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“You look worn out, my friend. Shall I have them send up some tea and a Scotch egg?” Barrett asked.

“If it isn’t too much of a bother. I did not get any sleep last evening. Too much on my mind,” Abram said, accepting the letter.

“’Tis a shame you aren’t married, innit?”

“What?” Abram popped his head up, unnerved at the accusation.

“I know a man who is lovesick. Been there before myself. Once it is all over, you may find your way to her. But you are correct. ‘Tis no way to set out. With unpleasantness and intrigue. She deserves a full life, with someone who can bless her and keep her. Understand?”

Abram could only stare for a moment, perplexed at how he had been so easy to read. In the end, he could only nod. “Yes, I know. Too right, my friend.”

Barrett clapped the wood of the door frame and paused before stepping through. He grabbed the knob. “Strong tea and eggs,” he said, pulling the door behind him.

“Before you go, can you ask Samuel to secure the address for Dahl’s from the hostess of the ball he mentioned?”

“Certainly. I’ll return shortly,” he agreed before leaving.

Abram stared at the door for a second before turning to the letter in his hands. Even before he read who it was from, he stared at the handwriting. He had seen it before.

Ripping through the pile, he found the list of places they had been. It was from Dahl. His handwriting.

Opening it, he found the words that stopped his heart.

If you want her back, you’ll meet me at your old apartment. Bring the letters. Do not tell anyone, or you shall have another death to contend with.

D

There was nothing else. No clue as to whom he was referring, and no time. He could only assume Orris. And if that were true, Dahl would rue the day he’d touched a hair on her head.

Chapter Thirty-One

Orris awakened to the birds singing outside her window. Oddly enough, she had never noticed the sound before.

Without waiting for the knock on her door from the maid, she sat up in bed. There was a pang of pressure from her activities the day before, but she still had no regrets. The thought of him, all of him, brought a smile to her lips.

His words in her ears burned through her… “I love you too, Orris Gray.”

Drawing herself from bed, she wondered if he were punished for his brother’s poor decisions, to lose his intended for fathering that child out of wedlock unless Abram could be blamed, what would happen? How could she go on without him?

In only a few short weeks, he had become so important to her. Meaningful.

They would have to solve the matter, she resolved. Her siblings had already agreed to help, and it would all be resolved. It had to be.

Slipping on a gray dress without ringing for her lady’s maid, she went downstairs for something to eat. She planned to meet Samuel, and they would come up with a way to convince Lord Hartinton to confess. Even if they had to deceive him.

There was no one in the morning room when she arrived. In all sincerity, Orris was usually one of the last to arrive, so she had no idea when breakfast was served.

She decided to find Dorchester to inquire of him. Just as she headed down the hallway, she saw Gladys.

“Good morning,” she said, but as she drew closer, looking at her cousin’s face, she became alarmed. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I found this letter,” she said, handing over the note. “It had been slipped under my door. I did not find it until moments ago. She would not have left this way. What can be done?”

Orris read it, then once more. “Get Samuel and Myrtle,” she said, making every effort to keep her voice down.

Gladys ran toward the stairs, leaving Orris to read the hastily scribbled note.

Dearest cousin,