Page 107 of Beyond the Grave
"You'll manage," he tossed over his shoulder as he tightened a saddle strap.
I sighed. "I don't want to manage, I want to excel. I want to out-decorate the dowager Lady Harcourt." There. I said it. Now I sounded spiteful.
Seth hauled the side saddle down from the beam and carried it past us. "There's quite a simple solution, you know."
"Don't tell me," I said, "you consider yourself a master decorator."
He laughed. "No, but I know who has the best, most sophisticated taste in all the world."
"Really? Can you introduce me?"
He pouted at Lincoln. "No, because you're not allowing me to come to France with you."
"Your friend is in Paris?"
"He is. He lived here for a while then returned home when he grew bored. His name is Monsieur Fernesse, and he produces some of the finest pieces in all of Europe. His furniture and fittings are highly sought after. I'm sure he'll guide you in all things tasteful and sophisticated."
"Write Charlie a letter of introduction before we go," Lincoln said, taking the saddle from Seth.
"Certainly." His cheeks grew rosy. "A word of warning—do not believe everything Fernesse tells you about me."
I grinned. "Oh? Is he prone to exaggeration?"
Seth's cheeks glowed. "That's one way of putting it."
I returned inside and changed into my riding habit. When I emerged from my room, Lincoln was waiting for me in the corridor. Something was wrong. He looked troubled.
"What's is it?" I asked, searching his face for clues.
"We won't be riding today."
"Is Rosie ill?" I hoped there was nothing wrong with my sweet little mare.
He shook his head then he leaned against the wall and scraped his hand through his hair. Was I mistaken, or did his hand shake?
I grasped his forearms. "What is it?"
"One of the straps on your saddle was cut. Not all the way through, but enough that it would have come apart during a ride. If you'd been riding fast, it would have slipped off and…"
"My god. When you say cut, do you mean deliberately?"
He nodded. "It was straight, not frayed, and clearly done by a blade."
I slumped against the wall too. Someone had wanted me to have an accident, perhaps even kill me. I was the only one who used the side saddle. If Lincoln hadn't spotted it… I shuddered.
It was his turn to grasp my forearms. His gaze searched mine. "It was a clumsy attempt, easily spotted. Its success depended upon a number of factors going against us. Whoever did it was either too foolish to have thought it through, too desperate, or in a hurry. It leads me to think it was merely opportunistic." He let me go to drag both hands through his hair and down his face.
"If it was clumsy, then you ought to be calmer."
"Iamcalm!" he growled.
"You don't sound it."
My lip wobbled and he took my face in his hands. "This might be the first of many attempts, Charlie. We must be vigilant."
"You think they'll try again?"
"They will and with more sophisticated methods next time. So I've decided. We're not going to France."
