The vague recollection of her red, sticky fingers gripping Francis’ counterpane flooded her mind’s eye, and she nodded.
“Thanks to you, we found my cousin’s lair, and I’ve had the opportunity to speak with him.”
Maria’s stomach swooped. “What did you learn?”
“He’s remained frustratingly silent, I’m afraid.”
Maria hummed.
Thomas leaned against the side of the bed, his brown gaze curious. “How did you escape, d-d-d—click—dearest? From what we found, it—grunt, grunt—appeared as though he had—click—dosed you with a mixture of laudanum and laurel—grunt—water.”
Rubbing the soft material of Jasper’s counterpane between her fingers in a restless movement, she took a breath and recounted the events of that morning, from the moment she left her home until she dragged Francis through Jasper’s attic.
Jasper leaned forward to rest his elbows upon his knees, his scent of bergamot and lemon wafting closer. “That was remarkably shrewd of you.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, then asked the question that had begun to nag at her. “How did Francis garner Lady Cartwright’s trust?”
“I haven’t the faintest.” Jasper shook his head in apparent self-reproach. “I can genuinely say that I’d not considered the possibility that Francis had taken a lover in town.”
“Mayhap she simply found him handsome.”
“Whatever the reason, the baron has reached town and is furious at not only being the cuckold, but also at the publication in the paper.” Jasper huffed a breath.
She looked beyond the men at the empty doorframe. “Has everyone else gone home?”
Thomas shook his head. “Miss Huntsbury is—click—apprehending the magistrate—grunt-grunt—and everyone else is below—grunt—stairs guarding our prisoner.”
“The magistrate!” Maria’s brows rose, and shock rippled through her.
“Indeed,” Jasper began. “After receiving another quote from Francis, I went directly to Bow Street…” He swiftly detailed the letter from her acquaintance in the magistrate’s office, and the resulting actions taken.
“’Struth,” she breathed. “How long was I unconscious?”
“The doctor left only moments before you awoke. It has been but an hour, no more.”
She nodded, the muscles in her back straining at the movement. Lord, but she must find a way to explain this to her parents. And her apartments! Her heart squeezed and her breath caught on a sob. That loss was devastating.
“Thomas,” she rasped, “I’m afraid that our home?—”
He clasped her hand in his, his eyes growing glossy and the tip of his nose pinkening. “I know. That was where—click, grunt—Jasper and I found Francis’ last n-n—click—note. Oh!” He rose and strode to the other side of the room and retrieved a parcel from atop a chest of drawers. “This arrived for you while we were there.” He handed it to her. “I brought it with me and knew you would wish to see it upon awakening.”
His gaze slid sideways toward Jasper as she accepted it. Nerves buzzed through her abdomen. The first copy of her newest novel; it was a moment to be celebrated but, at the moment, she didn’t feel quite like celebrating.
Their curious and sympathetic gazes notwithstanding, she hugged the parcel to her chest and closed her eyes. It was all that she had left ofanyof her writing. Her other first copies, manuscripts, contracts, and her current works had all burned in the fire that Francis had set. This parcel was pain. It was hope. It was the end of something, and yet the possible beginning of another.
Her stories would never leave, however; they could never be burned, for they were all in her head. Every story, every idea, every edit and rewrite were all a part of her.
* * *
The colour washigh on her cheeks, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she traced the parcel with her fingertips. Suspicion whispered at the back of Jasper’s mind, but it wasn’t the time for him to inquire about the parcel meant for “Mr. M” and what it meant to Maria. Clearly it meantsomething.
Three sets of footsteps sounded belowstairs, growing nearer as the people ascended the staircase. Maria blinked rapidly, then set the parcel aside with a wince, just in time to admit a footman.
“Your Grace, Mr. and Mrs.—”
Jasper stood.
“Let usthrough, you fool! We’re her parents!” The stringent voice of Mrs. Roberts filled the room.
