Bella thumbedthrough the corners of the packet of letters she held in her lap as the carriage rattled over the cobblestone streets on their way back to Malmsby House. She frowned.
“What are you thinking?” Gwinnie asked softly.
“I recognize the hand of the author of these letters. Do you?”
“Should I?” Gwinnie asked.
Bella nodded slowly. “It is Lord Candelstone.”
“Letters my uncle wrote to Sir Harry?”
“Yes. Letters Harry told the lawyers would make me angry and sad. Letters I had to wait two years after his death to read.”
“That is curious,” Gwinnie said. “Are you going to read them as soon as we get home?”
“Yes.”
“I suggest you use my father’s old study. It is near the nursery rooms.” She smiled. “He liked to be near us when we were small. Now his study is near his bedroom. The old study is private, and you should not be disturbed—though I reserve the right to check on you,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’ll own I am curious about those letters as well, and we know my grandmother will be curious, too.”
Her mouth twisted into contorted distaste. “Anything Uncle is involved in would be distasteful. I wish Aunt Catherine had married elsewhere; however, the two of them formed an attachment in childhood.”
“So your grandmother told me. Thank you for the suggestion. I will use the old study if that is all right. Something tells me that being in my bedroom would make it worse.”
Bella noticed Rose had stopped her knitting and was listening to them. It wouldn’t do to have her affairs bruited about the servants’ quarters. She stared back at Rose, letting the woman know with her glance and a slight shake of her head to be silent. She hoped she would.
Bella grasped the stack in both hands and sighed. She would know what this was about soon enough.
CHAPTER4
THE LETTERS
Lady Malmsby insisted she learn all that had transpired at the lawyer’s office. She was pleased to learn about Bella’s income and the house. She voiced disappointment at how far out the house was from them. She then rallied and proclaimed it would be delightful to set up a house completely, deciding she would be part of the planning and execution, much to Bella’s amusement. She also agreed the old study would be perfect and requested Mr. Harold to have tea sent up there.
Bella stopped in her bedroom to change, then made her way up the stairs, meeting the maid who’d brought up refreshments for her.
“Mr. Harold said to include one of the tarts Cook just took from the oven. They are still warm.” She giggled. “And quite tasty, too,” she confided.
Bella smiled at her. “Thank you. This looks perfect. Could you put it on that table there?” she asked, pointing to a round mahogany table in the center of the room.
“Yes, my lady. Would you care for me to pour?” the maid asked after she set down the tea tray and its delights.
“No, that is quite all right,” Bella told her.
After the maid curtsied and left the room, Bella poured herself tea, taking it and a warm tart to one of the wing chairs by the fireplace. She nibbled on the tart, knowing she was merely delaying the letters out of fear. The light from the windows negated the need for a lit lamp.
She brushed the crumbs from the tart off her lap and wiped the stickiness from her fingers before she finally picked up the small, dusty packet of letters and pulled the string loose. She stared at the packet.
There was a brief note on top of the letters addressed to her and in Harry’s hand. She slowly unfolded it.
Isabella,
Please don’t hate me. I asked you to marry me with the best of intentions. I admire you, and I couldn’t imagine what Lord Candelstone would do otherwise, for he is determined to have you married within his little club of spies. I like to think that I am the best of a possibly bad lot of choices.
Harry
Bella set the note on the table beside her and slowly unfolded the first letter in the stack.
Sir Harry,
