Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“This will bring her much joy. I will endeavor a trip after our child has come. A short one.”
“I have many other things to tell you, one piece in particular.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Do speak.”
“Barnett is dead.”
I gaped at him. “What? When?”
“Only two days ago. His wound healed, but he had a run-in with someone in an alley. The word is it was a man to whom he owed a large sum. A lender not known for his patience with unpaid debts. All suspicion, of course, since not a soul saw anything. A passerby found him and called for the authorities.”
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “They never do.”
“Higgins was in town while I was there. He told me the news, and he also mentioned Milton Manor will be going for sale to cover balances. Plus what was left of the estate you visited. The house in London was stripped of anything valuable and is in desperate need of refurnishing, if rumors are to be believed. Selling the lot will barely cover his obligations. You might get Milton Manor for a song.”
“I will have Higgins start inquiries. I have no interest in Cliffwood, other than purchasing it and allowing Maddie to burn it to the ground if she desires it.”
He chuckled. “I assumed you would not. The entailed property will revert to the crown. It was much farther north, and I understand he rarely ventured there.” He grinned. “No one to play cards with other than sheep, and they loathe being fleeced.”
I had to laugh at his levity.
“I told Higgins as much as well,” he added.
“Excellent.”
“What will you do now? Tell Maddie?”
“Yes,” I replied promptly. “I believe it will ease her mind, knowing that awful man will never be seen again. That he can never again hurt her.”
He nodded, rubbing his eyes.
“Retire for the evening, Edward. Tell me the rest tomorrow, unless there is anything pressing.”
“No. I dealt with the matters you sent me on. I have documents for you. Some new items to discuss. But nothing urgent.”
I rose to my feet and extended my hand. “Thank you for your work. As usual, you have proven to be exemplary.”
He smiled and shook my hand. “I believe I shall wander to the kitchen and see if I can persuade Cook to share some of her delicious treats.”
“Do. The roast joint tonight was exceptional. And the cherry tarts divine. Maddie ate three.”
He laughed. “I will see you in the morning, Alexander.”
“In the morning,” I agreed.
He left, and I picked up the miniature and added the small package of letters, planning on reading them to her. I decided to go upstairs locate my wife. She had been emotional since reading her mother’s journals, and I sensed these letters and likeness would do the same to her, so I wished to stay close.
I swallowed the last of my brandy and headed for the stairs.
MADELEINE
Curled up comfortably on a chair by a crackling fire, I was waiting for Alexander when he came to our bedchamber. The open book of poetry in my lap no longer held my attention as my handsome husband crossed the threshold. I took a moment to admire him as I oft did, still unable to believe that he was mine, that my father would never dare to harm us again, and that our future would be as bright as the morning sun that shone in our windows each morning.
He wore a dark coat and trousers, his cravat snowy white to match his crisp shirt, his waistcoat a lighter shade of gray. His long, dark hair was pulled away from his face, and his strong jaw was clenched, as if something troubled him.
Since he had sent my father away, I had observed a lightness in my husband, one that filled me with happiness. His somber countenance made my stomach tighten.
“What is amiss?” I asked him.
He closed the door at his back, striding toward me.
I moved to stand and greet him.
“Stay as you are, Maddie mine. There is no need to rise on my account. I’m sure you’re tired after carrying our babe about all day.”
My back and feet were tired and sore, but my joy at our impending child more than assuaged any physical infirmity I suffered. I rose despite his protest, setting aside my volume of poetry.
“Something has distressed you, and you aren’t telling me what it is.” I pressed a hand to my lower back, thinking that I would soon need to let out the seams of my dressing gown. Or perhaps have a new one fashioned for me, one with room for my ever-growing belly for my lying-in.
“Nothing is distressing me,” he assured me, “but I do come to you bearing news. Edward has returned from his sojourn to London.”
Belatedly, I noticed he carried a stack of papers bound with ribbon and something that looked like a miniature.