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“I know,” she said, feeling that somehow, she had pushed her father a bit too far. The man was no fool and her curiosity about a prisoner-of-war was a tad too persistent. What noble-born lady was this fixated on the well-being of a criminal? “I’ll go apprise Martha of the Lord’s visit.”
She was nearly at the door when he spoke, and his tone was laden with a subtle warning. “Adelaine, maybe I have not told you before but you have a heart like your mother, caring and one that tries to see the best in people. But be careful, daughter, not all people are worth your good intentions. I know you are concerned about this man’s life but he lost the right to compassion when he took the life of another. Don’t waste your sympathies on him.”
Her heart was beating furiously. Did he know something? What did he know? “I was —”
“Too caring and naïve for your own good,” her father interrupted her. “I know you Adelaine…I know you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” he said, “You have human kindness and that is wonderful, just don’t give it to those who do not deserve it.”
She half-pivoted on her heel, “I won’t.”
“Good,” he said and stood. “I’ll be out today with Mr. Whittingham, assessing a new place for another flour mill. I wish it was not so but I don’t have much time before I go back to London. I’ll be out all day and probably tomorrow.”
All day…but why would he tell me that? Is it a trap?
“All the best then,” Adelaine gave him her best smile. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
Does he know that I’ve been seeing Caelan. Would he want to me admit it first…or does he not know and is trying to make me feel guilty so I will admit it?
She went to her rooms and smiled at Martha cleaning up. “Martha, would you please find a few of my best dresses and air them out? I suppose that like the rest of the house, you know about my pending courtship.”
Her maid went pink. “I don’t know any—”
Adelaine tilted her head to her, arched her eyebrows and smiled. Martha then dropped her dusting cloth. “Well, we do know but we aren’t allowed to say it.”
“Nevertheless,” Adelaine said as she went to her table and saw a letter. “Did this come in for me today?”
“Yes, My Lady, it did,” Martha said as she went to the closet and disappeared inside. From the sounds coming through, Adelaine could hear her maid opening her trunks. She popped the seal and went to sit.
Dear Lady Adelaine,
Greetings to you.
I am Artur McLagen and on behalf of the Clan McLagen, I implore you to help us in freeing our Laird. I expect that you are loyal to your father and you should be; familial ties are the dearest show of love and featly. In the same way, and with the same level of love and fealty we ask that you manage a way to allow our leader to be free. Our leader has many people depending on him for their daily bread and many lives to save.
We ask this boon under the assumption that you are sympathetic to our Laird and desire that his life is preserved. I can assure you that the tales of our Laird killing any man, much less your brother are false. Our Laird has never killed a man in his capacity as a doctor and is not guilty of this crime. If you are amiable to our request, please send a reply to the village inn. Your actions will save more than one life, it will save many.
Adelaine’s eyes darted to the closet and heard Martha still puttering around inside. She went to the fireplace and shoved the letter into it, using the poker to heap still glowing coals upon it and watch it curl to ashes. Her eyes kept darting to the closet and then back to the fireplace, watching anxiously for it to burn out. When it did, she went back to her seat and her eyes flew to the window and then to the keep.
She pressed a hand to her chest over her thumping heart. Had anyone seen that?
Please God, make it be that I was the only one to see it.
The request tugged at her heartstrings but she could not dare do what they asked. Caelan had committed the crime, it was only fitting that he should pay for what he had done.
Martha came out with a gown of lilac silk ornamented with gold thread, another one, an Italian gown with light monograms, cotton decorated with braid and beads and the last, a jacquard blue, deep-blue velvet, and gabardine inserts.
“Will these do?” Marth asked.
“Splendidly,” Adelaine said and took another look at the fireplace, glad the letter was gone. Then back at the keep.
With this letter…I’m beginning to wonder about that autopsy…
Busying herself with nothing much around the room she waited until the sounds of her father’s carriage rumbled off and she dropped the book she had pretended to read. As she left to go to her father’s office, Adelaine questioned what she was doing.
Haven’t I already accepted my father’s written proof about Peter?
