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“But he is safe in the colonies now.” Catherine bit her bottom lip, her forehead creased with anxiety. Nicholas knew she was as worried about Laurence fighting as much as she was about this god-awful mess.
“Perhaps.” Thornwood eyed her thoughtfully. “But if he has joined the army, as you say, he would not be that hard to track. And, I presume, he will need to come home someday to take over Stratton Hall, will he not?”
She nodded, still worrying her lip. “It is my father’s greatest desire.”
“With Daniel gone, can he actually be prosecuted?” Nicholas could not see how a charge could be laid when one of the party was dead.
“The law is a perilous landscape, my friend. He could be charged after the fact with conspiracy to commit…an indecent act.” Thornwood glanced at Catherine, his look regretful.
Nicholas knew Thornwood was trying to carefully choose his words, and he appreciated it. He hoped Catherine’s innocence protected her from the worst of this discussion.
“Again, I do apologize, Lady Walford.” Thornwood paced anew. “If this blackguard is a peer of the realm, a charge might hold. If not, then it would be dismissed. Unless there is a witness?”
Nicholas and Catherine looked at each other. A witness to their relationship?
“No,” she whispered. “Impossible.”
Thornwood cocked his head questioningly.
“They were discreet. I would not know of it had Daniel and Laurence not shared the truth. Our fathers were equally oblivious.”
Nicholas hoped Catherine’s confidence was well placed.
Thornwood nodded, seeming satisfied. “Then, unless they have left some evidence of some sort, you might face some gossip, but little else will come of it.”
Evidence?Damn.The letters. “Excuse me,” he said, standing, fighting the urge to race down the hall to his study.
“Nicholas?”
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked as quickly as was reasonable, glancing in the rooms along the way, hoping the panic he felt did not show on his face. He was now intensely aware of the power of witnesses.
He opened the door to his study and paused. Nothing was amiss. Everything seemed as he had left it. He reached into his jacket, extracting the key. He had thought to keep it close these last few days, but had not sought out the letters. His hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the bottom drawer, his gut knowing what he’d find, despite the impossibility of it. He pulled it open hesitantly. The letters were gone. One ribbon remained. It was tied neatly around a fresh piece of parchment.
