"And yet you still have doubts," Charlotte finished, her tone gentle.
Selina nodded, a frown creasing her brow. "There is something we are missing. Some piece of this infernal puzzle that eludes me."
The carriage lurched to a stop, and Selina peered out the window, recognizing the familiar facade of her townhouse. As she alighted, a figure caught her eye—tall, dark-haired, and unmistakably familiar.
"Lord Blackwood," she breathed, her heart quickening despite herself.
James turned, his gaze meeting hers. "Lady’s," he said, bowing slightly. "I was hoping I might have a private word with Lady Hollyfield."
Selina hesitated, acutely aware of Beatrice and Charlotte's presence behind her. "I believe that would be wise," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "There is much to discuss."
“We will see ourselves to the receiving room,” Bea said, hooking her arm through Charlotte’s. “Do not fret over us.”
“Yes, take as long as you need,” Charlotte added, as the pair ascended the steps before disappearing into the house.
As Selina and James entered the house, she could not help but notice the way his presence seemed to fill the room. He was a man of contradictions—charming yet dangerous, alluring yet suspect. And far too handsome.
She felt a rush of conflicting emotions, not the least if which was an undeniable attraction to the rogue standing before her. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she cast her glance his way, and for the first time, she truly hoped he was innocent.
Six
The light pouring through the drawing room windows highlighted the planes of Selina's face as she leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Lord Burner did not write that letter, James. I am certain of it."
James's gaze met hers. "How can you be so certain, Selina?"
Her heart quickened at his use of her name. She pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the matter at hand.
"He denied writing it when I paid a call on him this afternoon. The letter genuinely puzzled him. Besides, I have seen examples of his penmanship before. The handwriting in the letter is similar, but not identical. Someone went to great lengths toimitate his style, but the deception is clear upon close inspection. Add to that the smudges."
James nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "This confirms my suspicions that we are dealing with a far more intricate plot than we first imagined. You must be carful."
Selina's mind raced, recalling the events of the past. The phaeton race, Nile's death, the mysterious letter—all of it seemed to be connected by an invisible thread she could not quite grasp.
"We have to delve deeper," she insisted, her voice low and urgent. "There are too many unanswered questions surrounding my husband's death. I must have justice for Nile. I can not rest until I do."
“I am pleased that you no longer suspect me.” James's expression darkened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I have a suspicion as to the true culprit. Though you may not like what I have to say."
Selina's breath caught in her throat. "Tell me," she demanded, steeling herself for whatever revelation he might offer.
"I have been observing Lord Hawthorne closely," James began, his words measured. "His behavior has been... disconcerting, to say the least. The way he changes topics abruptly when certain matters arise, how he averts his gaze when pressed fordetails—it all points to a man with something to hide."
Selina felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath her. Lord Hawthorne? The charming, respected pillar of society who had been so attentive after Nile's death? Could it be?
"But he was so concerned," she murmured, more to herself than to James. "He called on me frequently, offering condolences and support. He was a friend to my husband and to me."
James's eyes flashed with something akin to jealousy, but it was gone in an instant. "Perhaps that very attentiveness should have been our first clue. A guilty conscience often manifests as excessive kindness."
Selina's mind whirled with memories of Lord Hawthorne's visits, his solicitous manner, his gentle inquiries about her welfare. Had it all been a facade? A ploy to keep her from suspecting his involvement in Nile's death?
"I dismissed his actions as those of a concerned friend," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "But now... now I cannot help but question everything. But what would his motive be? Why would he murder a man he called a friend?"
“I do not know, but you yourself just called his actions odd.” He leaned closer, his proximity sending a tantalizing shiver down her spine. "Trust your instincts, my lady."
She met his gaze, acutely aware of the tension crackling between them. It mirrored the intensity of their shared purpose, the drive to uncover the truth no matter the cost.
"What do you propose we do next?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
James's eyes glittered with determination. "We continue our investigation, but with a new focus. Lord Hawthorne may hold the key to unraveling this entire mystery."
