Page 73 of One Wicked Secret
Trust no one!
She sat on the floor in silence, the walls of doubt closing in around her. Daniel had posted a man at Edenberry. Was he there to find evidence? Was Daniel working with Magnus? Had they killed Mr Carver together? It would explain why he married her, then deserted her, and why he’d kept Magnus’ trip to Geneva a secret.
While in London, had he staged the scene at the perfumer’s and The Raven Hotel to prove her life was in danger, to ensure he was the only man she trusted? HadDaniel’s man shot her in the mews and that’s why he didn’t chase the blackguard?
Was she a complete and utter fool?
No! The passion between them was undeniable—too fierce to be anything but real. But she lacked experience with men. She lacked faith in herself.
“It’s obvious everything is connected.” He was watching her closely, perhaps trying to sense the reason for her quietude. “The fraud committed against your father is linked to the murders of Carver and Lord Grafton. We just need to follow these leads.”
She began gathering the books, torn between confronting the man she had loved for years or fleeing the house in the dead of night.
Trust no one!
“Elsa.” He caught her trembling hand. “I know this is overwhelming, but we’ll find the man who is out to destroy your family.”
Tears filled her eyes.
Don’t let it be you!
“I know the message says to trust no one, but I think we should take the evidence to Daventry,” he continued. “There’s no man more skilled in these types of cases. Someone is willing to kill for this information. Why else would your parents make it so hard to find?”
Despite opening her mouth, she couldn’t muster a reply. Surely the villain would insist on keeping these clues secret. Daniel’s willingness to involve Mr Daventry spoke of his innocence.
“Elsa?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just I find myself questioning everyone.”
He hesitated. “Questioning me?”
Don’t be silly, she wanted to say. She had every reason to trust him, every reason to doubt him, too. And she suspected he was not being honest about Clara’s injury.
“Tell me something,” she said, mentally preparing a test. “Did Clara fall off her horse? Is that really how she gained that awful scar?”
She felt the distance opening between them—a fissure stretching as wide as a chasm—before he stood. “They are questions for Clara to answer, not me.”
“You don’t trust me with the truth?”
“It’s not my truth to tell.”
“I understand.” She rose to her feet, feeling more alone than she had in her entire life. More confused than the hours spent wondering why he had not come to her bed.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he said, the words edged with worry. “I promised Clara I’d never mention it again.”
“And you mustn’t break that oath.” She collected two books from the rug and placed them in the satchel, the satchel she would steal if she left this house tonight.
“It’s not in my nature to betray a trust, Elsa.”
“Yet you did. On our wedding day.”
He breathed deeply, the sound of despair. “I deserve that. But I’ve given you no other reason to doubt my loyalty.”
She continued filling the leather bag with books, thrusting them in, though she wished she could throw them in the fire and forget they existed. “You saw the warning written in the book. I’m afraid to trust anyone. You betrayed me once before.”
Tears slid slowly down her cheeks.
There was no hope for them.
