Page 143 of A Story of Love

“This is for you,” he said, handing her a letter and eying her curiously.

Lori understood why when she saw who the sender was: W.H. Newcastle & Sons.

She made a mortifying gulping sound as she stared at the copperplate writing on the envelope, which shook in her trembling hand.

“That’s a very respected publisher, is it not?” Jeremy asked.

Lori nodded dumbly. She was amazed that David had actually sent her manuscript to W.H. Newcastle—for that is the only reason she’d have a letter from them because Lori had been far to cowardly to approach such a prestigious publishing house.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

She shook her head.

Jeremy laughed and sat down beside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so terrified, Loribell.”

She looked up at the old nickname. “I can’t open it, Jer.” She thrust the envelope at him. “Will you read it? And if it is dreadful… Well, if it is dreadful, don’t say anything. Just burn it.”

He took the letter without speaking, his eyes moving quickly over the sheet, his expression giving nothing away before he looked up and said, “May I read it to you?”

Lori was finding it impossible to speak, so she jerked out a nod.

“Dear Miss Fontenot,

I am writing in regard to the manuscript titled, Briarly. I apologize that it has taken me so long to respond. I received your book several weeks ago but was unexpectedly called out of the City before I could draft this letter to you. I’m pleased to inform you that I began reading on a Monday afternoon and did not stop until sometime early Tuesday morning—”

Lori shrieked.

Jeremy looked up. “Lori?”

“Keep reading,” she barked.

Her brother grinned. “It is my pleasure to offer you a contract for the publication of Briarly, which we would likely release in three volumes. We can offer you £150, the terms to be discussed in more detail if you deign to accept.

I understand that you’ve been employed by David Parker at The Mercury and therefore will understand if he already made arrangements for your manuscript before he closed his paper and left the country.

In any event, I look forward to hearing from you, should you be interested in our offer.

Respectfully,

W. H. Newcastle”

Jeremy finished reading and looked up. “Well? Isn’t this a matter for celebration?”

Lori shook her head, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Whyever not?” he demanded.

“No, I didn’t mean it’s not cause for celebration,” she clarified. “I was shaking my head because I can’t believe David Parker left the country—and why has there been no mention in any of the newspapers I have read of him closing The Mercury? And if David didn’t give Briarly to Newcastle, then who did give it to him?”

“I don’t know. But does it really matter at this point?” He grinned. “You’ve received an extremely respectable offer to publish your book.”

Lori could hear the words, but she couldn’t quite believe them.

Jeremy put a hand over hers. “I suppose this means you will be leaving us soon, doesn’t it? I do hope you won’t stay away so long before your next visit?”

She heard the sadness in his voice, and it penetrated the fog of shock surrounding her. Lori smiled at her brother, squeezing his hand. “No. I will never stay away so long again.”

“Why did you stay away, Lori?” He chewed his lip, the gesture so familiar it gave her a sharp pang. “Something happened to you here, didn’t it?” His mouth turned down at the corners. “Something with Lord Dorian—or Daniel Fenton?”