page. His mouth turned down in a fierce frown and his gaze flew to hers.
“Damnation,” he whispered.
“He killed her,” she said, her voice wavering.
—
“We don’t know that he killed her,” Montgomery said after inspecting the letter for a very long time.
Ross was perched against the front of his desk, his arms crossed. He was holding tight to the fury churning through him. The look on Sara’s face when she’d entered his study had rendered him helpless. He never wanted to see that look again.
He’d called Hector up and questioned him thoroughly. Hector knew to bring Ross any correspondence addressed to Sara. Unfortunately, Hector had not answered the door when the letter was delivered. A footman, new to the house, was the one who’d delivered it. And not knowing Ross’s orders, he had delivered the letter to Jenny, who had left it in Sara’s room. The poor footman had been trembling when he’d learned of his mistake.
“Ross.”
Ross looked up, pulling himself from his musings, and stared at Sara’s pale face. She was seated in the chair she had taken when she’d first entered. She’d hardly said another word.
Ross ordered hot tea to be brought and plied her with it, but she took barely a sip, even though she was shivering uncontrollably.
“It has escalated,” she said.
Montgomery looked uneasy and shot Ross a helpless look.
“It has,” Montgomery finally admitted.
“Why do you think he’s getting bolder?” she asked.
“It could be because he’s more comfortable telling you things. It could be because he’s not receiving the desired reaction,” Montgomery said.
“And what reaction do you think he wants?”
Ross was pleased to see a spark of anger in her eyes and to hear a bite to her words. They were better than the listlessness that had gripped her.
“I’m unsure,” Montgomery said. “Only he knows that.”
“So what do we do now?” she asked. “Do I just sit here and wait for another letter? Do you believe that he will get careless and let slip his identity if we just let him keep writing to me?”
“Have there been other murders similar to Meredith’s?” Ross asked Montgomery.
“No. I’ve been keeping an eye out and have asked my fellow investigators to let me know if anything similar has happened. There has been nothing. And to answer your question, my lady, my next move is to question the footman, to get a description of the person who delivered the letter, and then to question anyone who might have seen him approach the house.” Montgomery moved toward the door. “I will get on that right away before memories fade. Ross, I will be in touch soon.”
Ross concentrated on Sara after Montgomery left. She was still shivering. She was pale, her lips colorless.
“You haven’t touched your tea,” he said.
She continued to look at a spot on the carpet.
“We’ll find this man, Sara. You have my word.”
She jerked her head up and glared at him. “Forgive me if that does not comfort me.”
The jab hurt, as he was sure it was meant to. “I am well aware that I failed to protect Meredith. I will not repeat that mistake.”
She buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Ross despised weeping women, only because he had no idea what to do with them. He desperately wanted to call his mother in, but the duchess knew nothing of any of this.
Lost, he went on instinct. Even though it probably wasn’t the most prudent or respectable thing to do, he knelt and pulled her hands from her face. Her cheeks were wet, her eyes red, and still she looked so beautiful. How was it that he’d overlooked her quiet beauty when he first met her years ago?
“I will protect you, Sara. I swear on my life.”
“We don’t even know if this person is after me.”
“Very true. He could just want attention.”
She sighed and her fingers, folded in his, trembled. He squeezed them, hoping to stop the trembling. He had a sudden urge to gather her in his arms and hold her tight. He well remembered the feel of her pressed against him when they’d kissed the other night. He would never forget that innocent kiss. It had been a long while since he’d experienced such innocence. He wanted more of that but knew it was impossible. She was here for his protection and his help in finding who was sending these letters. There could be nothing more.
Tears leaked from her eyes, but at least she wasn’t openly crying. He could handle this type of tears. He smiled at her. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She tried to pull her hands from his, but he was oddly reluctant to let her go. Neither of them wore gloves, and the warmth and softness of her skin intrigued him.
She drew in a shaky breath. “I must keep reminding myself that he’s not necessarily after me. Maybe he just needs someone to talk to.”
The thought of Sara conversing with this monster did not sit well with Ross. “He chose the wrong person to converse with, then,” he said tightly.
Her smile trembled. “I’ve turned your life upside down.”
Reluctantly, he released her hand, stood, and settled into a chair opposite her. He was bemused to discover that he hated the distance between them. “You were right to come to me with this. I spoke to Thomas this afternoon,” he said, changing the subject.
She smiled a watery smile. “I saw that. What did the imp have to say?”
“The gentleman who delivered the letter to the hotel has been seen in the rookery. At a nethersken.”
“A boardinghouse?” She frowned. “Why didn’t you tell Montgomery this?”
“Because he’s investigating the letter you received today. I thought we could investigate the rookery.”
“We?” Her eyes widened in surprise.
He was a fool for doing so and had probably spoken without thought. But the smile she bestowed on him was almost worth the tremor of regret that pulsed through him. “Yes. We.”
“When shall we go?”
“I was thinking early tomorrow morning.”
She nodded eagerly. “I’l
l be ready.”
Chapter 12
The next morning they met in the entryway just as the sun rose over London. Sara had to bite back her smile when Ross descended the steps. They’d been thinking along the same lines in their choice of attire. He was wearing worn trousers and a coat that had seen better days. It even had patches on it.
Sara raised a brow. “Has your valet seen your attire?”
Ross raised his arms out to the sides and smiled. The smile nearly stilled her heart, it was so warm and beautiful. So different from the dour expression she was used to seeing.
“My valet created this attire.”
Sara put a hand to her heart. “Say it isn’t so. No respectable valet would ever outfit his lord in something so…”
“Simple?”
“I was thinking unpretentious.”
“That, too.”
They smiled at each other until Ross’s smile slowly faded and he looked away to clear his throat. “I see you were thinking along the same lines.”
Mimicking his movements, she held her arms out to the sides. “It’s the oldest, most worn gown I have with me. If I were home, I could have found a better one.”
“It’s brown.”
Sara couldn’t hold back another smile. “It is at that.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Sara had never heard silence speak so loudly. It was as if all the words she wanted to say hung in the air between them. What were these strange feelings she had for the Duke of Rossmoyne? She’d never thought much about him other than his betrothal to Meredith. And after that, she had hardly thought of him at all, except for those times the gossip columnists mentioned him. If she’d had an opinion of him, it was that he was charming and the life of a party she was not invited to.
Now was an entirely different set of circumstances. The party was long over, and the duke had changed in so many ways. Apparently, so had she.
“Shall we leave?” he asked.
Thankful to be shaken from such strange thoughts, Sara nodded. She was surprised to find no carriage waiting for them.
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