The strange note in Elrod’s voice told Nicholas that this particular piece of mail had caused the estate manager concern. He arched his eyebrow as the man reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a slim piece of parchment. With a worried frown, Elrod leaned forward and handed him the note.
“I apologize for opening it, my lord. But it wasn’t marked any different than the usual mail,” he said quietly. As he accepted the note, Nicholas grew uneasy at the worried look on Elrod’s face. Slowly Nicholas unfolded the letter.
Lord Guildford,
Has your wife truly returned, or is it all an elaborate hoax? How convenient and amusing that she has lost her memory. It allows one to fill another’s shoes so easily, does it not? It will be interesting to see how well she does in a London setting. I would imagine you have not brought her to town yet because you are still refining her performance. After all, an excellent deception takes time. But then you are quite adept at deception, are you not, given your brother’s rightful due.
A friend
Nicholas allowed the words to sink into his head. Although the note held no specific threat, the underlying tone of the message was quite clear. Someone believed Victoria was an imposter. His thoughts immediately shifted to Reardon. Yesterday morning he’d received word that Darby’s connection to Reardon was stronger than he and Sebastian had thought. It wasn’t just the man’s association with Vickie’s lover that bothered him.
The report he’d received yesterday had also uncovered a new link. Reardon’s youngest brother had died in the fire at Nicholas’ paper mill ten years ago. There were only two deaths reported that terrible night, one was his foreman, and the other was the boy Nicholas had tried to save. Other than a mother protecting her child, there was nothing more dangerous than a man with a lust for vengeance. As an anarchist, Reardon had no love for the government or the aristocracy, but to date they’d not found any evidence tying him to several recent instances of criminal behavior. Reardon was clever, and Nicholas knew not to underestimate the man.
He stared down at the threatening note. Whoever had written it knew his brother was still alive. Very few people knew about Edmund, which meant the writer of the letter had intimate knowledge of his family. The suggestion that Edmund might somehow have been deprived of the earldom illustrated the seriousness of the letter. The accusation could be easily disproved, but it would take its toll. Gossip could make things very difficult when it came to bringing the truth to light. He wasn’t sure how well he could shelter Edmund from any potential investigation.
“Elrod, I want you to make some very discreet inquiries. Albert Green proved to be our best resource when the countess disappeared. Call on him again for his services. Have him keep an eye on Jack Reardon.” Nicholas carefully folded the note, tapping it against his open hand with calm deliberation. “There is a possibility the man knows the countess and might be intent on harming her, or at the very least causing me a great deal of trouble. I want to know where the man goes, whom he talks to and when. I want as much detail as possible. Also see to it that Lord Darby is watched. His connection to the countess is well known.”
“Yes, my lord.” The estate manager nodded then cleared his throat. “I didn’t mention it last week, as it didn’t alarm me at the time, but with the nature of this letter…one of the tenants came across a small encampment that had been in use until just recently. There have also been reports of a couple of strangers riding through the vicinity. Perhaps we should take other precautions all the same.”
Tension tightened his muscles at the man’s recommendation. Elrod was right. They had to take every measure possible to protect Victoria. On another level, he realized the man had not even questioned the challenge to Victoria’s identity. It was a reassuring thought. If his estate manager did not question her identity then it was doubtful that many others would either.
“I think you’re right, Elrod.” They both rose to their feet, and Nicholas shook the estate manager’s hand. “I want any unknown visitors to the estate or in the general vicinity to be reported immediately. Under no circumstances is the countess to ride alone, and when she does ride, I want her escort armed.”
“I’ll see to it personally, my lord. And your trip to London, do you expect to go to town any time soon?”
“I expect we’ll go to London just before Christmas.” Nicholas frowned and turned his head toward the window. “See to it that each member of the town staff has been in my employ for at least a year, preferably longer.”
“I’ll see to it today, my lord.”
“Thank you, Elrod.” He nodded as the man turned and left the office.
As the door closed behind the estate manager, Nicholas closed his eyes. Whoever had written that note had meant it as a threat. The knowledge chilled him. Even more disturbing was the possibility that he was responsible for placing Victoria in harm’s way. He’d insisted she was his wife, and yet she’d denied it. What the fuck was happening? His entire world felt as if it were collapsing in on top of him. Anger made him clench his jaw. If someone meant to hurt Victoria, they’d have to go through him to do so.
Nicholas turned away from the window to stare blankly at his book-cluttered desk. Frowning, he suddenly found himself wondering if Vickie was dead. He immediately rejected the possibility. It meant Victoria would somehow have to be involved, and he refused to believe such a thing was possible where she was concerned. If Vickie were dead, it was her personality. Victoria had emerged like a phoenix from the ashes to take Vickie’s place. He rubbed the back of his neck. No, he was convinced Victoria was his wife and the Countess of Guildford.
Without any viable proof to the contrary, she would continue in that capacity. His first and foremost focus was to take necessary precautions to ensure her safety. Here on the estate a few minor adjustments would ensure her protection. However, London would be a different matter altogether. She would need an escort wherever she went, and he was certain she wouldn’t like that one bit.
He moved back to his desk, his free hand riffling through his papers in a restless movement. Not only did he have to convince Victoria to travel with him, it would be necessary to do so without alarming her. She’d said she no longer wanted to visit London. Had her instincts told her not to travel to town? Her independent streak would make it difficult for her to express any worries she might have. Once again, he looked down at the folded note he still held in his hand. Until he could discover who had written it, he would not be able to rest easily. The sound of someone clearing their throat made Nicholas look up to see Jamieson in the study’s doorway.
“My lord, Mr. Lockwood has arrived. He’s in the salon.”
“Thank you, Jamison. Please ask Lady Guildford to join us.”
With a nod, Jamieson disappeared from the doorway, and Nicholas closed his eyes briefly. Would she fight him on the two portraits, despite their bargain? He rapped his knuckles on the desk and headed out of his office. There was only one way to find out.
The salon was bright and cheery, but the weather had cast a sullen pall on the room. Lockwood was standing at the couch table situated behind the main sitting area. The man was fairly young, perhaps only a couple years younger than Victoria. The thought of leaving her in the man’s company for several hours every day did not make him happy, but he had no choice. He would be neglecting his duties enough while Lockwood was working on the second portrait of Victoria. He crossed the room to shake hands with the artist.
“Lockwood, I trust this room will suffice for your purposes.”
“It will indeed, my Lord. Despite the rainy weather, there’s enough light to ensure Lady Guildford’s portrait isn’t too dark. Might I inquire as to how her ladyship is feeling?”
“She’s much improved,” Nicholas said as he remembered their exertions of last night.
“Excellent. I promise not to tire her unduly.”
“Thank you, Victoria can be quite stubborn. Although I imagine she will be much more reasonable with you than she is with me.”
“I have found that to be true of most wives I’ve painted in the past, my lord.” Lockwood laughed. The artist gestured toward the table where several drawings laid. “After our conversation yesterday, I sketched a few preliminary drawings of possible poses for Lady Guildford’s portrait.”
“You’re quite talented, Lockwood,” he said as he picked up two of the man’s sketches. “In fact, I would like to buy the landscape you were working on yesterday.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“I wish to present it to my wife as a Christmas gift.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Nicholas studied the drawings Lockwood had brought with him. They were as good as he’d expected them to be, perhaps even better. His gaze fell on another sketch still lying on the table. He set aside the sketches in his hand and picked up the drawing.
“I believe this pose is the best one to use for my wife’s formal portrait.”
It was a sketch of Victoria facing a tall window with her head turned toward the viewer as if she’d been interrupted.
“I agree, my Lord. It’s the last sketch I made, and I’d hoped you would select it.”
A warm breeze sent an awareness racing through Nicholas. He didn’t even have to turn his head toward the door to know Victoria had entered the room. Eager to begin the process of mending their differences, he turned toward her. He stepped toward her with his hand outstretched in the silent request that she take his hand. Cold scorn blazed in her beautiful eyes as she glanced at his hand then back to his face. He’d not expected her anger to be gone, but he’d hoped it would have eased slightly if only because she’d considered his position. The contempt in her gaze said he’d been wrong. He would have an uphill battle when it came to eloquently explaining his position and earning her forgiveness.
“Victoria, come see the preliminary sketches, Mr. Lockwood has done.”
“Already?” she said coolly as she walked past him with an expression of disdain on her face. As she reached the table, her fingers touched several of the drawings, and her features softened to reflect amazement. She shook her head slightly, and Lockwood leaned toward her with an apologetic smile.
“These are simply based on what I remembered of your features, Lady Guildford. They’re primarily to reflect potential poses for your formal portrait.”
“You misunderstand, Mr. Lockwood, I think they’re lovely,” Victoria murmured. “Although I hope you won’t hide my flaws in the final portrait.”
“Flaws, my lady.”
“Yes, Lord Guildford is quite familiar with my numerous faults and behaviors,” she said as she turned her head toward Nicholas while still addressing the artist. “I don’t want you to hide a single one of my flaws in this portrait.”
The pointed remark made Nicholas stiffen. Victoria lifted her chin as she eyed him coldly in a silent challenge. Resolving not to let his anger show, he narrowed his gaze at her.
“We all have flaws, Victoria. I’m no exception,” he said in a tightly controlled voice determined not to engage in an argument with the artist present. He turned his attention back to Lockwood who was looking a bit bewildered. He cleared his throat as he met Lockwood’s confused gaze.
“There’s an elusive air about my wife that I’d like for you capture, if possible, Lockwood.”
“I believe I can do that, my lord.”
“I trust you’ll do the same for the second portrait.” The moment he spoke, Victoria immediately stiffened. Clearly she thought he would forgo the more intimate painting.
“Surely, my lord, we can make do with just the one.” Her lush mouth thinned in anger, her blue eyes dared him to argue with her. “The second portrait seems quite unnecessary.”
“As I stated last night, the second portrait is for my pleasure. I believe you agreed to that. A bargain is a bargain.” Not about to give way, Nicholas met her gaze steadily until she turned her head away.
“You’re right,” she said in a clipped tone of voice. “I’ll simply remember in the future to make my bargains with the devil.” Victoria’s smile was one of feigned sweetness, and it took every inch of willpower he possessed not to drag her from the room to a settle their differences in private. She picked up one of the drawings off the table.
“So, Mr. Lockwood, where do we begin?”
“Your husband has already selected the pose for your formal portrait—”
“
Oh
, has he,” Victoria said before she drew in a deep breath then exhaled it. “And which
one
did he select?”
“This one, my lady.” Lockwood pointed to the sketch on the table. The artist looked at Nicholas. “Do you prefer Lady Guildford in daywear or something more formal?”
Victoria stiffened as Lockwood addressed him and not her with regard to what she should wear. He wanted to groan at the rebellious shimmer in Victoria’s gaze and Lockwood’s misstep. In an effort to appease her, he collapsed his hands behind his back.
“Do you have a preference, Victoria?” he asked quietly. “I thought the blue riding habit you wore the other day might be a good choice. It makes the blue in your eyes stand out.”
For a moment, he saw surprise slide across her face. Just as quickly it was gone. She shook her head.
“I’m not sure I like the blue habit.” The abrupt rejection of his suggestion made him narrow his eyes again.
“Perhaps we should speak privately regarding the matter,” he said softly. “Mr. Lockwood doesn’t need our decision this very moment.”
“All right. The blue habit then. Is there anything else, my lord?” The sarcasm in her voice made him scowl at her. He was beginning to realize he would have to grovel for her forgiveness. The realization made his body tense with anger at how clumsily he’d handled his disagreement with Victoria. He didn’t respond to her goading. Instead he turned to the artist who had realized he was the innocent bystander in the middle of a marital dispute.
“I’ll leave you to your work then, Lockwood.” Nicholas shook hands with the artist and turned to Victoria. Before she could avoid him, he grasped her hand and carried it to his lips. Her hand shook as his mouth lingered on her skin. Nicholas raised his head to look into her eyes. Something flickered there that he thought might be pain. Was it possible he’d hurt her as well as insulted her?