Page 29 of The Baroness of Sin
Martha
James' hands shook as he held the note in his hands. He didn’t know what to believe. His heart and head twisted in upon themselves. He wanted this note to be true, desperately wanted that, but how could it be? How could this note found by his daughter be the real one and the note delivered to him by his employee and sealed not be?
“Where did you find this, little one?” His voice was soft but desperate even in his own ears.
“It was left out in the garden,” his daughter explained rather matter-of-factly. “It almost got rained on, but I stopped it,” she added proudly. “Did you leave it out there, Papa? You should be more careful with your letters, especially special sounding ones like that.”
“I…” James was baffled, “I did not leave it out there, Amanda.” He went to look at the other note, which he had stashed under a pile of papers. The handwriting was similar, but not exact. One of the notes was a forgery, and James was starting to get a clear idea of which.
“Amanda,” he said in a clear authoritative tone, “I am going to ask you a question, and it's very important that you are honest. You found this note in the garden? No one gave it to you to give to Papa?”
“No, Papa, that's the honest truth. I found it stuck to my shoe,” she said and pointed. “If you look there you can see the print in the corner from my shoe where the ink smudged.” She was right; the corner had a smudge that could be a sole print, and on a second examination, James could see the odd spread of dotted water stains. Like the letter was covered in rain... or tears.
Anger was beginning to stew beneath the surface of the Lord of Barristen. A boiling pitch of it. But right now, it was mixed with joy. He picked up his daughter again, in a tighter, more celebratory hug, spinning her around as he squeezed. “Thank you so much my darling, wonderful, beautiful, smart, little girl. Thank you for giving me this gift.”
She loved him. She loved him, and that made more sense than anything else in the whole world. Of course, she loved him. And she needed to hear exactly what he thought of that.
“Vickers!” The Lord of the manor’s voice carried louder and more jubilant than it had in days. “I need a shave!”
* * *
The Earl was able to collect himself in a surprisingly brief amount of time as Vickers and the other attendants were happy to put in a little extra work when they saw their Lord so full of vitality again, so it took about half the time it would have taken with a group of less loyal employees.
“Will you be taking dinner this evening, My Lord?” Vickers asked optimistically.
“I will. But there is some business I must address first,” James said curtly as he examined himself. He gave an approving nod and headed for the door. Vickers wasn’t sure whether to be happy that his Lord was dressing and eating again or curse the gentleman for his continued cryptic nature. He settled on rolling his eyes and going to alert the cooking staff that meals would likely resume their usual schedule.
James found that the vast lawns that he normally tracked between his home and Martha’s were now riddled with muddied puddles and pits. He had been paying attention to little outside his mind but did recall it had been raining quite heavily the last few days. Although he hated the idea of having to wait, he had the stable attendants arrange his carriage. Arriving at Martha’s manor covered in mud would be rather ill-suited for what he had in mind.
The ride was short but tense. James felt the anger growing inside him, the closer he got to his destination. Though he fought to keep his outside demeanor calm, by the time he had arrived, his hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white, and he could feel the rough thumping of his heart in his forehead.
He spoke stiffly, requesting to speak with Mr. Bradford, and the butler led him to a sitting room for him to wait in. The anger that had been threatening to boil over was soothed by the familiarity of Lady Carrington’s home. This was a place of calm and happy memories, and James was having a hard time maintaining his bluster, try as he might.
“I must admit, My Lord,” Benjamin spoke suddenly as he walked through the door, appearing as though he simply wished to get this meeting over with, “when the footman first informed me that you were here to see me, I didn’t believe him. I assumed you were here to see my sister, but he said no. He said you asked for me specifically.”
“I did,” James informed him, and he already felt his jaw begin to tighten again.
“And you have need of me?” Benjamin continued, his voice uncertain.
“Yes, I wish to confirm some facts that may have been misrepresented to me recently,” James said.
“Honestly, I cannot fathom what you could need my help with, in that regard, but if I can help then, of course, I will,” Benjamin told him, looking more confused than ever. James faltered but pressed on. He could be wrong... or Benjamin could be an extremely talented actor and liar.
“Your sister left, yes?” James started.
“Yes,” Benjamin nodded.
“She left to go home? To visit with her aunt and sister?”
“That's correct,” Benjamin told him.
“And when will she be back?” James asked.
Benjamin hesitated, and James grew immensely suspicious. “We didn’t discuss an exact stretch of time, but if I recall, she didn’t intend on being gone for more than a week or two.”
James wasn’t expecting this answer; he thought Benjamin’s answers would align more with the first letter.
“A week or two?” he asked. “Not indefinitely?”
