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Chapter 21
The moment William walked in through the doors, Harold met him with an unusual look. Normally, the butler’s face was unmoving, his eyes trained right over William’s shoulders. He would greet William, offer to take his coat, and update him of anything he needed to know.
But this time, Harold wore a slight frown, so faint that William wondered if he’d seen right.
“Welcome back, Your Grace,” Harold greeted. He bowed deeply and straightened.
William frowned, tensing. Unbidden, the worst possible situations sprang to this mind, all of them involving just one person.
“What is it? Is it Elizabeth?”
The slight frown cleared from Harold’s brow. “Lady Elizabeth is fine. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Relief rushed through him. He let out a deep breath, then refocused his attention on Harold. If it wasn’t Elizabeth, then…
“What’s the matter then? It isn’t like you to be so cryptic.”
Harold shook his head. “There is a matter that requires your attention, Your Grace, but I shall leave it to Lady Elizabeth to explain.”
Instantly, the unease and fear came back, making William’s throat grow tight. It had been almost two days since he’d last seen Elizabeth and he’d managed to return this early only because he’d cut his visit to the estate short. Somehow, he’d managed to salvage what little faith the help had in the Brandon Dukedom, promising to pay all that was owed to them along with a slight raise. Then, he’d left Samuel behind to handle replacing those who had left.
Eagerness was what had driven him back to Elizabeth’s side. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that their happiness would be squelched, knowing that she would have to return home, but not expecting it to come this quickly.
“Very well,” he said, knowing there was no use trying to get anything out of Harold. He set a course for the drawing room, trying not to let his trepidation take control of him.
He found Elizabeth sitting in the center of the drawing room doing needlework. In fact, she was so focused on her task that she hadn’t noticed that he was standing by the doors. William said nothing, taken by surprise at how normal a sight this was. He hadn’t seen normal in a long time.
Without warning, his throat grew tight. This normalcy was what he wanted, this easy comfort, this beautiful love that could smolder with passion with ease.
No matter what this news will be, we’ll get through it together.
Confirming that to himself, he approached her, watching as her eyes filled with surprise when she spotted him. “Oh, William, I didn’t see you come in.”
He sat across from her, not wanting to get into the meat of the matter just yet, despite his resolve. “I see that you’re doing a bit of needlework,” he pointed out.
“Yes.” She raised her handicraft to show him. It seemed she’d just begun because he could not yet make out what it was meant to be. “Our trip to visit your mother has inspired me a bit, and so I thought to see if my skills have dulled since last I’ve done this. I am trying to make a flower.”
“You’ve always been very good with your hands. I’m certain you will find that you are just as good at it as you were before.”
Elizabeth smiled brightly. “I hope so.”
Her pleasant mood was throwing him. He’d been certain he would enter to see her wearing the same grim look Harold had been.
“Harold tells me that there is something that needs to be brought to my attention?” he probed gently, watching her reaction carefully.
Elizabeth nodded slowly. She said nothing for a moment, then she rested her needlework beside her and reached for a small slip of paper on a nearby side table, one William hadn’t noticed. Without a word, or a change in her expression, she handed it to him.
“This arrived last night.”
William frowned. It was not a letter, he could already tell, and so his chest began to cave at what it might be. Without asking, he opened the note and read the single line written across it.
I’m coming for you.
“What is this?” he blurted out without thinking, emotions rising within him. He looked up at Elizabeth’s oddly calm face with a deeper frown. “What does this even mean?”
“I fear it is exactly what you think it is,” Elizabeth said. Only then did her façade crack and her anxiety shone through. Her lips thinned as she continued, “I do not recognize the handwriting, nor was it signed or sealed, but I am certain the Earl of Horenwall is the one who sent this note.”
William didn’t know what he might have preferred to hear but it certainly was not that. He looked at the note again, reading the words as if it didn’t make any sense.
“How do you know?” he asked finally.
