Page 81 of Secrets of the Heart

“Are you sure? He could have tried to change his hand, make it unrecognizable.” Rachel crossed the room and took the letter from Lilith’s fingers. She looked down at it, ready to point out an attempt to disguise his handwriting in block letters or a messy script.

She froze, staring at the page in front of her, all the blood draining out of her face. “My God!” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know this hand.”

The warehouse was dark and deserted, as Michael had known it would be. It was owned by an importer for whom Michael had found a thief who was raiding his goods. The man had been happy to lend Michael the use of the place for the evening and had given him a key to the smaller side door, which led into the warehouse through the offices.

Michael unlocked the door and led Perry past the office and into the vast cavern of the warehouse. It was dark inside, the only windows high up in the walls and admitting very little of the moonlight outside. The light of Michael’s lantern, shielded on one side, lit up only a small semicircle of the room, enough to reveal vague humps of the merchandise stored there—crates, sacks and stacks of bales—an eerie sight in the dim light.

“I say, Michael, couldn’t you have found a more propitious place for a meeting?” Perry whispered behind him.

“It’s good for my purposes,” Michael replied. “Places to hide and only one obvious entrance.”

He turned first right, then left, and made his way around a mound of huge sacks, smelling redolently of coffee. He peered around the stack, and Perry could see that he had a direct view of the door through which any visitor would enter.

“Well,” Perry said, his voice still hushed and nervous, “I guess all we have to do now is wait for Blount to arrive.”

“Yes.” Michael’s voice was tinged with sadness. “I can only hope that he will not come. It is a hard thing, to find that a long-trusted friend is really a thief and a murderer. It would be far better if this whole thing turned out to be a fruitless endeavor.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will be,” Perry said, no longer whispering.

Michael turned around to look at his friend. Perry stood facing him, a pistol in his hand, pointed directly at Michael.

“We must go!” Rachel cried, turning to Anthony. “Michael is in grave danger. We have to go!”

“Go where? I don’t understand.”

“To this address. This warehouse.”

She ran out of the room, leaving Anthony gawking after her. Lilith, quicker of mind, was right on her heels.

“Wait!” Anthony started after them. “Rachel! What is going on?”

“Michael is in terrible danger,” Rachel explained, though she did not pause in her headlong rush out the front door. “We need a hansom.”

“But—”

As he spluttered, Lilith was already waving her arm frantically at a hansom cab down the street. The three of them piled in, Anthony still asking questions.

“Whose handwriting is this? Why is Michael in danger?”

“It belongs to Perry Overhill.”

“Overhill! Are you sure? It can’t be him. I know the chap. Well, I haven’t seen much of him for years, but I—he—” He looked faintly embarrassed. “He was a friend to me when…during that rough time after you became engaged to Lord Westhampton.”

Rachel looked at him sharply. “Perry? Perry is a friend of yours?”

“He was. He was in love with you, too, you know. We commiserated with each other over our broken hearts. He knew he didn’t stand a chance with you, of course. He was aware that you loved me.”

Lilith, sitting beside Rachel, stared at him, astonished. She turned to Rachel, her face full of questions.

“Yes,” Rachel said quickly, “I once fancied myself in love with Mr. Birkshaw. It was many years ago, before I married Michael.”

“It was Overhill who encouraged me to not give up on you,” Anthony went on.”

“What do you mean, not give up on me?” Rachel asked, suspicion tinging her voice. “Are you saying that Perry encouraged your coming up to Westhampton and asking me to run—”

Anthony nodded, looking a little shamefaced. “He told me that he was sure you still loved me, that you would want to escape your forced marriage…. I guess neither he nor I thought about the consequences.”

“I have a feeling Perry thought about them,” Rachel said dryly.