He placed the book on a small table, then crossed to the sideboard where a decanter of brandy awaited. He poured himself a measure and took a fortifying sip. The warm burn eased his frayed nerves somewhat.
With care, he began to remove his coat and neckcloth, laying them over a nearby chair. By the time he unbuttoned his waistcoat, he felt both literally and mentally lighter. With any luck, he could hide in here for a while before his mother came looking for him again.
Briefly, the thought of Charlotte arose in his mind. He would welcome her calm presence now. If only he was truly free to consider his options… perhaps he could approach William for his sister’s hand?
If it were only a matter of preference, he might be open to exploring a bond with her. Certainly she was the only woman who had sparked his interest. But no, he could not risk her or any woman discovering the truth.
He set his half-empty glass aside and wandered to the bed, intending to read for a time, or perhaps even doze. As he pulled back the coverlet, he noticed a folded piece of paper lying on his pillow. He froze. Had a servant left him a note from his mother? Or from William?
Frowning, he picked it up. No seal. Good god, was it some kind of love note?
Carefully, he unfolded it, then scanned the few lines that had been written in an unsteady hand. The message was brief, but each word cut like ice.
I know what you are hiding. I’ll let you know what is required to ensure my mouth remains stay.
They knew his secret. Someone hereknew.
And they intended to blackmail him.
A chill ran through him. He turned the paper in his hand, studying the penmanship. It seemed feminine, but not obviously so; it could be anyone’s handwriting who had a shaky grasp, or perhaps it had been deliberately disguised.
His stomach clenched.Who could it be?
He thought of the unmarried miss from the corridor, of Helena’s parents, or of the many cunning mothers who might rummage for leverage. Possibly someone else entirely.
His breath quickened. So many people had come to the manor, each with their own aims. Was it a guest who had put this here, or even a servant? Certainly they had more knowledge of the rooms. He tried to compare the shape of the letters to anything he had seen before, but no obvious match came to mind.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, his heart racing. Could it be real, or was it a malicious trick? If genuine, then the family’s entire effort to preserve his position was in jeopardy.
What do they want?
He raked a hand through his hair, all his earlier exasperations dwarfed by this new threat. Part of him wanted to rush out and corner every soul in the house, demanding to know who had placed the note. But that would only draw suspicion to the very secret he was supposed to keep. Perhaps if he did not respond, they would approach him soon enough. Then he could discover the truth.
And find a way to silence them.
He pressed a hand to his temple, a ripple of dread coursing through him. He had managed to keep everything buried for so long. Now, it seemed he was mere steps away from potential disaster. If word spread among the guests, he would be finished, and so would the Arundel name.
His eyes drifted to the pile of pillows. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in them and shut out the world. But the note was a silent threat that demanded attention. He took it up again and folded it neatly. He must keep it somewhere safe until he could decipher how to handle this blackmail attempt.
He rose and slipped the note into a small locked drawer of his writing desk. Then he returned to the bed and stared at the unhelpful book he had planned to read.
So much for peace,he thought hollowly.One day into this party, and everything is unraveling.
Never had his family’s careful secrecy been so imperiled. And never had he felt so vulnerable, so alone in a house full of people.
Who knew his secrets, and what did they want with him?
CHAPTER 15
Charlotte steppedinto the breakfast room and immediately caught Miranda’s eye, then tilted her head meaningfully. Without exchanging a word, it was understood between them that they would take the far end of the long table, away from the prying chatter of other guests.
Charlotte moved briskly to a side table and helped herself to a cup of tea and a breakfast of honey cakes, brioche with plum jam, and some kind of cake containing caraway seeds and ginger. It smelled divine, and her stomach rumbled as she carried her tray to the secluded end of the table.
Miranda sat down beside her, bearing her own breakfast—only a black tea and single slice of brioche—and gave Charlotte a small conspiratorial smile. “I thought the duke seemed very interested in you yesterday in the library.” She kept her voice low so that only Charlotte could hear.
“Do you think?” Charlotte’s heart gave a little flutter.
Before Miranda could reply, Genevieve and Felicity joined them, with Adeline not far behind. In the same hushed tone, Miranda told them about bumping into the duke in the library.
