LITMIR.BIZ

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A little. Far better than he could know her.

      The child who had known Richard was gone beyond recall, as if a knife had slashed the thread of her life leaving it in two utterly separate pieces. Short useless pieces that could never be woven back into the pattern.

      No one knew her now. Sometimes she wished she didn’t know herself. There was no point wondering about Richard Blakehurst. He was no concern of hers. She thrust the thoughts away and went back to her letter. That was how she had learnt to manage. One thing at a time; concentrate on the task at hand.

      The only sound within the parlour was the scratching of Thea’s pen as she concentrated on manufacturing neat, ladylike sentences for Aunt Mary.

      A light tap at the door disturbed her.

      ‘Yes?’

      The door opened and Myles came in. ‘A note for you, miss.’

      ‘Oh. Thank you, Myles.’

      She took the note with a smile.

      ‘Will that be all, miss?’

      ‘Yes, thank you. I’ll ring if I need to send a reply.’

      As the door closed behind the butler, Thea looked at the note. A single sheet folded once and sealed with a plain seal. It was directed to Miss Winslow, Arnsworth House, in clumsy, ill-formed capitals. Thea frowned, broke the seal and opened the note.

      Time stood still and her veins congealed as the single word slashed her hard-won peace to shreds: SLUT.

      Who? Who?

      How long she sat staring at the note, she had no idea, but a deep voice wrenched her out of the nightmare with a shock like icy water.

      ‘What the deuce have you got here?’

      The writing box hit the floor, accompanied by the crash of splintering glass and china as the inkpot and teacup broke. Thea found herself on her feet, every sense at full stretch, one fist clenched. Ready to fight.

      Richard’s shocked face steadied her. ‘It’s only me, Thea.’ Then, ‘Damn! Stay still!’

      He strode towards her, his expression fiercely intent.

      Despite herself, she flinched, stepping back.

      ‘Damn it, woman! I said to stay still!’ he roared.

      She froze in sheer outrage, and he was beside her, his booted feet crunching on the ruins of the inkpot and teacup.

      And gasped as she was lifted bodily with ease and dumped back on the sofa with a marked lack of ceremony.

      ‘And stay there,’ he growled, ‘while I send for someone to clear this up. Those slippers won’t protect you from a shard of glass!’

      She looked down. Broken glass and china sat in the lake of spilled ink and tea soaking into the Turkey carpet. And with them the anonymous note.

      Sanity flooded back in some measure, but the violence of her reaction still shook her. ‘I … I didn’t hear you come in.’ She leaned forward and reached for the paper.

      His mouth quirked. ‘Obviously.’ And before she could stop him, he had bent down for the note. ‘Here you—’ it was open, face up—’Good God!’ he exclaimed, staring at the note.

      Then he looked up and Thea’s stomach turned over as she met his eyes. Fury, sheer protective fury blazed there.

      Oh, God! If Richard tried to find out …

      For a moment the shocked silence held, then Richard spoke, scarcely recognising his own voice, soft, deadly. ‘Who the devil sent you this?’ He forced himself to consider the matter logically, controlling the choking rage. Last night’s note had disgusted him, but this! His fingers shook in the effort not to shred the note.

      He turned it over. Like his, the seal had been plain, the writing consisted of clumsy and ill-formed capitals … and directed very clearly to Thea. This piece of … of filth had been intended for her. As last night’s note had been directed straight to him. His fist clenched, crushing the note. His own note he might have ignored, but if he ever found out who had sent this—he’d serve them the same way. Slowly.

      ‘Who sent it?’ he repeated.

      ‘I don’t know.’ There was not the least tremor in her voice now and her eyes were steady and clear. ‘Myles brought it in. It’s nothing to fuss about, Richard. Just foolish spite.’ She essayed a faint laugh. ‘No doubt the rumours of my fortune inspired it. I’d burn it, but the fire isn’t lit.’

      Undoubtedly the fire was where it belonged. If he had not been watching her for a moment before he spoke and startled her, he might have believed her not to be upset. But he had seen the pallor of her face as she stared at the note, seen her hands trembling. She had been so lost in whatever emotion had gripped her that she had not even heard him enter the room. And now she was trying to hide it from him.

      Surely a piece of casual spite would not strike to the heart like that? She had looked devastated. Had she heard the whispers the previous night? Should he mention his own note? Common sense said he should. But …

      ‘Do you receive many letters like that?’

      ‘No! Give it back, Richard. I’ll burn it later.’

      ‘I’ll deal with it,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you touching it again.’ The thought of a piece of vileness like this coming anywhere near her offended him. He put the crumpled note in his pocket.

      Flushing, she met his gaze. ‘I thought you were out.’

      As an attempt to change the subject it was pitiful. ‘I came home,’ he said. ‘Thea, that note—’

      ‘Please—no,’ she interrupted. ‘I know what you would say—that I ought to find out who sent it, but really, Richard, it doesn’t matter. Just burn it for me. It’s just someone … someone who doesn’t like me, I suppose. Someone … very unhappy.’

      ‘How do you work that out?’ he growled.

      Her eyes dropped. ‘Oh, well … can you imagine a happy person sending a note like that?’

      He couldn’t, of course. There were times when feminine intuition was absolutely irrefutable. Only he could have sworn she meant something far more specific. Something personal. That she knew who had sent it, or at least suspected.

      ‘Leave it, Richard,’ she urged. ‘There’s no point making a fuss. It was horrid and I admit gave me quite a shock, but that’s all.’ She smiled at him, eyes steady. ‘What brought you in here?’

      Another attempt to change the subject.

      He didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Every instinct told him that Thea was deeply shaken, that her increasing calm was a façade, that if she knew of the note he had received she would be even more upset. For now he would accept her reticence. It seemed more important to distract her from the vile note. And definitely more important to distract her from wondering what he might do about it.

      ‘What brought me in here?’ He smiled. ‘Myles told me you were here and he swears that Almeria is out.’ The mess of ink and tea caught his eye and he reached out to ring the bell. ‘So I thought it would be safe to have a game of chess without giving her any encouragement.’

      ‘Chess? In here? Do you … do you think that’s wise?’ Suddenly self-conscious, she said, ‘If Lady Arnsworth has some idea … that is, that we … that we—’

      She broke off and Richard had to suppress a grin.

      ‘That we might make a match of it?’ he suggested helpfully. ‘So she’s spoken to you about it, has she?’

      She flushed. ‘She didn’t precisely say anything to me. Only …’

      Richard laughed. ‘Didn’t she? You escaped lightly. She said a great deal to me.

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