My thoughts have remained with you throughout my days and nights, wondering if you have escaped the hell inwhich he bound you. The very fiber of my soul has been torn to shreds with the lack of information I have on your well-being. The last letter I received from my mother advised that you were acknowledging the presence of my siblings, and I cannot express the hope her letter gave me for your recovery. Without further correspondence, however, I find myself sinking into a hole of despair, not for my future, or the chance that we may find our way to be one, but for your happiness.
Your absence in my days is tearing at the very fabric of my heart and soul. If only I could receive word of your happiness, my life will have been worthwhile.
My love and devotion,
Simon
Postscript: I heard your voice today. You screamed at my jailers: ‘You heedless joltheads…!’
I may have laughed through a moment that made them think me mad. It was ever so joyous. Thank you, dear Caillen, for that gift.
—A second letter written to Lady Bredlebane from Lord Astley after his leg was broken during a violent torture session by his French captors. The letter was dictated to Sébastien, who wrote the letter on the back of a stolen page of a Latin church manuscript said to be written on Sheep’s skin parchment from the 11th century. The missing pages were never recovered by the French.
“He. Was. Naked! I saw his arse!”
“Shhhh, Robbi,” Caillen whispered. “He’ll hear you.”
“Do you really think he doesn’t know I saw him naked?”
“I’m sure he hopes you didn’t.”
“Pfft. When a man has an arse like that, he should wander the streets of Mayfair without of stitch of clothing and show it off.”
Standing in the garden listening to Caillen and Robbi’s scandalous conversation, Simon’s face grew warm. Good Lord, he’d never be able to face the chit.
“And his?—”
“Don’t.” Caillen stopped laughing immediately. “Don’t go any further, young lady.”
“But his?—”
“Robina Blair! I will ensure that Ross keeps you in your room for the next year if you say what you’re thinking.”
Robbi opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when she looked at Caillen’s expression, and muttered, “You saw his best side.”
Caillen suddenly turned toward the garden door, biting her bottom lip so hard, he swore she was going to produce blood as she attempted to contain her laughter. It was then that her eyes met his and she froze. He wasn’t certain who was more surprised. Caillen, because she caught him in the act of eavesdropping, or him, because she caught him in the middle of eavesdropping. He was appallingly unskilled at the art of spying if he was going to be caught red-handed in his own garden eavesdropping on his fiancé and her sister.
Blast.
Caillen delivered a devastatingly beautiful smile that nearly knocked him to his knees. Her emerald, green eyes sparkled with the joy she was feeling at that very moment and he couldn’t help but return her smile with one of his own before silently mouthing, “I love you.”
“What are you looking at?” Robbi asked, her head peeking around Caillen’s shoulder.
He came to his senses in the nick of time and jumped behind the bushes before Robbi spotted him.
“Nothing.” Caillen closed the door.
Simon made his way back into the house through his rooms. His visit to the garden had allowed Caillen the time to get her little sister’s excitement under control. Or, at least, he hoped it was under control. One never knew with Robbi.
He stopped the footman in front of the drawing room doors and spoke in a volume that was certain to carry inside. “Have cook prepare some poached eggs, for Lady Bredlebane, Charlie. She’s feeling a bit hungry.”
“Yes, my lord.” Charlie bowed and walked away.
Simon walked into the drawing room as if the color suffusing his neck had nothing to do with greeting his future sister-in-law after she’d witnessed hisother best side. “Good evening, Robbi. What brings you back to call on us this evening?”
“I came to talk to Caillen.”
“Yet, you expected to find her in my rooms?”
