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Hibbert jumped up from his chair the instant she emerged. “My lady?”
“I'm fine, Hibbert,” she assured him, touched by the concern she heard in his voice. “Losing my mind, but fine.” She rubbed the folds of her gown between her fingers. “You haven't received word from Royce, nave you?”
The barest hint of a smile touched Hibbert's carefully schooled features. “No. Nor do I expect to. Hell finish his business and ride back here as quickly as possible. If not tonight, then tomorrow.”
“I suppose.” Breanna nodded. “He's probably reuniting Lord Ryder and his daughter as we speak.”
“That could very well be.” Hibbert gestured down the hall “Your cousin and her husband went down for tea a few minutes ago. Lady Sheldrake said you should feel free to join them.”
“Thank you. I will.” Breanna paused. “And so will you.”
“Pardon me?”
“Oh, come now, Hibbert.” This time it was Breanna who smiled. “Certainly a man irreverent enough to join his employer for a drink in the middle of a ballroom isn't shocked by the notion of joining my family for tea.”
“Good point, my lady.” One brow rose fractionally. “I am rather thirsty.”
“Besides, Wells will be there. The two of you can resume glazing at each other like two male cats fighting for their territory. That should please you.”
Hibbert actually chuckled. “A rousing activity, I agree. Very well, you've convinced me. Tea it is.”
They were halfway down the stairs when the knock resounded at the front door.
At his post, Wells stiffened. He threw a quick glance at the sitting room, then turned to fix his stare on Breanna, noting that Hibbert was one step behind her.
“I'm armed, Wells,” Hibbert said quietly, reaching for his pocket. “Go ahead and open it.”
With a terse nod, Wells yanked open the door.
Mahoney stood there, a parcel in his hands.
“This was just delivered to the front gate,” he said without preliminaries. “It's for Lady Breanna. The messenger had no idea who sent it. It was left on his employer's doorstep, along with a ten pound note.”
“Like the last time.” Breanna felt everything inside her go cold. Outwardly, she remained calm, continuing to descend the steps. She put one foot in front of the other, watching Wells and Mahoney stare up at her, seeing Stacie and Damen walk out of the sitting room and into the hall, where they, too, turned anxious gazes to her.
The scene unfolded as if it were a dream.
More aptly, a nightmare.
“You don't have to open it, Miss Breanna,” Wells interceded, planting himself between her and Mahoney as if to stave off the inevitable.
“That's true,” Mahoney concurred. “I can just toss it out.”
“No,” Hibbert refuted. “You can't. We have to know what's in there.” He made his way to the doorway, leaned around Wells, and took the box from Mahoney. “Thank you. We'll deal with this from here.”
Mahoney shot Wells a quizzical look, waiting for official instructions.
This time there was no argument. Wells nodded. “Hibbert's right. We'll deal with the matter. You can go, Mahoney. Thank you for bringing the package to us.”
He shut the door behind Mahoney's retreating figure, his face ashen as he stared at the box in Hibbert's hands.
“I'll open it, Hibbert.” Breanna took the package, which was about the length and width of a portfolio, though twice the thickness, and fairly light of weight.
“Are you sure, my lady?”
“Yes. I'm sure. It's addressed to me.” A slight tremor rippled through Breanna's fingers as she tugged off the paper and string, pulled off the lid.
Inside was a smaller box, cushioned by what appeared to be just a rumpled sheet of paper.
