us to look out for you while she and Mr. Murray return to Staffordshire, and we would like to help in any way we can.”
Gabby’s husband uttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Here we go again.”
“That’s very kind o’…of you,” Fancy said. “But unnecessary as it probably was a mishap.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Tessa said matter-of-factly. “In my experience, bags of bricks don’t fall from rooftops and nearly smash people to smithereens without being nudged. What is your take on the situation, Knighton?”
“I don’t like it,” Knight said flatly. “My men located the builder working on the house where the bricks fell. While he confirmed that he was using those bricks on the façade, he said there was no reason for that bag to be up on the roof.”
“You didn’t tell me this,” Fancy said in surprise.
“I only learned of it this morning.” Knight’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “I was going to tell you after the wedding, chérie; I didn’t want to ruin the day for you.”
She was touched by his thoughtfulness and a bit intrigued by his openness with this group. Then again, he was amongst people who had come up in the same world as he had and who’d likely dealt with their fair share of murder and mayhem.
Murder. She swallowed. Is someone truly out to ’urt me? Why?
“Do you have any enemies, Fancy?” Tessa asked as if reading her mind.
“Not that I, um, know of.”
She cast an uncertain look at Knight, and he responded with a slight nod. Bea’s words rang in her head. You can trust them with anything. If Bea had faith in the Kents and Garritys, then surely Fancy could as well.
Inhaling, she told her new friends about her father’s revelations regarding her past.
“I ’ave…have no idea why anyone would want to ’urt…hurt me.” It was difficult to remember proper enunciation when discussing such disquieting matters. “I’m not important. And I’ve harmed no one, at least not knowingly.”
“If the note your father found is to be believed, then an attack would have nothing to do with your actions per se. The danger would have been put into play by your mere birth,” Mr. Kent reasoned. “In other words, you did nothing to cause this, Your Grace.”
“Excellent logic, darling,” his wife said with clear admiration. “I always said that you were the brains of our operation.”
Mr. Kent lifted his brows. “And you, I take it, are the brawn?”
“You have plenty of brawn when it counts,” Tessa said in a flirtatious tone.
Grinning, her husband chucked her under the chin. “Nice try, sprite. We both know little Bart gets his bloodthirsty streak from his mama.”
“Being bloodthirsty has its uses. Now, Knighton,” Tessa said in an imperious tone, “ever since you participated in the rescue of my grandpapa, I’ve been in your debt. It’s time to clean the slate. How may Harry and I assist in safeguarding your lady?”
“We want to help too,” Gabby said in a soft rush. “We cannot just stand by while some villain threatens Fancy, can we, Mr. Garrity?”
“I suppose not, my love.” There was a hint of irony in Mr. Garrity’s voice. “Well, Knighton? What is your plan?”
“I’ve assigned guards to Fancy. She won’t go anywhere unless she’s accompanied by them or me,” Knight said grimly. “I also need to look into her origins. To discover who she is and why someone might wish her harm.”
Icicles prickled over Fancy’s skin. The seriousness of the situation was sinking in. She reached for her champagne glass, once again overflowing with bubbles, and took a fortifying gulp.
“The note and christening gown Her Grace mentioned,” Mr. Garrity said. “Do you have those items in your possession?”
Knight inclined his head. “They don’t offer much in the way of clues, however. The note is written on plain parchment, in an indistinct hand…a woman’s, if I had to guess. I can vouch for the quality of the gown—hand-woven silk of the highest grade—but there’s nothing to signify where it was made. There is a bit of embroidery on the gown, a flower that might bear some significance, but that is the only thing to go on.”
“I would like to have a look at the items,” Tessa said.
“Me too,” Gabby chimed in. “May we call upon you tomorrow, Fancy? Maybe our fresh eyes will yield something new?”
“That would be lovely,” Fancy said tremulously. “Thank you.”
The tapping of a glass signaled that the toasts were about to begin, and for the next little while at least,