Page 26 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
Sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold, jigging his leg restlessly, Liam pored over the newly arrived scandal sheets. He had tucked them between the pages of the daily newspaper, so Carlton and Denninson would not know what he was doing if they happened to come into the drawing room. He had done the same thing since the night in the gambling hall, out of curiosity—more for the men she might name, and to gain a better understanding of the woman he had saved from Lord Westleigh—but there had been no further revelations from the “London Butterfly.”
Has she lost her nerve, or has some overzealous gentleman taken it upon himself to silence her? Or is she, perhaps, building the anticipation?
The idea that some loutish fellow had possibly hurt her, or worse, increased the pulse of his anxiety, and his leg jigged faster upon his knee. Yet, he managed to comfort himself with the knowledge that, if anythinghadhappened to Miss Black, he would have read of it in the paper.
Just then, a knock came at the drawing room door, and the butler, Wilks, entered with a silver tray balanced upon his hand.
“Good afternoon, My Lord,” he said. “An express rider has just delivered this letter, with the instruction that it is to be delivered to you immediately.”
Liam frowned. “Did he say who it was from?”
“He did not, My Lord.” Wilks brought the tray over and lowered it, so Liam could pick the letter up himself. “Would you like me to fetch you a fresh cup of tea?”
Liam shook his head. “No, thank you.” He paused. “I do not suppose you have seen Carlton or Denninson this afternoon, have you? I know they imbibed a great deal last night, but it is almost two o’clock.”
“I believe the former is still in his bed, while the latter has been playing the violin for the better part of two hours, My Lord.” Wilks offered his master a pointed smile. “I am surprised you did not hear him.”
Despite Liam’s best efforts to involve them in improving his fortunes with keen investments, they had decided thattheirefforts were better spent draining Liam’s liquor collection dry. Well, Carlton had. Denninson had always been a late riser, who preferred to emerge in the afternoon after several hours of private reading or musical enjoyment.
Liam chuckled. “I have been rather distracted.”
“Will that be all, My Lord?”
“It will,” Liam replied.
“Very good, My Lord.” With a bow, Wilks turned and exited the drawing room, closing the door behind him.
Curious, Liam took his letter opener and was about to slice beneath the wax seal, when the imprint made him pause. He knew that crest well, for it was his own. Only, it did not have the initial of “K” in the center.
Tearing the letter open, he began to read with concerned eyes:
My Dear Nephew,
I write to you with sincerest apologies. I cannot meet with you in London, as we discussed, for matters have taken a turn for the worse here at Keswick Manor. I would not ordinarily trouble you with this news, but I thought it prudent to inform you, in case you wondered why I had not come to visit you.
I do, however, hope to be in London by the end of the month, though I shall write to you again when I am certain that it is possible for me to leave. Please do not worry, for I will ensure that everything is taken care of, as per the duties I promised you I would uphold.
Yours Faithfully,
Uncle Edward
Liam stiffened as he re-read the note, the beat of his heart quickening to a rapid pace. He did not even notice that his hand was trembling as he clutched the piece of paper, until it fell from his grasp and fluttered to the floor.
“How can I read that and not worry?” he muttered to himself. “I can do nothing but worry. What if something happens? What if—” he trailed off, and jumped to his feet, snatching up the letter as he marched toward the drawing room door.
He had hoped, perhaps naively, that he would never have to set foot in that terrible house again. After half a decade away, he had thought he could simply continue to avoid it, and allow others to take care of it while he resided elsewhere. That way, he could live his life without ever having to face the past.
If I stay and do nothing, I am a coward. I may be many things—a fool, a friend, a cuckold—but I will never be that.
Flinging open the door, he shouted for Wilks. The butler appeared from the corridor that led to the kitchen, wearing a startled expression.
“My Lord?”
Liam steeled himself, hating what he was about to say. “Have my horse saddled, and have the saddlebags filled with provisions for several days of travel.”
“Travel?” Wilks raised an eyebrow. “Where do you mean to go, My Lord?”
Liam looked toward the front door, a swell of dread already blooming in his tight chest. “Home, Wilks. I mean to go home.”
