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It was streaked with tears.

“Lady Samantha?” he asked. “What is it?”

She seemed to look behind him, as if looking for someone, and she winced in the light.

“Tell me!” he ordered, and she covered her ears and closed her eyes.

“Please do not raise your voice,” she whimpered. “It hurts.”

“What hurts?” he asked, in the gentlest voice that he could muster.

He did not wish to play a guessing game all day with her, but she seemed so completely ill at ease that there didn’t seem to be any other choice.

“My head,” she whispered, “and my eyes. God, was the sun always this bright?”

At last, it all made more sense.

“Ah, you certainly did have your fill last night,” he laughed gently. “It is quite normal, especially after your first drink.”

“It will not be forever, will it?”

“Heavens, no. No, it will only be until tomorrow or so. You might even feel better by this evening, and then you can have another drink.”

“I shall not drink again for as long as I live,” she sighed. “I truly do not know how my father —”

She froze. Graham froze. He had made his assumptions about the Earl, but after he had proven himself to be judgmental of the two of them right out of the gate, it was not as though he could continue to make accusations.

“How my father managed to escort me to my bed chambers last night,” she finished at last though it was certainly not what she had wished to say.

“Is that all that is bothering you?” he asked. “Only, it is quite clear to me that you have been crying.”

“It is only because of my condition,” she replied with yet another glance around.

“Are you quite sure?”

She leaned in towards him suddenly, wincing as she did so, and whispered something that he could not hear.

“What was that?” he asked. “You were too quiet.”

“Because nobody can hear!” she hissed. “Were you followed?”

“No, not that I am aware of, and with how loud each guest here is when they choose to be, I am quite sure that I would have known if I was.”

She steadied her breathing and took a step back, her eyes closed gently. When she looked back up at him, he already knew what she was going to say.

“We were seen, weren’t we?”

“Or heard,” she sighed. “I do not know which, not that it matters.”

“By whom? I can speak with them and have the matter dealt with, do not worry.”

“I thought you might suggest that, but therein lies the issue. I do not know.”

“How do you not know?”

“I found this letter in my room. It must have been slipped under the door while I… was not in there.”

She handed him a note, and he read it more intently than he had ever read anything in his life. It was spiteful and frightening, and it had clearly worked well on Lady Samantha. Had thingsbeen different, he might have accused her of forging it herself, pretending to blackmail him, but he knew better than that by now.