That afternoon, Ewan left Henrietta to rest in her chambers and set off for Lord Averson’s residence. He did not want to put his wife in a box, but he could not quite forgive her for her recent audacity. Not yet, anyway. She would have to learn that she could not simply use his name in order to achieve her dreams, nor could she lie her way into such a position.

In truth, the discovery of the letters had made him question just how much he believed in her future hopes. Could a woman really ever become a physician? Even if she managed to gain a place at one of these institutions, would they ever take her seriously? He could not think of a single gentleman in his acquaintanceship who would be healed by a woman.

Perhaps, I am not as liberal as I made her believe.

He wanted her to have what she desired from life, but maybe seeking to become a physician was a step too far—a hurdle that not even Henrietta could overcome. Then again, if anyone were to prove the old goats at these institutions wrong, it would be my wife. She has already proven to be rather formidable and endlessly determined. He thought about her sitting in the dining hall in the ruined bridal gown and smiled at the memory.

He pulled up outside the Averson residence twenty minutes later, and walked up to the door. The butler answered, instructing him to wait in the drawing room as Lord Averson was fetched.

Through a sliver of a gap in the doorway to the drawing room, Ewan caught sight of Mr. Booth walking across the entrance hall. The very sight of him made Ewan’s blood boil. No man threatens my wife. No man.

“Ewan, my dear man, what brings you to my abode on this gloomy afternoon?” Lord Averson strode into the room. He looked tired with vivid dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Averson,” Ewan replied. “I thought I’d drop in on you, as I have a few amendments to make to our previous conversation. I see you have yet to rid your household of Mr. Booth?”

Lord Averson pulled a face. “In truth, I do so despise confrontation. I thought I would wait a few days before ridding myself of the man. We’re due to return to town at the end of next week—I saw no reason to release him prior to that. I hope you will forgive me?”

“Actually, I came to request that you keep him in your employ a while longer.”

“Has there been some change of heart? Were you mistaken?”

“Sadly not, although there have been some circumstantial alterations.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

Ewan shook his head. “I am afraid I cannot. Indeed, I was wondering if I might have a word with him myself to try and clarify the situation.”

“Why, certainly.”

“I am sorry, Averson, you must think me terribly rude. Are you well? Are you suffering any continuing ailments?” Ewan said, realizing he had not mentioned the poor fellow’s prior trauma. Had it not been for Averson’s quick thinking, Henrietta could well have been crushed by the falling masonry. He owed him a great debt of gratitude.

Lord Averson flashed a boyish grin. “I may not be as spry as I once was, but I do have a certain resilience. I am as you see me—a little fatigued, but no less worse-for-wear. It was something of a shock to the system, but I am recovering. And your wife?”

“The incident outside the theater does not continue to trouble her, which is one small consolation in all of this bedlam,” he said. “Tell me something, Averson—where was your man around noon today?”

Lord Averson frowned deeply. “Do you know… I cannot tell you. I would have to speak with the rest of the household, though I do not know if he was here, not for certain. Might I fetch him in, so you may ask him yourself?”

“Yes, if you would be so kind,” Ewan replied. “In the meantime, might you do that for me, and ask your household about his whereabouts today?”

“Of course, my good man. Do you fear foul play?”

“I cannot be certain.”

A dark thought had occurred to Ewan as he had helped his wife back to the Old Bell. The gunshots going off when they had, and so close, had been rather coincidental. Almost too coincidental. Indeed, the worry had set in more insistently on the journey over to Averson’s house. He did not like to admit it, but the entire incident with the horse smarted of a plot. A well-schemed one, made to look like an accident.

But who was the target?

The note suggested Henrietta, but Ewan was starting to wonder if he was part of the bigger picture, another target with which to make Henrietta suffer. After all, very few people knew that he and Henrietta were now living in a curious sort of harmony. One of those, someone close to insider knowledge, was Mr. Booth. If he now knew that Henrietta stood to lose something if anything happened to Ewan, then he would utilize that.

It makes perfect sense. Mr. Booth will have heard the news of our unexpected contentment from Averson, thus putting my name on the proverbial strike-list. Against all odds, it would appear I have become something that Henrietta would find painful to lose. The evil cretin must have known. Either that, or he intended to wound Henrietta, and ended up spooking the horse instead. Whichever truth turned out to be the real one, neither avenue made Ewan feel particularly good. Each one put Henrietta in harm’s way and he would not permit that.

Henrietta paced her chambers in exasperation. Her side ached but that was not what troubled her. Instead, she thought about Ewan and the way he had dismissed her in such a cold manner. He had demanded she stay behind whilst he went to visit Lord Averson, and she had decided to bear a grudge against him until a suitable apology was made.

I may be waiting an extraordinarily long time.

What irked her the most was the superior way in which he had chastised her for her actions, making her feel small and foolish. Had she not gained the right to utilize his name after they had made their marriage vows? Was that not a small price to pay for being forced into a union she had not asked for?

Yes, I may like him well enough now in my own way, but it may not have turned out this way. What if he and I had detested one another? What then?

With stubborn determination, she crossed the room to the desk on the far side and sat down. Fresh vellum and ink had been laid out by the chambermaids. Picking up one of the newly-carved quills, she dipped the nib into the inkwell and laid it to the thick, cream paper.

“You will not instruct me upon what I can and cannot do,” she muttered bitterly as she began to write. Ewan had thrown the remaining letters into the fire, to ensure she did not simply attempt to post them again. Not that such an action will do anything to stop me.

In her impeccable hand, she repeated the sentiments she had previously included in the letters that had been cast into the flames. The words flowed smoothly onto the page, like well-remembered acquaintances. However, as she reached the end of the first piece of correspondence, she paused. A small dot of ink began to spread out beneath the nib.

H. Oliver Clark, that is all you need to write. They will not know if you are a gentleman or a lady. It is exceedingly simple. Come on, Henrietta, you must write it.

And yet, she could not. Deep down, a part of her knew that Ewan was right. If she wanted to become a physician, then she was going to have to do it under her own steam. It would not be easy, and she understood that she would continue to face rejection, but it had to be on her terms. Otherwise, it would seem a hollow victory in the future. If you succeed at all in your endeavors, that is.

Slowly, she finished the letter: Lady Henrietta Oliver, Marchioness of Peterborough.

“Is this what you would have me do, Lord Marquess?” she said aloud, though he was not there to hear her. “Will this cause less damage to your reputation, once these letters are read?”

Somehow, she doubted it.

Once the letters were complete, she picked them up and carried them downstairs to Mr. Chambers. He stood by the postbox, sifting through several stacks of mail that were both incoming and outgoing. Good, I have not missed the afternoon’s post.

“Ah, Lady Peterborough, what a pleasant surprise,” he said in his kindly manner. “Lord Peterborough said you would remain abed for the rest of the afternoon, and that I was to send your supper to you if he had not returned by then. Are you feeling much better?”

She smiled. “A great deal better, thank you.”

“Apologies once again for the mishap with the post. I trust Lord Peterborough delivered them to you?”

“He did. In fact, I looked into the addresses once again and realized that I was mistaken on many of them. I have corrected the problem. As such, if you would be a dear, might you put these out for the afternoon’s post?”

He looked somewhat sheepish. “Your husband has requested that I hold any letters that you bring to me, Lady Peterborough.”

“Has he, indeed?” A muscle twitched in her jaw, her teeth gritted in annoyance. How dare he.

“Yes, My Lady.”

“Very well, then I shall have to take them into town myself,” Henrietta replied with fierce defiance. Her eyes challenged Mr. Chambers to try and stop her.

“Oh no, My Lady, do not trouble yourself with such a strenuous endeavor. If you leave them with me, I will see to it that they find their way into the afternoon post.”

She flashed him a saccharine smile. “I do not think so, Mr. Chambers. I shall see to this myself, fear not.” Without another word, she returned upstairs to fetch her coat before making her way out of the Old Bell. At the main entrance, Mr. Chambers looked as though he was about to step out and hold her back, but her furious expression evidently made him think twice.

Instead, it was another figure that prompted her to halt in her tracks. Gerome emerged from the smoking parlor to the right-hand side of the main hallway, a concerned expression on his face.

“Lady Peterborough, I did not expect you back so soon,” he said.

“No, neither did I,” she admitted, relieved to have an ally against Mr. Chambers. “There was a minor incident at luncheon which forced us to return prematurely.”

“An incident, My Lady?”

“Yes, a trifling thing. Gunshots spooked the horse and I was thrown to the ground.”

He gasped in horror. “Are you quite well? Shall I send for the physician?”

“There is no need, Gerome, though I thank you for your kind offer.”

“Surely, you should take to your chambers after such a scare?”

Henrietta shrugged. “Perhaps, but I have some urgent business to attend to before I can attempt to rest.”

“Anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you venturing into town? Shall I accompany you? I am not an entirely appropriate chaperone, I realize, but it is better than no chaperone.”

“I am a married woman, Gerome, I shall do quite well on my own,” she replied, with a soft laugh. “If the Lord Marquess returns before I do, please let him know that I have gone on some errands. He will understand your meaning.”

He dipped his head in a bow. “Very well, My Lady. Please, do take care on your travels. And please, do tell his Lordship that I attempted to prevent you. I believe that is what he will prefer to hear.”

“I shall, Gerome.” With a warm smile, she breezed past him and out of the door.

Outside, a cold wind swept across the clifftop, snatching at her long hair as she struggled to keep her hat on top of her head. Several carriages waited at the side of the road. Walking up to the first one, she smiled at the driver.

“To the Scarborough postal office, if you please,” she said.

“Of course, My Lady.” He tipped his cap and helped her up into the carriage, before leaping onto the box. Henrietta sat back on the velveteen squabs and rested her head against the window as the carriage trundled away.

“You will not get between me and my dream, Lord Marquess,” she mumbled to herself as the beautiful seascape spread out beyond the pane. How she adored the seaside. And it had all started out with such promise.

As they headed into town, her mind drifted back to the way she had been thrown from the horse. A jolt in her ribs served as an additional reminder. In truth, she knew she ought to have stayed abed, as instructed, but she was not the type of woman to be told what to do. Her father had not succeeded, and neither would her husband. Not if she could help it.

However, she couldn’t help but recall the grim thought that had failed to abandon her mind. Now, more than ever, she was certain that her accident had been anything but accidental.

As it replayed in her head, she recounted how close the shots had been. They had not been the distant fire of hunters’ rifles. No, indeed, she and Ewan had not been near enough to the woodland for it to be hunters firing their weapons.

Seth is responsible for this, I am sure of it. He hates me enough to see me injured in any number of despicable ways. But does he hate me enough to see me die at his hand?

That was the one part that she was struggling to piece together. Surely, a dismissal from a household did not equal death as revenge. Then again, he had always been somewhat unhinged. Perhaps, he did have that level of darkness within him, though it had been buried deep all these years.

Now, Henrietta had given him an excuse to release it. Well, two may play at such a game. If Ewan sought to entrap Mr. Booth into making a confession, there was no way that Henrietta was not going to be present. It was her life that had been threatened, and she would see him pay for his trespasses against her.