Page 25 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
Standing as if that might clear her head, she pressed her palms to the desk, steadying herself.
Again, she read the professor’s words—
My dearest Alexandra,
I regret that I must write to you with dire news. I am afraid it is too late for me. But I pray you will evade this treacherous web. It is not my intention to frighten you, but you must know the truth. You are in danger, and it is my fault. I deeply regret burdening you with the relic. It cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands—I fear its evil cannot be stopped. I no longer know whom I can trust. Take caution, my dear girl. The enemy is one of us.
Alex dragged in a harsh breath.
The enemy is one of us.
The words hammered in her thoughts.One of us.
Professor Stockwell would not have considered a hired thug like Rooney to be a member of his inner circle. Theenemywas someone he’d viewed as a colleague. As a friend.
Someone he’d held in high regard.
But had Stockwell acted from a place of logic when he composed the missive? Or had fear gotten the better of him?
If the professor was right, someone he trusted had plotted against him and the others who’d been killed.
Dear God, Benedict had spoken the truth.
If he believed the menace came in the form of a stranger, Benedict might let down his guard. He was in true danger.
She had to warn him.
Bolting from behind her desk, she nearly collided with her housekeeper.
She met the woman’s surprised eyes. “Mrs. Thomas, I have to leave.”
The housekeeper looked her over in a quick appraisal. “I’ll prepare your shirtwaist and your skirt while you put a dab of cream on those dark circles under your eyes.”
“There’s no time for that.” Perhaps she did look a fright, wearing a comfortable but drab day dress while her features betrayed a lack of sleep, but that was of no consequence. She needed to tell him the message she’d worked out. She could not be certain she’d interpreted it correctly. But if she was right, it could be a matter of life—and death.
His.
Chimes rang out from the hall clock. Twelve in all.
Concern etched the matron’s features. Had she read the fear in Alex’s expression?
“Is something wrong?”
“Quite possibly. Keep the entryways locked. Do not open the door for anyone until I return.”
With Mrs. Thomas trailing after her, she hurried to leave. Slipping her cloak off the coat rack, she draped it over her shoulders.
A soft rapping upon the front door stopped Alex in her tracks. She gave a nod to the housekeeper. “Be sure to check the peep hole.”
“My, you are making me more than a bit skittish,” Mrs. Thomas murmured with a little frown.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to…but I’ve reason to believe we have greater need than usual for caution.”
Mrs. Thomas gave a nod and went to the door. When she turned back to Alex, the small lines marking her forehead had deepened with worry. “Your sister is here. I’ve seldom seen her look so grim.”
“Please, do let her in.” Alex let out a low breath as a wave of apprehension washed over her. “I wonder what has happened.”
Mrs. Thomas opened the door, and Jennie crossed the threshold. The housekeeper had not exaggerated. Her younger sister’s features were drawn and serious, her green eyes darkened to a mossy hue, as they tended to do when she was troubled.
