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“Yes?”
“Did you fear Grayfield when you first arrived?”
“I did,” she sighed. “We met with some challenges on the way here. Our wheel broke,” she chuckled, “which my brother thought was an omen, then a storm came.” She raised her eyes to his. “I suppose that made me more afraid of the castle than I ought to have been.”
Harry glanced out at the castle again. She did not need to tell him how much she loved it now because he knew. Every corner that received her attention had no choice but to obey her will for revival. He kissed her hands once more.
“I believe we have secret passages to explore before dinner.” He smirked.
“Yes,” she breathed as the carriage drew to a halt and Cato’s bark sounded from just outside. He jumped about them, happy they had returned. If one saw the event unfold, one would suppose they had been away for a long time.
Lander had a letter for him when they entered the front hall. There was no name on it, and the seal had no crest. “Where is this from?” he asked, turning the letter in his hand.
“It was delivered with the mail, Your Grace,” Lander replied. “I do not know where it is from.”
“Thank you, Lander.” He looked down at Bridget and inclined his head toward his study. They walked in and he closed the door firmly behind them before opening the letter.
He glanced at his wife before he began to read. She was worried. The letter was in a hand that he did not recognize:
Beware of the coming reckoning, Alderham. You may keep your wife close, and guard your kingdom, but know that whatever you do, you will never escape the punishment for your sins.
His grip on the sheet slackened, the shock running through him like a lightning bolt. Bridget took the letter and read it, her dismay immediately becoming clear in her eyes. Harry drew her close, uncertain of what to tell her to comfort her.
He should not ignore the threat in the message, but he did not know how to begin addressing it. The best course to take would be to show Drew the letter, but he had Bridget to reassure first. Cradling her cheeks, he looked down at her.
“Do not worry, my love. I will find who sent this.”
“I know you will.” She wrapped her arms around his middle. “I just cannot understand why anyone would do this.”
He kissed the top of her head, and when she rested her head against his chest, he worried that she would hear the frantic beating of his heart and become more anxious. Still, he held her tightly.
Chapter 32
Harry pushed open a large wooden door, the sort that one would find in a medieval castle, and Bridget leaned forward in anticipation. Stairs descended into a narrow, dark place. The door to the passages was through the kitchens, past the pantry and storerooms.
“William Westwood intended for these to be dungeons,” Harry said, holding up a lantern to illuminate their path. “They were quickly abandoned because he never had any prisoners.” He took two steps down before holding his hand out to her.
The letter they had received the day before had prevented them from exploring the passages, but they could not suspend everything simply out of fear. Bridget gathered her pale green skirts in one hand and took his hand with the other. His eye moved to her long hem and his brow rose.
“Are you sure you wish to see Sarah suffer?” When her brows furrowed, he explained, “It is dark, dank, and filthy down there.”
“Oh.” She moved her hands behind her and began to unbutton her dress.
Harry gave her a perplexed frown. “What are you doing?”
“Removing the dress,” she muttered, struggling with a button.
He hung the lantern on the wall before removing her hands and undoing the buttons. “I was going to make you change but I like this better.” He kissed her shoulder as he deftly undid the last button. He pulled the dress down her body and she stepped out of it, then he picked it up and folded it before placing it on a stool near the door.
In just her petticoat and stays, she grinned. “I think you are overdressed.”
He laughed and took her hand, leading her down the steps and picking up the lantern. The smell of age and mold arrested her nostrils as they moved down the stairs.
“What do you want to do with the place now?” she asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs and emerged into an arched chamber with several archways. She counted six.
“I played here when I was a child.” He raised the lantern and looked at the archways as if deciding the path they should take first. “I got lost several times but I memorized the maze.” He looked down at her with a roguish smile. “Choose.”
Bridget looked around and without thinking, chose the archway on their left. He took her hand and led her through it. The passage grew slightly narrower, and she asked, “Why does it become narrower?”
