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“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “But I’ll be damned if I let you go now, babe.”
I could only grin in response as I reached for my letter, still unopened, on the table. But the second I opened it, my smile disappeared, as did most of the blood from my face.
“Ces?” Xavier put down his fork. “Babe, what is it?”
Wordlessly, I handed the letter to him.
Your marriage is a sham.
Leave him while you can.
Before I make you.
It was clearly typed, just like the last one, but was printed on a slightly different color paper. No signature. Nothing else to mark its sender other than the familiar three-line threat in curt, short prose.
“Gibson,” Xavier barked. “Who delivered this letter?”
The butler’s eyes popped open, and he practically jogged across the room. “I—I couldn’t say, Your Grace. It was in with the rest of the mail this morning.”
“And we don’t have security cameras installed near the post?”
“I—no, Your Grace.” Gibson looked like he believed he was solely responsible for that oversight. “The last was knocked out during a storm over the winter, and Lord Henry never thought it worth replacing, I’m afraid.”
“See it’s reinstalled at once,” Xavier ordered, then turned back to the envelope.
“Did the PI ever come up with anything more about the last one?” I asked.
We’d been so busy planning the wedding I’d barely thought of it. But I knew Xavier had hired someone immediately after our talk with Derek.
“Nothing,” Xavier said. “Your neighbor said the person who paid him called through a blocked number. He never saw him. The investigator agreed the others were likely just byproducts of thePostcoverage.”
The hair on the back of my neck flew up.
“You don’t think…” I was starting to shiver. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
But for someone to send them here. To find out where among all of Xavier’s properties we were located, then take the time to find another local patsy to deliver the letter and make sure we would actually receive it.
This was much more than a simple prank. This was personal. And after my last conversation with Adam…there was only one person I could think of who wanted Xavier enough to try to scare me away. Someone who also knew we were here.
“You don’t think it’s from…”
“Imogene?” His face was grim. “It has crossed my mind.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to be a source of this kind of drama, but honestly, the girl had it coming if she wasn’t going to step off from her little interlude last night.
“Gibson,” Xavier asked. “Call the Orthams. Request that they join us for dinner this evening if the cook can accommodate.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.” Gibson left the room, and we continued to finish our lunch, though both of us seemed to have lost our appetites.
I’d only been in England for a few days, but suddenly I yearned for New York more than I ever had. Not because I didn’t feel a sense of ownership here—I didn’t over the house, but I certainly did over my husband. It was more the feeling of exhaustion. I just wanted to be done with the place. But I was starting to feel that, like a parasite, Kendal would never be done with us.
A few minutes later, Gibson returned.
“Your Grace, it appears the Orthams left this morning for Parkvale House. With Ms. Imogene.”
Xavier’s head snapped up. “Parkvale?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
