Page 66 of A Secret Correspondence
Ruth grumbled.
Samuel rubbed his face. “Perhaps our approach has been wrong. Do you have no other information about this trunk? No other way to trace it? We could contact the ship it wastransported on and see if we can locate it that way. Once we have proof, it would be a simple thing to put Leclair behind bars.”
Marguerite put the letter on the counter. “We came here twenty years ago. The man I traveled with was a friend of my father’s, and he did his best to find the trunk once we reached England, but it had been misplaced. The ship claimed to never have received it, which he believed was a lie. We could never prove it.”
“Perhaps if we looked at their records now, we could glean more information,” Samuel said. “What company was the ship chartered through?”
“I was too young to be privy to that knowledge, but Paul would know.”
“Paul?”
“My father’s friend. When I first received the notes, I visited him to ask for his advice. He believed I needed to leave Harewood so the person could not find me again.”
“Paul,” Samuel said again, looking at her. The word was soft on his lips, but all at once, everything seemed to click into place.
His face went slack, his eyes boring into hers.
Oh, no. Samuel knew. Heknew.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samuel couldn’t breathe. His lungs contracted, but nothing filled his body. Marguerite’s pale blue eyes met his, the candlelight dancing in them, burning yellow within the depths of her dark pupils.
Paul. He knew that name.Shewas the one who had written to Paul all those months ago. A man she cared for and trusted so deeply she could pour out the innermost feelings of her heart. A man who was like a father to her. The closest thing she had left on this earth, he imagined, since she had lost her own father. It was all so very obvious now. Samuel felt ten times the fool for not recognizing her earlier.
Everything fell into place, the pieces all sorting together in his mind. Marguerite embodied the soul of the person in those letters. She was the person he felt he knew better than anyone else, the person who knewhim. Judging by her wide eyes and wary expression, she was already aware of his role in their correspondence.
What had her final letter said to him? Something that mentioned how she was certain he knew the reason and understood why she was ending the correspondence. There was onlyone reason they should cease their communication, and the timing of the missive was particularly telling. Marguerite must have been informed of his impending engagement. She must have known, and she had donenothingto stop it.
Hot anger swept through him. Samuel was engaged to a stranger, and Marguerite had allowed it to happen.
“Should we visit this man?” Oliver asked, bringing Samuel’s thoughts swiftly back to the room. “We could gather more information from him and see about the shipping company ourselves.”
“We do not have enough time to do so before the appointed meeting.” Ruth tapped the letter. “Tomorrow is Friday.”
Ridley swore. “I care very little for this person’s threats. We will not send you to visit the grave alone, Marguerite.”
She gave him a grateful smile.
“He deserves to be thrown in gaol,” Oliver muttered.
“Yes,” Ruth agreed. “But first, we must find a way to put him there. To do so, we must prove he has been tormenting you.”
Silence permeated the shop as each person grew lost in their own thoughts. Focusing on the present task was far more enticing than stewing in Samuel’s own hurt and anger. Despite the situation he found himself in, he would not leave Marguerite to fare on her own.
Samuel had no notion of how to demand justice, but he knew without the trunk or further proof, Leclair would walk free. Searching the Faversham estate was foolhardy, for they did not know where the man was hiding the trunk, and doing something so extreme would show their entire hand.
“If he burns the contents of the trunk, does he not lose the entirety of his bargaining offerings?” Samuel could not look at Marguerite. Instead, he glanced to his other friends. “What then would he have to entice Marguerite to bring forth the alleged diamonds?”
“I fear pushing him to that point would create a desperate man,” Ridley said.
The room grew quiet.
Oliver hummed softly, then nodded to himself. “Yes, I think I have it. We will need to be particular about our movements, but if we are careful, I do believe we can manage it.”
Ruth circled his wrist, clinging to him. “What is it, Oliver?”
“Do you have paper and a pencil, Marguerite? It would be easier to explain with a sketch.”
