Shaking her head, she put that stack down and picked up the two for Thad. She would take them down to his desk in his study. But when she pushed to her feet, the top bundle slid, the twine gave way, and she let out a small scream as she envisioned the entire stack flying free. Grabbing at it, she managed to keep all but the first two sheets in order.
Those two leaves went fluttering, the second one catching a draft from the open window and dancing before her for a moment, light winking at her through another cutout. She caught it up, tempted to frown at yet another sheet with an open design in the center of it. But the writing scratched on this one made her breath catch.
Master mask. Copy to T.L. following letter of Jan. 12
Letter of January…gasping, she bounced to her feet and flew down the stairs, her aim Thad’s study. This, she knew, was where he kept the letter from her father. The one dated the twelfth of January. He had told her that any time she wanted to read it again, she had only to ask and he would unlock…
“Blast.” She tried the drawers of his desk, but all were secured. And the chime of the clock on the mantel made her spin around with wide eyes. How had two hours flown by already? She was late for her rendezvous with him; she certainly hadn’t the time to search for a key. Which he likely carried on his person anyway, knowing him.
Well, then. She would find her husband first and then they could solve this puzzle together. The mask still in hand, she turned on silent slippers and left the study to go down the hall and out the door.
And straight into the arms never meant to hold her, with the mocking smile of her worst enemy right behind.
Thirty
Gwyneth! My darling.” Arthur pulled her tight against him, not caring that they were on a public street with her uncle and Scrubs as an audience. The relief, the utter joy that pounded through him overcame any other thoughts.
Until he realized, when she pulled free, that she was as stiff as a saber, and her wide eyes were latched, unblinking, upon her uncle.
Gates brushed him aside and embraced her next, though she looked just as unyielding in his arms. Shock, perhaps? That would explain the glaze over her eyes. “My darling girl. You cannot know how good it is to see you safe and well. We feared the worst.”
“You…” She must indeed be shocked, the way her words seemed to have escaped her. She swallowed, shook her head, and stepped away, her gaze flicking to Scrubs before going back to Arthur. “What are you doing here?”
Caution cast the slightest shadow on Arthur’s joy. He reached for her hands, but she took another step back. She had a crumpled piece of paper in her grip, and her face had gone so pale…
Well, she certainly hadn’t known they were looking for her and had likely given up on anyone searching her out. Arthur smiled and let his hands fall to his sides. “We have been seeking endlessly for you, my love.”
“We?” Those luminous eyes stared at him in utter disbelief.
Understandable. So far as she was aware, he scarcely knew her uncle. “Indeed. After—oh. My darling, we have bad news.” He looked over to Gates.
The man’s expression was softer than he had ever seen it as he reached out and clasped her arm. “About your father.”
She swallowed and tried again to pull away, but Gates held fast to her fisted hand, the one with the paper in it. “I know.” Her voice quaked a bit but was otherwise strong. “The news made it here eventually.”
How Arthur ached to draw her near again, to assure her that despite probably thinking herself abandoned, they had never, for one moment, given up on finding her. “I am so sorry. We looked everywhere for you, all over England and the Continent. Your uncle and I pooled our resources, and when I told him a lad at the docks had spotted you—”
“You?” A host of emotions flew through her eyes, too fleet of foot for him to follow. When they came to a rest, her face had gone blank again. She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why would you go to such trouble?”
He breathed a laugh and reached halfway for her again before stopping himself. She was too surprised to respond. He must give her a few minutes to believe her eyes and let her move toward him next. “Why would I not? You are my betrothed. I would turn over the earth itself to find you.”
“Betrothed?” Her eyes went wide. “Sir Arthur, I…I am not.”
“But of course you are.” Wishing he had made this trip alone, he edged closer so he could pitch his voice down. There was no hope Gates would not hear, of course, but perhaps the boy behind him would at least not catch it. “I asked you to marry me, and you said yes.”
Gone was the blank look, and he almost wished it back when pity took its place. “I am so sorry. It never occurred to me you would think that after I left as I did. My father—”
“Did not give his blessing. I assumed as much, but that hardly changes the fact that you had accepted.”
“Of course it would.” Her attention shifted, and she snatched at the paper Gates had just taken from her hands. “Uncle!”