“I shall escort you out to the carriage.”
“Also not necessary. I can open a front door, Leonard. Have a nice evening.”
She saw the worry in his eyes but said nothing further. Instead, she hurried from the room. At least if something should happen to her this night, those papers would make their way to Nathan.
Was she being dramatic? Surely she would wake in her bed tomorrow morning. Beth pressed a hand to her stomach, she could not deny her unease as she closed the front door behind her. Hurrying out of sight of her family’s townhouse, she headed to the end of the street and onto a busier one.
She did not wait long for a hackney. Climbing in, she gave the hotel’s address. By the time she’d arrived at her location, she felt ill. Nerves grappled with fear, and her fingers shook as she paid the driver.
Walking up the stairs and into the hotel, Beth ignored the look from the man at reception and made for the stairs that would take her up to the rooms.
Soon she stood outside the door staring at the brass number 17, exhaling slowly to steady herself. Something made her look at the sofa she’d just passed. Hurrying back to it, she lifted her skirts and removed Mr. Valentine’s book. She then reached under the sofa and tore a small corner of the lining, then slid the book inside. She hurried back to the door and knocked.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Enter!”
Turning the handle, she stepped inside and faced the man who had tormented her family for three years.
He was not overly tall, but thickset. His gray hair swept back from his forehead, piercing blue eyes steady on her face. But it was the small scar that slashed up from his lip that made her shudder. It made him look perpetually menacing.
“Miss Carlow, how delightful to see you, and alone.” He gave her a mocking bow.
“I could hardly bring someone with me.”
“Do not use anything but respectful tones when speaking with me or you will be sorry.”
The last time they’d met, at the theater, he’d intimidated her, but not this time. She had to make a stand.
“Apologize at once, Bethany.”
“I will not,” she said, battling down the fear.
His eyes narrowed.
“Be careful how you speak to me. Your friend Mary Blake likes to walk in the mornings with just her maid for company, I would hate to have to kidnap her as I did your mother.”
“Leave her alone,” Beth growled. “She is nothing to do with this.”
“She is everything to do with this.” His smile made her shiver. “It is your misfortune that I found those papers declaring your father’s treachery, my dear, because I now control your family, and I will do what it takes to maintain that.”
“No!”
“Yes.” He closed the gap between them, and one hand cupped her cheek. Beth turned away.
“First your father was doing what needed to be done to make those I work for happy, and then he had that unfortunate illness—”
“Brought on by you!” Beth snapped.
“And then you stepped in,” he said as if she had not spoken. “I find you a far more suitable thief, Bethany. Men are blinded by your beauty and seem unaware of what you are capable of. You are indeed an excellent asset.”
“You cannot keep doing this to us.”
“Of course I can, unless you wish for me to hand those papers over to the authorities. Your father will be tried for treason, you and your mother will be shunned, and the good name of the Carlow family will be sullied forever. How will your poor dear mother cope?”
“I hate you.” Beth glared at him.
He trailed a hand down her arm.
