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“If my suspicions are correct, then you may not be the only recipient of letters such as this.”
“Who else?”
“I was sworn to secrecy. However, I will speak with him and see if he will allow me to see his letter.” He studied the Viscount, who was clearly upset. “Not to worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Until we do, it’s best if you do not go anywhere alone.”
The Viscount nodded. “Good idea, sir.”
“This person may be looking for his chance to get you on your own,” he went on. “If he doesn’t have the opportunity, then we’ll prevent anything…untoward from occurring.”
The Viscount nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Conolly.”
“Of course, My Lord,” he said. “I’m so sorry that this has happened to you. Would it be all right if I keep this? If I show it to others, perhaps it will give them reason to reveal that they’ve received them.”
“Absolutely.”
Charles slipped the letter into his pocket. As they walked back toward the house, his mind was moving quickly. If the Duke of Tiverwell had a similar missive, then other gentlemen may have them as well.
If Charles could prove that a group of gentlemen were being threatened, then he would bring it to the attention of the local constabulary. They would have the means to investigate further.
* * *
The physician had examined Arabella, and declared that there were no broken bones. He had left instructions for her to remain in bed—no fencing, no riding, no strenuous activity for at least a week. Then, he’d left.
Arabella lay back on her pillows. She would have to forgo her fencing practice for a few days, but she would be back on her feet by the next day. She couldn’t stand being in bed for long—she couldn’t imagine being in bed for a week, when she wasn’t sick.
It had, of course, been worth it. She recalled the way that her body had seemed to hum with desire—like her veins were on fire. She recalled the hard, flat muscles of Mr. Conolly’s abdomen.
“My Lady?”
Arabella opened her eyes. Annette was at the door to the room. She had changed out of her riding habit, donning her usual gray frock and white lace-edged pinafore.
“Yes, Annette?” she asked.
“Do you need anything?”
“Come, sit down beside me.” She gestured with her chin toward the chair her mother had pulled up beside the bed.
Crossing the room, Annette sat down, and folded her hands in her lap. “Would you like some tea, My Lady?”
“No, Annette,” she replied. “Just sit with me.”
“As you wish, My Lady,” she replied.
“What is everyone else doing?” she asked. No one knew, but Annette was Arabella’s eyes and ears about the estate. While Annette might have been paid to be there, she and Arabella had a close bond.
“Mr. Conolly and Lord Drysdale are still out,” Annette replied. “Your parents are in the withdrawing room, taking some tea with the physician.”
“Where could Mr. Conolly and Lord Drysdale have gone?” Arabella wondered aloud.
“Not sure, My Lady,” Annette said. “I did overhear Lord Drysdale make an interesting comment to Mr. Conolly about how you weren’t as hurt as you pretended to be.”
Arabella’s face grew hot. “While true, I had hoped that no one had noticed.”
Annette smiled at her. “We all noticed, My Lady,” she said. “Do you fancy him, or do you love him, My Lady?”
“What am I supposed to do, Annette?” she asked. “I have the strongest feeling that he won’t have me because I’m a Duke’s daughter.”
“My Lady,” Annette replied. “Maybe he’s thinking you won’t have him because you’re the Duke’s daughter.”
