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Chapter5
It seemed far away now, his loss of control. Green-striped silk lined the walls of the family sitting room. The walls weren’t closing in on him. The floor wasn’t swaying.
The room smelled of lamp oil and their housekeeper’s lemon biscuits.
His mother had gone to bed after the last guest departed, giving Drew the opportunity to speak to Beatrice about the letter.
His sister sat across from him, her spectacles flickering with the reflection from the fire. She was so tall and so slender, her hair a pale shade of copper.
He didn’t know how to talk to her. She was a stranger to him.
“When did you grow up?” he asked her.
“While you were gone for five long years.” She sipped her tea.
Drew winced. He was drinking whisky. It dulled the scythe edge of rage that sliced through his mind every time he thought about MissPenny going to all the effort of changing into a seductive gown for Rafe.
“Why did you stay away so long?” Beatrice asked calmly.
“Thornhill is the best place for me. I’m never at ease in London. Too many bad memories here. Too many gossips passing judgment.”
“Memories of the kidnapping.”
“Of many things.”
“Why don’t you ever talk about it? It might do you some good to share the bad memories with someone who cares about you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”And don’t care about me. I’ll only wound you again by leaving.
“I was so young when it happened,” said Beatrice. “I didn’t understand what was happening. As I grew up, you were never home, always out with your friends, just like Rafe is now. And then you left. I have so many questions, which everyone refuses to answer. Why wouldn’t Father pay your ransom? How did you free yourself?”
“I said I don’t want to speak of it,” he said shortly. There was no use talking about the past. After he’d freed himself, no one had wanted to talk about his ordeal—his mother had tried to pretend it had never happened, his father had told him that it was best forgotten, that he must be strong and silent and bear the nightmares in secret. “I don’t want to talk about me,” he continued, “I’m here to talk about you. There’s been a warning given—one I take very seriously.”
She lowered her teacup. “What kind of warning?”
Society kept sheltered young ladies in the dark about so many things. His fear for his sister’s safety forced him to ignore convention and share everything with her. It was better for her to be on alert. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I feel strongly that you should know so that you will be cautious and careful.”
“Now you are alarming me. What has happened?”
“I received this letter.” He handed the letter to Beatrice and watched her read it.
She whistled, low in her throat. “How very strange.”
“Now do you understand?” he asked. “When I read the words I dropped everything and rushed to London.” He caught her gaze. “I would never let anything happen to you, Beatrice. I would never allow you to suffer in the way that I did. I would give my life to keep you safe.”
She smiled, her lips wobbling slightly. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. What do you suppose Rafe is up to now?”
“That’s what I want to know. I couldn’t extract anything from him earlier today. He ran away at the first chance and hasn’t been seen since.”
“He’s been a regular terror lately, even worse than usual. His town house is a veritable den of iniquity. Mama doesn’t allow me to visit him there even though it’s only a few steps away. She turns a blind eye, of course. He’s her golden boy who can do no wrong.”
“Until the mystery is solved, my manservant, Corbyn, and I will take turns guarding your bedchamber door. I’ll hire additional footmen and post a guard outside the house. I’ll stay in Rafe’s town house instead of going to my club. Once word is out that I’m in London I expect to receive another letter, this one asking for money.”
“Or the extortionist may retreat now that you’re here? Maybe they wanted to conduct things from a safe distance.”
“That could be, but for now I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”
“How can I help?”
