Page 45 of The Winter Companion

After long minutes reading and rereading, she stood and went to her carpetbag. She fished out another handful of packets, and returning to the dressing table, began to go through them page by page.

It was in the final packet that she found it. A packet sent six months ago. The same scrawled apology from Simon was in the top right-hand corner, and the same quotes from Hershel’s Preliminary Discourse were in the notes. The notes she’d received from Simon on Monday were, indeed, a duplicate.

She laid the pages side by side, comparing them.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms.

They were more than a duplicate in content. They were an actual, physical copy, identical right down to the curling loops on the letters.

It was as if Simon had traced over his own writing.

Or someone else had.

Neville hoped the Christmas tree would meet with the ladies’ approval. It had taken the greater part of the morning to find and cut it. A majestic fir, with full, sappy branches, he helped the servants lift it onto a cart, and then walked along with the horses, offering them encouragement, as they hauled it back to the Abbey.

Justin went ahead of them, leaving as soon as the tree was cut. He was anxious to return to Lady Helena. It didn’t matter that she had Jenny and Laura to look after her, he never seemed to feel at ease until he was back in her company.

“Does he anticipate difficulty?” Alex walked alongside the cart, keeping a watchful eye on Teddy, who was seated atop the box next to the driver. Teddy’s wheeled chair had been placed in the back.

Tom trailed behind. “Justin always anticipates difficulties. It’s one of his most endearing qualities.”

Neville glanced back at them from his place at the horse’s head. “Lady Helena is strong.”

“He knows that,” Tom said. “But he still worries about losing her. And now that she’s nearing her confinement—”

“He must be bloody terrified.” Alex’s expression turned grim. “I know I’d be if it was Laura. I’m not sure an infant would be worth the risk to her health.”

Tom’s mouth hitched. “Your wife may have something to say on that score.”

“Does yours?” Alex retorted.

“Jenny and I have no interest in children at present. We have other plans. But one day…” Tom shrugged. “I suppose we’ll settle down eventually.”

“I know one thing,” Alex said. “Christmas is a dashed inconvenient time to be expecting a child. Justin will be too distracted to enjoy himself.”

“On the contrary,” Tom replied. “He’s enjoying himself very much—in the company of his wife.”

“What about you?” Alex looked up at Teddy. “Are you glad you came?”

Teddy gave his brother-in-law a sheepish smile. “I still think it’s too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Alex said. “Unless you’d rather have remained back at the Abbey? Or perhaps you’d have preferred to attend church with your aunt and her companion?”

“No, no,” Teddy objected, laughing. “This is much preferable.” He gripped the seat of the cart. “Though I do wonder how Clara is managing.”

Neville shot Teddy a narrow glance. He’d gotten to know him a little better since his arrival, enough that they’d advanced to using each other’s Christian names. He seemed a confident lad, often talking or laughing with his sister.

Or with Miss Hartwright.

Clara.

Had she given Teddy permission to call her that? The very idea of it made Neville’s chest constrict with jealousy.

It was a new sensation, and one he didn’t much care for.

“Miss Hartwright will be fine,” Tom said. “She strikes me as an adaptable lady.”

Neville scowled at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”