Grandfather,
I have uncovered irregularities in the shipping manifests linked to Warehouse 14. The records do not match the outgoing shipments, and several returns are either falsified or missing altogether. The problem may be a simple matter of clerical error—but I feel dutybound to investigate further.
I request your immediate attention to this matter and suggest an internal review. It may be prudent to speak with Julien before any public inquiries arise.
Sebastian
I let the ink dry as I watched the sunlight shift across the floorboards. When it was finished, I sealed it with the Sinclair crest and handed it to a trusted servant with instructions to deliver it directly to my grandfather’s residence.
He would take care of Julien. He always had. Was Julien the culprit? I fretted over the answer.
Still, a knot coiled tight in my gut—an instinct I could not shake. Not fear, exactly. But foreboding. I stared at the shelves around me, case after case of archived manifests, and wondered just how long this rot had festered. No wonder my younger brother had not wanted my return.
Then I reached for my coat and the key to the warehouse.
If the ledgers couldn’t tell me the truth, the building itself would.
Finding Hugh’s prone form, blood seeping from a wound in his head, flooded my mind. He died fighting my creditors, and I—a coward, who could never forgive himself—had fled the country while Lord Sinclair told everyone I had embarked on a grand tour.
My vices came with a terrible cost. I had never set foot in that warehouse after that night.
William Carey reminded me that I was forgiven, but part of me doubted anyone could truly love someone such as myself.
Even Kitty.
And I wanted to earn her love and respect, just as I desired my grandfather’s.
For too long I had disappointed nearly everyone around me.
Could I truly make things right?
35:Kitty
Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
2 CORINTHIANS 5:17
Later that night, after I had left the veranda and at last sought rest, footsteps padded at the edge of my bed where I lay huddled, exhausted. Every nerve on fire, I bolted and stumbled in the dark, fumbling for Sebastian’s sabre, which hung on the rack in our small bedroom.
“Kitty—stop. It’s me.”
At once, muscular arms banded around me, along with the scent of sandalwood and leather as I buried my face in my husband’s chest. “You’ve come home.”
I felt his chest rise and fall with the shuddering sigh he released. “Aye. I’ve come home.”
At his cryptic tone, I pulled back, although I could scarcely see his sharp features in the gloom. He pulled me close, hungrily pressing his mouth against mine in a way that sent delight coursing through me.
For a long moment, I simply surrendered to the embrace until at last, he pulled back.
“I fear I have the worst news,” he started, then paused as if overcome. I had not seen Sebastian easily distressed, which further set my nerves aflutter.
He described the confusing indigo plantation records, possibly leading to the storage facility where Hugh had died.
“Something isn’t right. Too many crates and not enough income to justify them.” He dragged a palm down his face. “I must go tonight and see it for myself.”
I sank down on the edge of the bed, while the moon broke free of her veils in the sky. Awash in cold light, I tried to discern Sebastian’s expression when his voice remained so utterly resigned.
He sat next to me, his leg brushing against me as he threaded our fingers together. If only I had a straightforward answer to soothe him with, but I had none. Only prayers mingled with plenty of doubts and fears.
