“May I be of service,Sahib?”
“I am here to see Miss Ashton. Kindly tell her of my presence.”
“Mem-Sahibis not receiving callers.” His voice carried a hint of a threat, almost daring Ridge to repeat his actions of yesterday.
He wasn’t foolish. He knew the Indian was waiting for him to try and push by again.
“Just tell her I am here,” he bit out. “It is very important that I see her.”
“It is more important that you leave,” the Indian murmured softly. “Mem-Sahibis resting after a very stressful night. I will not disturb her.”
“What the deuce happened?” he demanded.
The Indian’s gaze narrowed. “An intruder stole into her room and attacked her. I suspect your visit yesterday had much to do with that. Take my advice,Sahib. Stay away from India Ashton. I do not take kindly to any threat against her.”
Ridge bristled at the butler’s insolence. To stand there and make veiled threats was beyond daring.
Devil take it. He bit his lip in order to staunch the tide of questions. “Was she hurt?” he finally asked, voicing the question upper most in his mind.
“She is well. She was merely frightened. Now if you don’t mind.” The butler stared pointedly at Ridge’s parked carriage, a clear hint for him to leave.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get any further today, he swallowed his curse of exasperation and turned crisply away. He stalked back to his carriage, his jaw twitching with annoyance. He was so close, and yet he had no hope of ever finding the city if Miss Ashton refused to help him. And he had no idea how to go about convincing her to do so.
He settled into his carriage, his mind whirling with the man’s revelation. Two break-ins in less than a day could not be mere coincidence. Someone must know the enormity of what he possessed. But how, when he didn’t fully know himself? Unless he could persuade Miss Ashton to translate the script, he might never know.
Someone wanted the journal, and if they realized Miss Ashton was the only person able to decipher the writing, she could be in enormous danger. But perhaps the intruder already knew that. Why else would be have threatened her?
More strenuous means were called for. He’d allow Miss Ashton a day to recover from her ordeal, and then he was offering her no alternative but to give him what he wanted. If he had to resort to drastic measures, so be it. He could be as stubborn as she. He wasn’t about to stand by and have an innocent woman harmed because of him. And because of her refusal to help.
###
From the study window, India watched the viscount’s carriage roll away in a cloud of dust. She let the drapery fall from her fingers, and she turned away. As she had expected, he was extremely persistent.
She frowned as she sat down at her father’s desk. How could she possibly wrest the journal from his hands? She had no money to offer to purchase it from the viscount, and from the look of him he had no need for more money.
“Beti, this came for you,” Udaya said as she swept into the study. “While Mary was down in the village, Mrs. Grundel at the tavern said she’d received it a few days ago.”
India glanced up to see Udaya holding out a letter to her. “Thank you, Udaya.” She took the letter, ignoring the woman’s frown.
“You need rest,Beti,” she said disapprovingly. She stood in front of the desk, her hands on her hips.
“Udaya, please,” India pleaded softly. “Not now. There is much I have to do. To think about.” Her temples throbbed, but she resisted the urge to rub them. It would only make Udaya more determined to put her to bed.
With a disgruntled harrumph, Udaya retreated from the room, leaving India alone. She looked down at the sealed missive in her hand. It was wrinkled, dusty, the ink faded.
She broke the seal and pulled out the letter, unfolding it. As her eyes lighted on the script, she froze, her heart leaping into her throat. It was her father’s handwriting!
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she gripped the letter tighter. How had she managed to receive this so long after his death? Then her gaze flitted across the opening words and her mouth fell open.
My dearest daughter,
I know this must come as a great shock, but I am not dead as you probably imagine by now. What I have to say may cause you doubt, and I pray you will not think me mad as so many others do.
The city exists. It lives still. I know because I was there with Sir Roderick. He fled Pagoria taking an invaluable relic with him. The key to the city, Gabriel’s bracelet.
In his journal, he logged explicit instructions on how to reach the city. Should this journal come to light, it will mean an end to the city as I know it.
I am held captive by a man who seeks the key to the city. He demands Sir Roderick’s journal and the Braceletof Gabriel or he will kill me. I write to you, dear India, to beg you to find the journal and the key. Bring them to San Sebastian. There you will be met by a man named Juan Miguel. Come alone or my life will be forfeit. Tell no one, trust no one. I only pray this will not be the city’s downfall.
