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Mr. Carter beamed. “Why, certainly, My Lady.”
Elizabeth began to pour their tea while Mrs. Carter sat in the chair opposite her. Her amiability calmed Elizabeth’s anxiousness about the servants’ opinion of her, and she quickly started to feel as if she could truly make this Castle her home.
* * *
Rhys paced his study. He had not wanted to leave Elizabeth by herself, but he thought that she was still displeased with him and would prefer to be left alone. He had walked away that night because what she had accused him of had been hurtful. Finding out that she was still writing and that she planned to continue made him angry because he thought she was disregarding her safety.
It was true that he was concerned about his wife’s reputation and generally obsessed with keeping his family name clean, but something had changed in him, and it had begun the instant he read about the scandal and decided to marry Elizabeth. He wanted her to be safe, to be happy, and more importantly, to be withhim.
Every time he looked at her, something tender rose in his chest, and whenever she smiled, he felt as though his day had just gotten brighter. He had dismissed these feelings as resulting purely from desire, but he was learning that they were deeper than he thought, and desire was only a small part of them.
A knock on his door stopped him. “Yes?” he called, and Webster’s voice came from the other side. Although Rhys did not wish to be disturbed, he opened the door.
“This arrived just now for you, My Lord.” Webster raised the small silver tray upon which a missive lay. One look at the seal told him it was from Paxton, and he picked it up immediately. He had asked Paxton to trace the threatening letter he had received, and perhaps there was some news about it.
Lord Guildford,
I hope this finds you well. There are people still gathering in front of Guildford Manor every day because they did not get to attend your wedding, and some do not want to believe you are out of town. I met with the Duke of Burton, and he is insisting on investing in Sanders. He wishes to meet you when you come to town and is willing to wait for however long that will take. He has a good mind for business, and I would suggest you consider it, My Lord.
The letter you asked me to look into was sent from Whitechapel, but the boy who delivered it claimed not to know anything about who had given it to him except that he was a man with a large frame, and his face was covered when the boy saw him. I shall continue my search, but the trails of both the letter and the contamination of Baron Ingram’s goods are thinning. They could be from the same perpetrator, and if that is the case, then he is adept at hiding.
I received news of a youth claiming to have seen someone at the port who could be Johnathan Myers. Upon questioning him, he gave me the description of a very small man. I found that quite alarming, and I am very glad you are not in town.
I have ears all over London, and I will send word the instant I find something. Keep well, My Lord.
Sincerely, Edward Paxton
Rhys ground his teeth, considering everything Paxton had said in the letter. Doing business with Burton was the least of his concerns, but he was greatly bothered by the description of Johnathan Myers. The youth who claimed to have seen him might have seen Elizabeth the night Rhys found her at the port. She had certainly looked like a very small man.
The mysterious man’s large frame could suggest that he was Faraday, but thus far, they had found nothing about Faraday that would lead them to continue suspecting him. Rhys was very uncertain at this moment, and he hoped they found something soon.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed, contemplating whether he should show Elizabeth the letter. He had kept the letter from Mr. T from her to keep her from worrying, but perhaps showing her this letter might make her understand how dangerous things were starting to become. However, she might see Paxton’s report on Mr. T’s letter and grow curious, even ask him about it.
Covering the rest of the letter and showing her only what he wanted her to see might rouse her suspicion, and Rhys needed her to trust him. No matter how he thought of it, showing her the letter might cause them more problems. She would have to take his word. He tossed the letter into the fireplace, watching the flames rise to consume it, then he moved to his desk to write a reply.
Several hours later, Rhys walked into the dining room and found Elizabeth already seated and drinking some sherry. Their eyes met and held. She looked wary of him while he was positively glad to see her. Talking to her about Myers would be the quickest way to make her run. He could see that now, and so he had to abandon his plan to tell her about what Paxton had learned, at least for now.
He sat next to her at the large round table, found her hand on her lap, and raised it to his lips. “Elizabeth, forgive me for the way I behaved days ago.”
Her lovely eyes enlarged. She was surprised to hear him apologize, and he supposed she was right to be. He was an impossibly arrogant cur, and that needed to change. “I…I am sorry for the way I behaved, as well,” she said then smiled. “I accept your olive branch.”
Relieved, he kissed her hand again before turning to begin eating the first course of fish soup. “Where is Brutus?” he asked as he tasted his soup.
“Asleep in my chambers,” she replied.
“Do you like your chambers?” She hesitated, and he got his answer. “What do you not like about them?”
“I like them…only that the bedchamber does not look as a bedchambers should. The walls are covered in paintings of cherubs and nymphs. I would not mind them in a drawing room, but I do not want them in my bedchamber.”
He laughed. “It was my grandmother’s decision to have those paintings.” Rhys had not thought about the painting in the Marchioness’ chambers. “You may redecorate the rooms if you wish. You can change anything you want in the Castle. It is your home now.”
Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “How old is this Castle?”
Rhys smiled at her question and earnest interest. “It is more than four hundred years old. It used to be a stone castle with battlements and tall towers, but parts of it were destroyed during an invasion. My great grandfather brought it all down and erected this new structure.” He glanced up at the grand ceiling. “I redecorated every room four years ago.”
“Was that when your grandmother had the paintings done?” One of her fine brows rose.
“Yes. I tasked her with the decoration of the rooms to keep her out of my business.”
