Page 50 of The Wise Daughter

Nora rummaged through everything, the paintings, the silverware, the candlesticks, stirring up dust and flecks of dirt and cobwebs as she went.

Carver must now be aware that she and her father were at Raven Manor.

The walls around her suddenly looked too close, the room too small.

She might as well have been a fly caught in a web.

Inhaling deeply, she paused her frantic search and forced herself to slow. Against the wall in the room full of portraits was a plain, small writing desk. On the desk was an intricately carved wooden chest with a lock on it.

“Well…” She placed a hand on her hip. “I’ve already broken one lock.”

She reached for a nearby, heavily weighted candlestick and pounded on the lock until it snapped clean off.

Lifting the lid, she was hit with the smell of parchment and ink.

The inside was full of letters. Stacks of them all in the same hand, all addressed to C at Holmrook castle.

All were signed C as well, nothing more.

Some were dated a few months before the late duke died though most were written within the past few months when Aaron had been home.

Nora sat on the edge of the small, spindly chair and moved her eyes over samples of lines from the letters as quickly as she could. Every minute she sat in that chair was another minute Carver might be closing in.

You should understand by now how I operate. Money first, then answers.

She dropped that letter on the floor and read from another.

I’ve discovered something important, but these things can’t be rushed. I require another thousand pounds…

On to the next letter.

I believe I’ve finally gathered enough evidence. I can now prove your relation to the duke, but I cannot provide a strong enough case that you should be considered a legitimate heir until I receive another payment.

With each letter, her heart raced faster. If she was correct, Carver was trying to prove he was in line to inherit. He was paying someone to gather evidence. She had always known that the mysteries surrounding the duke had to extend beyond common thieving.

The next letter was dated only a few days ago. It was the longest yet, mostly full of threats and demands for money, but two small paragraphs made several pieces of the thieving puzzle click together.

No more excuses. So what if it takes time to sell all the things you’ve acquired?

You’ll have all the wealth you need soon enough.

You knew from the beginning that my silence comes at a cost. I’ll give you everything you need.

When you inherit an entire dukedom, it’s only fair I have everything I need.

A last word of warning. If you don’t remove that little chit soon, I will.

It’s too late to give in to silly scruples.

Our business will be much simpler if we don’t have another person with a marriage settlement to deal with.

As soon as she’s gone and you have the money, we’ll rid ourselves of the duke and take our places in society.

Nora dropped the letter and stood but instantly had to sit back down.

Every inch of her trembled. As she tried to stand again, she leaned against the chair and took several shallow breaths.

It was one thing to hold suspicions in her thoughts, but to see the words spelled out so clearly on paper was quite another.

They were going to kill Aaron. Carver was going to kill Aaron.

She had to return to the castle and warn him, regardless of how he felt about her. Now that she was gone, Carver could move forward with his plans. There was no time to waste.

As she made her way to the stairs, leaning against the wall for support, she heard her father call.

“Nora! Come down and greet our guests.”

Guests? Impossible. The word didn’t make sense.

No one was coming to visit at this late hour.

Unless Carver was already at their door.

In a wild rush, Nora raced down the remaining stairs, catching her fumbling steps with the banister to keep from falling.

What would she do if it were Carver? How could she protect herself and her father from his malicious intentions?

But when she reached the stairs, it was not Carver standing in the vestibule.

Nora blinked several times to make sure she was not merely seeing things, especially since she had seen the portrait of this woman in her younger days only minutes earlier. Nora attempted a curtsey but had to grab the chair in front of her to keep from falling to the floor.

“Mrs. Westlake?”

“Nora!” Her father took her arm.

“Miss Lacy, you are unwell!” The stately woman rushed forward, took Nora’s other arm, and, with the help of her father, guided Nora to the sofa where they all sat.

“You’re right. I am not well,” she breathed out, “but I cannot stay.”

“Goodness, Nora,” her father said, looking embarrassed before their old neighbor. “Are you certain the matter is so dire? Can it not wait at least for a cup of tea?”

At the risk of being a miserable hostess, Nora shook her head. “Not at all. I have to warn Aaron. I think he’s in danger.”

She was about to apologize to Mrs. Westlake, who had gone terribly pale, until the woman stepped forward and seized Nora’s arm.

“Take me to him. My carriage is ready. Wherever you need to go. If my son is in danger, let us help him at once.”

Nora’s heart nearly stopped. She didn’t have room for new revelations, but here was another staring her in the face. This woman she had known most of her life… had she heard her correctly?

“Forgive me, Mrs. Westlake. Did you say your son?”