even more terrifying. He smiled. An awful smile, filled with bits of meat and rotting teeth. Evil.
“His lordship interrupted my search.”
“What were you looking for?”
“The same as you, madam.”
“What of Meghan McCarthy?”
“She had become burdensome to my master.” He jerked his head toward the empty corridor. “His lordship awaits.”
The conversation concluded, and Catherine was glad of it. Once she had scooted clear of her gaoler, she ran the short distance and slammed her door shut. She knew he would follow, knew he would eventually bed down outside her door. The hour she sought her bed might change from night to night, but Silas’s constant guard never faltered.
They had killed Meghan. Did that mean Cochran was the father? It must, but how? He had only arrived a few days ago. Had he been watching her for much longer? Or waiting for Jeffrey to make an appearance? Had he been the one to kill Jeffrey, too? Perhaps his letters were warning Sebastian of Cochran’s perfidy. Good Lord, could this situation get any more complicated and dangerous?
She reviewed her brief conversation with Silas. Had the seed she’d planted taken root? Had it burrowed deep into Silas’s fertile mind? Could he even now be making his way to Bellamere to steal the nonexistent list of agents? She fought to control her fear for Sebastian. Would he be ready for Cochran’s miscreant?
The thought of something happening to Sebastian scorched her soul. So many depended upon him, and England’s safety revolved around his continued leadership of a little-known group of spies. Moreover, she would miss him.
She drew in a deep breath and transformed her fear into faith. He was England’s greatest spymaster, a man sworn to protect his countrymen and one who’d promised to keep her and Sophie safe. A villainous official and a puny footpad would be no match for Sebastian’s lethal mind.
Squaring her shoulders, she clicked the fragile door lock in place, knowing it provided minimal protection. She strode to her dressing table and peered in the looking glass at her hair. The wind had not been kind.
She located the painted porcelain dish, which held her stash of pins. And that’s when she noticed the letter. Her name was not written on the front, nor did it contain an address. But the missive sat propped between a bottle of lotion and a tin of powder. She glanced around the chamber. The room was quiet, almost as if it held its breath, waiting for her to assuage her curiosity.
A heavy blanket of dread bore down on her as she reached for the scrap of paper. Unfolding the note, she read the neat but hastily written message. By the time she reached the end, the words were hidden behind a veil of tears and the pressure around her chest threatened to suffocate her.
“Sebastian.”
***
Catherine peered down at the anonymous letter again, her tears making the feminine handwriting blurry and incomprehensible. She stared at the author’s name. Cora-belle.
Cora. Lord Somerton’s ward, or rather former ward. She was here. And sometime during the festivities, she had invaded Catherine’s private quarters and used her personal stock of paper to write a devastating letter.
My dear Mrs. Ashcroft,
I risk discovery to bring you the truth about Lord Somerton’s care of my brother Ethan and myself. Not only did the earl offer shelter to two grief-stricken orphans, who were no relation to him, he gave us a home, one complete with all the comforts a child could want and all the parental devotion a child might need.
Never once in all the years I lived beneath his guardianship did I doubt his love for me. There are many ways to love another, and all do not require a confession of emotion. Love is in the heart, and I see it shining in his for you.
If you feel the same, which I believe you do, seize this moment. He will never give you a day where you doubt his affection, for his is the truest of hearts.
Warmly, and your new admirer,
Cora-belle
PS—Lord Somerton can at times be rather mulish in his protection of those he loves. Sometimes that noble quality can lead to sacrificial decisions. If you need suggestions on how best to knock some sense into him, I am at your service.
With trembling fingers, Catherine set Cora’s note down and wondered how her life had become so complicated so fast. Her love for Sebastian grew with every encounter, and not even his alleged involvement in Jeffrey’s death had stopped her from plunging in over her