What would cause the Earl of Somerton to lose sleep? A family crisis? He had no close living relatives, only his two wards. Former wards, for they were both adults now. She found it hard to reconcile that the detached man before her was the same individual who had taken in two young children after their parents were brutally slain by thieves. All in the name of friendship.
“If I’ve come at an inconvenient time, my lord,” she said in a gentler tone, “I apologize. Would you prefer that I return tomorrow?”
“That won’t be necessary.” He indicated her chair again. “Please.”
Catherine resumed her seat, and the earl followed suit.
“I am persuaded to read your husband’s letters, madam.”
“Thank you—”
“But I must know what about their contents compelled you to travel all the way to London to seek me out.”
He was nothing if not persistent. Pulling in a fortifying breath, Catherine said, “Not long after my daughter was born, Jeffrey became involved in several reformation issues that required him to spend a good deal of time away from us.” She plucked at the soft fabric of her reticule. “At first, I applauded his passionate belief that he could make a real difference and even encouraged him to build political relationships that would aid his many causes.”
The earl nodded. “Ashcroft was well respected among his peers. He had distinguished himself as a man of honor and principle.”
“Yes, well,” she said, “during the first year, he wrote to us at the end of every week and came home as often as his schedule would allow. By the second year, his correspondence dwindled to once a month and his visits to three or four times a year. After the third year, he no longer bothered to make an appearance, not even for my daughter’s birthday or for Christmas, preferring to send gifts instead.”
“And his correspondence?”
“Nothing more than beautifully written instructions on estate management.”
“I see,” he said in a low voice. “Go on.”
Catherine forced herself to maintain the earl’s gaze. “Until my husband’s funeral, my daughter had not seen her father in three years and I hadn’t received a personal note from him for the same length of time.” She glanced away then, swallowing back the bitterness that rose to the top of her throat. “My husband’s silence came to an abrupt end a month before his death.”
He glanced at the packet. “Are you saying Ashcroft sent these, and the ones you have at home, all within the last month of his life?”
“Yes, my lord.” Her throat closed around the damning words.
“You are only now reading them?”
“When they first arrived,” she said, finding it difficult to speak, “I was burying my father, and my staff chose not to forward them. By the time I had a moment to read the letters, I received word that my husband had been stabbed to death by footpads.”
“I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Ashcroft. On both accounts.”
“Thank you.” Her heart ached, not for her husband or even her father, for both had forsaken their families for their careers, but for her daughter, who would live the rest of her days without a father. “I regret the lengthy delay. However, once you read Jeffrey’s odd ramblings, you will see I was right to bring them to your attention.” She pressed on, knowing he would indeed think her a featherbrain after her next words. “My husband was in some kind of trouble before he died, sir. I can feel it in the depths of my soul. I no longer believe a random criminal killed Jeffrey. This situation has the stamp of something far more deliberate.”
Her declaration did nothing to disrupt the earl’s pensive expression. What was he thinking? Was he devising ways to get her out of his study? Was he measuring her words and wondering if he could trust her judgment? Or did he worry he was dealing with the illogical thought patterns of a woman scorned? Her knee began to bounce beneath her skirts.
“A rather sensational view of the matter, Mrs. Ashcroft.”
Catherine clenched her teeth against a sharp retort. She had prepared herself for his mockery, but that did not stop the sting of his words. “Read the letters and see if you still think so.”
He studied her for an interminable amount of time before he finally asked, “How long will you be in London?”
“Not long,” she said. “I must get back to my daughter.”
Nodding, he rose to his full height, and Catherine experienced