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Richard made his way about Emma’s quarters, while Graham and Mrs. Ottoway spoke to the hotel porter, who momentarily complained about letting rooms to ladies until Graham backed the man against the wall.

“Lady Emma is not to blame, but rather someone on your staff who likely took a bribe and allowed a stranger into Lady Emma’s suite either through the main door or the servants’ entrance.

Now, her ladyship is in danger, and I will bring down the power of the British government upon your head if one hair on her ladyship’s has been displaced.

Now, be from my sight and discover what I mean to know! ”

“Did you send someone to carry a message to Duncan?” Richard called out as he picked up many of Lady Emma’s belongings and either tossed them into a pile of ruined clothing or folded them to place upon the trunk at the end of the bed.

“The note is on its way. It should only be a matter of a half hour or so before Duncan appears.”

With the hotel porter’s absence, he said, “What does Lady Emma hold that is of such interest to her tormentor? Obviously, Theodora and I saw the few clothes and footwear Emma’s household shared with their mistress. I know of no jewelry she has worn of late.”

Graham suggested, “What of the messages of which Lady Emma was so frightened?”

Richard had nearly forgotten the notes that Lady Emma had hidden away from herself. “Mrs. Ottoway, where did you say Lady Emma’s bag was stored?”

“We placed the cloth bag on the top of her ladyship’s wardrobe. She did not want to see it. At the time, I did not understand her purpose. I thought perhaps it held what she had worn when she was attacked. I did not ask, and Lady Emma did not say.”

Richard looked to the wardrobe, but saw nothing until he dragged a chair closer and stepped upon it for a look.

Just as Mrs. Ottoway had described, a cloth bag rested on the top, blocked from view by the decorative wooden trim on the top of the furniture.

Securing the bag, he stepped down and carried it to the bed to open.

Pulling out one stack and then another, he said, “Both stacks are tied together with black ribbon. Is that a reference to the nature of the tales?”

While Graham and Mrs. Ottoway spoke to the members of the hotel staff responsible for the suites on this floor, Richard carried a candle closer to the bed and loosened the ribbon on the messages that appeared to be the first one Lady Emma had received based on a date in the corner of each.

There was nothing to identify the letter as postpaid or unpaid or “1dDue” or free, nor of the mileage it covered to be delivered.

He had not taken notice of whether a letter box had been in use at Donoghue House, but he did not think so.

“Likely hand delivered to Lady Emma’s door, and that dastard of a butler accepted them each time.

Delivered by the culprit or someone paid to carry them to the house?

” All were questions for which he must still learn the answers.

Each appeared to be a single sheet, which was common, for even long letters were often crisscrossed, writing down the page and turning the paper at an angle to write more between the lines.

Each had been folded in the middle and then folded in thirds and the ends folded together, with one end tucked inside another, though many had been hastily refolded, and so they were a mishmash of sizes, but they appeared to have been pressed flat.

Only Lady Emma’s name and the house’s name had been written on any of them.

Some, in fact, had no name or place at all.

A bit of hot wax had sealed some of them, but, again, not all.

At length, Richard chose one and unfolded it to read:

Your parents do not want you. What secrets do they keep regarding your birth?

The next message carried a date of some three weeks later.

Did you ever wonder why you are so unlovable? Your mother would choose any other available as her daughter, rather than choosing you, for no one could love you.

“What do they say?” Graham asked as he came to stand beside Richard. He handed his friend the two he had read and reached for another one.

“Dear God!” Graham groaned. “Do you remember all the nasty and snide remarks each of us tolerated regarding our parentage when we were in school? But nothing like this! Though the words were harsher, we knew what to expect, for Duncan and Lady Elsbeth had warned us of such people. Those taunts did not eat away at our souls, as would these. What do the others say?”

Richard reached for the second stack and tugged the top two from the others. He handed one to Graham, while Richard unfolded the one he held. He read it aloud.

If you wish me gone, you must pay. I want your mother’s gold sapphires.

All three of them. I deserve them, for you are not worthy of them.

You are a deplorable example of the haut ton.

The world would be a better place without you in it.

Perhaps I will do away with you myself. You have one week before I shall pronounce the day you die.

“Three gold sapphires?” Graham asked. “Were such the ‘three’ items for which Lady Emma was searching the night you found her?”

“I do not think Emma knew where the yellow sapphires were hidden,” Richard declared.

“If she did, Lady Emma would have turned them over to the person to be rid of him. I would do the same; at least, I think I would, though I likely would have tired of the threats and held onto the sapphires just in stubbornness.”

“And you do not think Lady Emma might be equally as stubborn?” Graham asked.

“She would be,” Richard said with a heavy sigh. He looked at the stack of messages. “I should be searching for Emma before someone executes more harm upon her.”

“I could read through the messages,” Mrs. Ottoway volunteered, “and set aside the ones that might be of interest. It should not take more than half an hour. You should search the servants’ stairs, my lord.

We know Lady Emma did not come back down the main stairs.

Lord Graham, you should question those in the neighboring suites to learn if they heard anything.

Lady Emma left the room door open, so it is possible they heard something of her ladyship’s conversation with the intruder.

To blazes with the hotel porter and his rules of secrecy. Our girl is in danger.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Graham said with a smile of true regard. “Orson, hand Mrs. Ottoway the notes, and you examine the servants’ passage as the lady has suggested. At least those tasks will be completed before Duncan arrives and orders us to do them.”

Mrs. Ottoway asked, “Do you think it possible that Lady Emma had buried the gold sapphires under her mother’s lilies so no one could find them?”

“Such might explain why the flowers are no longer in the ground,” Graham observed.

There were too many unknowns to suit Richard’s disposition.

He felt as if he had failed Lady Emma, and so he did as Graham and Mrs. Ottoway had suggested.

He crossed the room and shoved the servants’ door open with the palm of his hand.

Noting the darkness, he returned for a candle and a holder.

“I will follow the stairs to the street and ask if anyone saw a woman with brown hair and wearing a light blue gown,” he told Mrs. Ottoway, who appeared totally engrossed in her duties.

The woman was opening first one of the notes and then another, rearranging them, perhaps by dates or a continuation of the previous ones, but the lady nodded her head in understanding, though she did not look up from her task.

Distraught as he had ever been, Richard opened the door and entered the servants’ passage.

He held the candle high so it might reflect further along the hall.

This hotel, which had only been open a matter of months, had originally been a terrace home on the corner of Brook and Davies Streets.

Lady Emma’s quarters were the second along this side of the main hall, which crossed the second storey above ground.

Richard could view the access doors for servants to reach the bedchambers of those residing on her ladyship’s left and her right.

“ Should have locked the door from the inside ,” Richard grumbled, though he knew doing so would not have secured Lady Emma’s safety if someone wished to reach her. He lifted the candle to shed light on the stairs themselves. “T hese must lead to the kitchen, and perhaps, outside .”

Settled with what he must execute for Lady Emma’s sake, Orson started down the steps which turned sharply to the left.

He had reached the turn when he noticed a small piece of heavy paper lying along the inside edge of the steps.

He stopped and bent carefully on the narrow stairs to pick it up.

It was of the same weight and style as a gentleman’s calling card.

He lifted the light higher and noted similar jagged pieces of the same type of paper going further down the steps. “A good housekeeper would see these pieces removed if they had been here for more than a few hours,” Richard told himself.

Looking back to where he had entered the passage, there were more pieces.

“You sweet, beautiful woman,” he declared.

He returned to the top and began to collect the pieces, which appeared every other step, or thereabouts.

“Brilliant!” he said with a large smile as his pace increased the closer he came to the bottom, where he was required to pause and bend down to search for another clue.

“ Nothing to the left ,” he told himself where he could hear the sound of servants banging pots and the like, realizing it was the kitchen.

“ Outside ,” he determined, quickly exiting the door leading to the front of the terraced row structure.

He blew out the candle, set it on the sill of a barred window, and continued to seek out the fingertip-sized bits of a social card.

They obviously led to a row of carriages awaiting toffs and ladies traveling from one entertainment to the next.

At length, the trail of paper ended with a large corner of the card resting in the gutter. Richard looked about to note several drivers standing by their coaches. He approached, and they snapped into action. “You require a coach, sir?” the oldest of the men asked.

“I require information,” he corrected and reached in his pocket for his purse. “There was a coach yonder.” He pointed to the empty space. “I want to know who owns it and where I might find the coachman.”

“Has he caused an offense?” the same man asked.

“Not at all,” Richard assured. “A young lady dressed in blue boarded the coach. I know that,” he said with authority, “for she tore up a gentleman’s card and left it in the street,” He opened his hand to show them the pieces.

“I had supper earlier with her and her aunt and cousin. We walked to the square before returning to the hotel.”

“I saw them cross earlier,” the tallest of the three said.

“Do we know in whose coach the lady departed, say a quarter hour to twenty minutes prior?” he pressed. Richard would prefer to learn the information himself rather than have Duncan call these men in for questioning. “I have ten pounds for the man who knows the answer.”

“Andrew Sawyer, sir,” said the one who had been eyeing the purse Richard held.

Richard searched in the purse and handed the man the promised fee. “Convince Mr. Sawyer when he returns to ask for Lord Orson inside the Mirvat. There is ten pounds for each of you, including Mr. Sawyer, if he can tell me where he left the lady.”

“Has the woman insulted you, my lord?” the older man asked tentatively.

“Not at all. However, she departed with a friend, and her aunt and cousin are concerned, for she has been under a physician’s care for several weeks.

They do not wish her to overextend herself.

We have all been in the country together of late, for her health, just arriving today from Buckinghamshire. ”

“And if we do not bring Mr. Sawyer to you?” The older man continued to be the group’s spokesman.

“Have you heard of Lord Macdonald Duncan?” he asked.

“Aye, sir,” the man responded.

“I am one of Lord Duncan’s sons, and I require your assistance. I would not ask if such was not vital in saving the young lady’s life. Moreover, you will earn my patronage, which is genuinely worth more than a one-time payment of ten pounds a hundred times over.”