She clenched her fists. “It is,” she concurred as they both slowed their mounts to admire the castle. “It dates all the way back to 1385.”
“What a wonderful example of true medieval architecture.”
“It’s always been one of my favorite places.”
He glanced at her. “Indeed?”
In the face of his obvious surprise, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t look so stunned. I’m not your typical English rose, remember?”
His eyes instantly softened. “No, you certainly aren’t.”
An enchanted moment passed between them, where the past melted away and the present and future melded as one, until Lyra forced herself to look away uncomfortably. “We’re only about a mile from Weston Manor.”
She felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids, but she blinked the moisture away. She would not break down now. Not in front of him.
Resuming their earlier pace, Lyra reined in before the large, if slightly dilapidated, grey brick house that she had never thought of as home. While she would have preferred country life to London’s busy pace, Richard and Elise had taken over residence long before her marriage to Roger, so unless she wished to share living quarters, she’d had no choice but to remain in the city.
Now, as she looked at the exterior of the manor, it seemed completely foreign to her. She’d only been here on the day of her wedding, so there were no emotional ties or sentimentality that threatened to burst forth.
The front door opened as they dismounted and some unrecognizable butler glanced down his nose at her. Then again, she hadn’t been here for three years, and only briefly, so she wouldn’t have had time to establish a relationship with any of the servants.
“I’m Lady Weston and I have business to attend to here,” she was quick to say. “If someone could see after my horse and that of my companion—”
That was all she managed before the man sniffed haughtily. “Youare not Lady Weston.”
“As a matter of fact I am.” She stood before the servant with an air of authority that would have made her mother proud. “I am Lyra Coventry, the widowed Lady Weston.”
At her announcement, his stoic expression changed only minimally. “I was under the impression that she was imprisoned for murder.”
Lyra’s mouth dropped open, about to deliver a proper set down to this man, when Alister smoothly interceded.
Lowering his voice, he said, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but Richard, Lord Weston, asked me to bring his sister-in-law here for safekeeping. After her recent release from the Tower, she has been somewhat…troublesome to‘The Cause.’”
The man lifted a curious brow this time, but he was still hesitant to let them enter. “I haven’t been apprised of any such request.”
Lyra was wondering how they might proceed from there when Alister produced a letter from his jacket pocket. “Forgive me, I should have begun with this, of course.”
As the servant began to read, Alister offered Lyra a wink of encouragement. She wouldn’t have believed what happened next if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. “My apologies, Your Grace.” The butler instantly stood to the side to allow them entrance, his manner drastically improved. “Shall I bring you a brandy?”
“That sounds ideal,” Alister replied. “But might you take it to the study? I was told to return with certain…information on my way back to London.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” He looked at Lyra. “Shall I escort—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Alister said firmly. “She will be fine with me for the moment.”
The servant instantly bowed and led them to the study, where he left to retrieve the brandy.
The moment the door closed, Lyra wasted no time on her inquisition. “How did you manage to get a letter from Richard?”
“I forged it.” At her puzzled expression, Alister explained. “I omitted earlier that I had traveled to Chatham on a hunch to investigate Lord Winthorp. Before I left London, I found out that he has been seen in the company of some rather questionable gentlemen in the past couple weeks. I delayed joining the hunt yesterday afternoon in order to search his room. That’s when I found some rather interesting correspondence. While it wasn’t signed, I had a feeling it was written in Richard’s hand because it mentioned‘The Cause.’I merely copied the handwriting in the off chance it might come in handy. It turns out I was right.”
Lyra felt her chest constrict. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”
“It’s better if you don’t know everything, Lyra. It’s safer for you.”
She wanted to refute that statement, but the butler returned with a tray bearing a crystal decanter of amber liquid and a matching tumbler before she could.
“Can I get you anything else, Your Grace?”
