Lucas jolted and stared down at the folded page. “I don’t know.” He drew a breath before he flipped the letter over and gasped.
“That seal,” he said, touching the red wax. It had been stamped with the image of a reaper. The mark of death.
“Caldwell,” Oakford breathed. “He used that seal for correspondence about our plans.”
Lucas’s stomach turned as he opened the letter and read it out loud. “You are in my way and I grow tired of it. Come to where it began, where it ended for dear George Oakford. If you do not, his daughter may end there too.” He paused as a lock of hair fell from the page.
Oakford caught it. “Diana’s hair,” he whispered.
Lucas nodded. “Come alone,” he finished.
Stalwood shook his head. “Obviously that isn’t going to happen,” he said.
Lucas jerked his gaze over. “No, but it must look like I’m alone.”
“It must look like you’re with me,” Oakford said, his eyes growing wide. “It’s you and me he wants, not her. Perhaps if he can have us both, he’ll trade her freedom and then…”
“You think I would allow you to involve yourself in this when you have already proven yourself to be a traitor?” Stalwood cried out, catching Oakford by the collar and shaking him. “How do I know you haven’t orchestrated this whole thing as a way to get to Willowby?”
Lucas stared at Oakford, trying to read him. Trying to decipher if this were, indeed, a trap and a trick. “You hated Caldwell after what he did to Diana,” he said softly. “You wanted out.”
He nodded. “I told you I did.”
“And you tried to save me,” he said. “By bandaging my leg that day.” Oakford bent his head in silence. Lucas glanced at Stalwood. “I’m willing to take the chance.”
“Are you mad? You are one of my best agents, there is no way in hell that I would—”
“Diana is an innocent in this,” Lucas interrupted. “I will not let the woman I love be murdered while we argue. Oakford is going with me, and that is the end of it. You will follow with as many agents as you can move in secret.”
“I’ll begin gathering them. It’s a five-hour ride to that estate. We can leave within two. Excuse me,” Stalwood said, and rushed from the foyer.
Lucas watched him go, then grabbed Oakford’s arm and dragged him from the house.
“Where are we going?” Oakford asked as Lucas shoved him toward one of the horses Stalwood had called earlier.
He swung up onto his own mount and turned him toward the street. “To that estate. There’s no way I’m waiting two hours to go after Diana. When Stalwood realizes we’ve snuck off, he’ll rush his duties and can follow right behind.”
Oakford smiled as the two men urged their horses into a run and entered the street together. “I want to ask you something,” he said as they raced through the busy lanes toward the eastern edge of Town.
Lucas pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to have a long conversation with this man, this traitor. He didn’t want to think about anything but Diana and how he could save her. From Caldwell, but also from the pain that she would experience when she saw her beloved father was alive and had conspired against her and everyone he supposedly loved.
“You said you loved my daughter,” Oakford said when Lucas was silent. “Is that true?”
Lucas glanced from the corner of his eye at this man he’d once called friend. “Did I say it out loud?” he asked. “Yes, it’s true. I am in love with Diana.”
Oakford nodded, and then he sighed. “Good. Because the likelihood I’ll come out of this without my neck stretched is almost zero. I would be happy to know that she was loved and taken care of by a man I have long considered a son.”
Lucas jerked his face toward Oakford. Not so long ago, those words would have meant a great deal. Now… “If I was your son, how could you do this? To me, but also to her? How could you do it to her?”
Oakford sighed. “I was weak, Willowby. I was up to my neck in problems and terrified for her future, so I was weak. I hope you’ll be stronger. She deserves that.”
“She deserves more,” Lucas agreed, and then they rode in silence, both lost in thoughts of the woman they’d loved.
The woman they’d put in danger.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Diana sat in a fine parlor in a comfortable chair. At the sideboard, Caldwell prepared a cup of tea for her. It all would have been very civilized if her hands weren’t tied. If the other furnishings in this house weren’t covered in cloths, because the place they’d broken into was unoccupied.
