Page 59 of The Secret of the Three Fates
I flicked it on, shining the light on the small plait. Yes. I could make it out clearly, an edge of a letter just beneath the hair. Now that was intriguing, indeed. I snapped the ring shut. “Thank you, Hugh.”
“Did you find what you were looking for back there?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the misty road before him.
“I rather think I have.”
IRAN THROUGHHawick House, past the disapproving butler and the curious underbutler. Past young Bridget, with her basket of soiled linens and straight into Ruan’s sickroom where I found him sitting upright in bed. He was reading with a book propped against his knee—right arm bound to his chest. His color was vastly better than it had been when last I saw him and my heart squeezed at the sight.
Now’s not the time for sentiment, Ruby.
I hurried over to the bed and climbed in beside him, fully intending to tell him all about what I’d discovered. The mattress gave a perturbed squeak at the addition of my weight. He shifted over to make more room for me and winced. Suddenly my reckless heart remembered just how close I’d come to losing him.
“You know this is rather novel.…” I said, mustering a carelessness that I did not feel.
He closed his book, thumb marking his page.
I could not bring myself to look at him—too afraid he’d see how deep my growing sentiment for him ran. “Last time we were chasing a murderer, it was me who kept trying to die. This time, it’s you!”
“I’m pleased that I can amuse you from my sickbed.” He tilted his chin toward my pocket. “What do you have there?”
I glanced down to where my hand was unconsciously covering the ring. Usually Ruan and I didn’t need to speak so plainly. His peculiar ability to hear my thoughts made our working together easy. Whatever was giving him trouble at Manhurst must still be causing him difficulties.
I reached in my pocket, pulling out the ring and sidled closer to his left side, mindful of his bandages. “See here?” I pointed to the edge of the etching.
Ruan made a sound in the back of his throat, taking the ring and holding it up to the light. “Thereissomething beneath the hair.”
“Do you happen to have a penknife?”
“I’m a witch, not a barrister, in case you’ve forgotten.”
I hadn’t. But he must be feeling better if he’s grousing again. I folded his fingers around the ring and patted his fist. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
I climbed out of bed and scurried off to the library, which was blissfully empty. A desk sat at the far side and I began rummaging through drawers in search of something sharp and thin enough to pry the hair out from the channel of the ring. The first drawer was empty. I started to open the second when I heard voices coming from the hall. Every muscle in my body went rigid.
“Do you think they know?” The first was clearly Malachi Lennox. I’d gotten rather accustomed to hearing him grumbling through closed doors.
“No. I don’t think they do. I’ve only now discovered it,” Andrew replied. He was trying to keep his voice down but I heard him clear as day. “I am duty bound to tell them. After all, Uncle’s life is on the line. This is more important than any petty squabbles between you.”
Tell us what?
“He deserves his fate after what befell Mariah.”
“But you know he didn’t kill Lucy,” Andrew argued. “Why let him suffer for a crime he did not commit?”
Malachi made an unpleasant sound in his throat. “He may as well have done. Look at what trouble my brother has already brought with him. That strange man in the laundry and that harridan of an American. Andrew, this is an untenable situation. You must send them away at once before anyone else learns what you’ve discovered. My brother made his bed long ago, and now he must live with the repercussions of his intemperate actions.”
My hand toyed with the brass knob of the drawer. I quickly took stock of the room for potential escapes—only one way in and we were on the second floor. The footsteps grew closer. Oh, blast it, I was trapped. Without a second thought, I dropped down below the large desk and tucked myself deep into the shadows as the door to the library creaked open.
I closed my eyes, slowing my breath, and awaited discovery. Hiding beneath the desk was an ill-conceived notion. I could have perused the shelves and pretended I’d been looking for a book, but no. No. I had to choose the most suspicious option.
However, if Ihadn’thidden, they would have certainly known I’d overheard them, and that would have been doubly bad. Who knew what Malachi was capable of? The man’s irrational hatred for Mr. Owen made my skin crawl. I could not fathom willingly partaking in a decades-long estrangement from my little sister. Good God, I’d have given anything to have one more argument over ribbons or frocks, and no matter how I tried, I simply could not conceive of a world in which a stolen bride was worth forty-odd years of bitterness between brothers. Family waseverything. But then again, perhaps I only felt that way because I no longer had one. I bit my lower lip trying not to think overmuch on that notion.
The heavy footsteps made their way farther from the desk, followed by the telltale clink of crystal and a slosh of liquid. A chair groaned.
Damnation.
There was nothing to do but wait. So, I sat there, curled beneath the desk until my unwitting companion tired of drinking.
It was approximately half an hour before the door snicked shut again. With a sigh of relief, I crawled out from my hiding spot and continued my search for a penknife. As I opened the third drawer, I found a travel writing box tucked inside. Within it was a lovely silver folding knife. I tucked it in my pocket and fled.
