Once outside, he helped her into the carriage. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Gray. Don’t worry over me.”
“Goodnight then, my lady.” He kissed her lingeringly, wishing he could take her back to his bed and keep her there long after the sun came up. Drawing back, he closed the door and gestured the driver away. He watched as the carriage disappeared into the night, a hollow ache plaguing him.
Jenna sat back in the seat after he closed the door. Only as she rolled away did she realize that he hadn’t said until midnight. An odd squeezing constricted her throat and a dull ache began in her head. She closed her eyes tiredly. The events of the night, as well as nearly a week without sleep, were catching up to her.
She trudged into her house and up to her room. She waved Margaret away, not wanting any intrusion. As she sat down at her dressing table, tired eyes looked back at her in the mirror. Faint smudges marred the smooth skin underneath her eyes, and her cheeks were pale. She looked bloody awful.
With a sigh, she dropped the locket onto the table. She’d be damned if she wore the thing again. Stuart and his father could go to the devil. As she rose to undress, something caught her eye. The locket was broken. Upon further examination the back appeared to be cracked. Funny, she hadn’t noticed the front and back were two separate pieces.
She picked it up, and to her amazement, a tiny folded piece of paper slipped out and fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up and padded over to the bed. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down on the covers, pulling her feet up underneath her. She unfolded the paper and saw neat handwriting. It was signed by the viscountess.
Such sadness I cannot bear
to know someone I loved beyond
measure could betray me. What
loyalty can exist if there is none
between family members? Ahh Jenna,
it is with heavy heart I burden you
with my request. But you must make
it right, my dear, for only you know
of my pain. You are my only hope. I
can trust no one. Go to my sister’s
home in London. She lives at number
twelve Stanhope Street. Tell her I
sent you. She will have a box for you.
Tell no one, trust no one. I am counting
on you.
Sophia Dudley
Jenna sat in stunned silence. Whatever could the viscountess be talking about? The entire letter was puzzling. The aching in her head increased. She was too tired to decipher the cryptic note. Perhaps it would make more sense in the morning.
But sleep eluded her. What could the viscountess mean no loyalty among family members? And why had the viscount been so adamant about her wearing the locket? Was it a coincidence that someone had tried to steal it? Could they have known what was hidden in the locket?
But who would know, and what did the letter mean? She tossed restlessly, staring at the ceiling. She could ask the viscount, but she had never liked the man. He would likely think her forward for asking impertinent questions at any rate.
Suddenly she sat straight up. The opera. She’d nearly been robbed at the opera. Could there be a connection between the two events? Surely no one else had such miserable luck.
Her hand went to her throat, rubbing absently at the spot where the necklace had lain. Who could she trust? More than that, who could she confide in who wouldn’t think she was a hysterical ninny?
She was going to ignore it. Yes, that was it. She’d put it out of her mind. Her life was complicated enough without worrying over some box the viscountess left for her. The last thing she needed was something else for a desperate attacker to try and wrest from her.
Stuart was proof enough the entire family wasn’t exactly normal. Maybe Lady Dudley wasn’t in her right mind in the years leading up to her death. Either way, she’d be advised to put the entire matter out of her mind.
