After breakfast, Ewan and Henrietta took a carriage into town. It pulled up outside the dingy terrace, where Henrietta had apprehended the young woman named Isobel. To get to the bottom of the lie, the house had seemed like the best place to visit.

Ewan got out first, helping his wife down the unfolded steps. He could sense the anger bristling from her. He had not enjoyed the revelation that he had been fooled, but Henrietta had taken it much harder.

“Did you tell me everything about your encounter yesterday?” he asked, as they approached the house.

She narrowed her eyes. “That wretch lied to my face. She told me she had lost a child. I felt sorry for her, for heaven’s sake! I even offered her my apologies for the tragedy she had endured, and all the while she was lying through her teeth.”

Ah, so that’s what has wounded her so deeply. He had come to realize that Henrietta felt things in a much more poignant way than most people. He supposed it was part of her difference—the unique demeanor that made her so intriguing and delightful. It pained him to see that it had been used against her, for he knew that was how people became hardened. He did not wish that for her.

Henrietta brushed past him and rapped hard on the door.

Silence echoed.

“Oh no you don’t,” she mumbled under her breath, as she knocked again. She did not stop, though nobody came to answer the door.

Her cheeks were quite scarlet by the time Ewan stepped to the side and peered in through the ground-floor window. A heavy drape hung across the interior, but a slender chink allowed him to see into the room beyond. If anyone had lived here, they had abandoned it. There was no furniture to speak of, and it looked as though the inhabitants had left in a hurry, judging by the mess that lay scattered about the place.

“Will you stop all that banging!” A woman’s face appeared around the neighboring doorway.

“Excuse me, do you know what happened to the young woman who was living here?” Ewan asked, hoping to diffuse the situation before Henrietta started ranting.

“Left last night in the wee hours. Caused an awful ruckus, just like your wife there,” the woman retorted unpleasantly.

“Did they leave a forwarding address?”

The woman snorted. “You’re not in the home counties now, Sir. Wouldn’t be surprised if they were never heard from again.”

“They?”

“Yeah, that woman and the kid she had with her.”

Ewan turned to Henrietta, who had ceased her banging. “A child?”

“Might have been two children. Hard to tell in the dead of night. All I know is, there was someone squalling in that house. Good riddance to them, I say.”

“Thank you. Sorry for disturbing you,” Ewan said, before grasping Henrietta’s hand and bundling her into the carriage.

“She was an accomplice!” Henrietta hissed, as the carriage set off towards the Old Bell. “I was foolish enough to believe her, and now she has vanished into the ether.”

“You must not be so hard on yourself.” Ewan squeezed her hand tightly.

“How can I not be, when she has escaped? She might have held the key to all of this, and now she has gone.” She shook her head angrily. “Evidently, she is the one who has been passing all of this information to Mr. Booth. Why, she might have even come into the inn, and I would not have noticed her.”

“Do you think so?”

Henrietta shrugged. “Well, now we will never know. She must have told Mr. Booth of my visit, and he must have spirited her away. We have been hoist by our own petard, my Lord Marquess.”

“We have the ball, Henrietta. We will catch this devil in action, I promise you.”

“Then we must endeavor to be careful of what we say, no matter where we are,” she insisted. “I shall tell Mother and Father not to breathe a word of our plan to anyone, aside from Papa’s men, and to only speak of it in whispers. Yes, and I must ensure that Papa’s men are stationed far from town, so that nobody will suspect anything. You and I must do the same thing—we must only speak of this to one another and in hushed tones.”

He smiled. “We can whisper of it when we are curled up in one another’s arms.”

Her expression softened. “I believe you are right about protecting me in the night, my Lord Marquess. It would be far better if we were overly cautious in such matters, rather than finding myself attacked whilst I slumber. I should welcome your evening company. Although… may I speak freely?”

“We have already done away with that rule, Henrietta. You know you may say whatever you please to me.”

“I should prefer it if we keep that first promise,” she said quietly. “I am not a worldly woman, and I do not know the ways of marital union. I rather like to be kissed by you, but that is where it must end. I hope you understand?”

He nodded. “I understand, Henrietta.”

In truth, the thought of Henrietta ever being with child left a stark icicle of terror in his heart. He had lost Patricia and their son to childbirth. He would not lose Henrietta as well, not if he could prevent it.

“Now, do we ask Lord Averson to look into this mysterious woman?” Henrietta went on, her cheeks flushed pink. He imagined her picturing them curled up in one another’s arms, fast asleep, and the thought brought him a bittersweet happiness.

“That might arouse suspicion in Mr. Booth, do you not think?”

She tapped her chin. “Hm, I suspect you may be right, although I should dearly like to know who this Isobel is. She must be tied to Mr. Booth in some way.”

“We may discover it once we capture the wretch.”

“You are quite right. We must be patient in our endeavors.”

He held out his hand. “May I take you for luncheon?”

“I should like that very much.”

Clambering back into the carriage, they set off for the small restaurant where they had spent their first day together here. Ewan liked the place very much, the warmth inviting. It was made all the more delightful by Henrietta’s presence. Although he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with her, the heart wanted what it wanted, and it was striving for her. He would never forget Patricia, but perhaps it was time he left grief behind him. After all, nobody could remain in love with a ghost, who could no longer love back.

“This is pleasant, is it not?” Ewan asked, as he sipped his cup of tea.

“This is perfection,” Henrietta replied.

Just then, the bell above the door tinkled, and a figure walked in. Ewan looked up in surprise; he had not expected to see Gerome, though he had mentioned that he might pop into this particular establishment before he headed back to the Old Bell. He could not imagine what had brought the fellow here.

“Gerome?” he said.

“Ah, My Lord, I had hoped to find you here,” he replied, catching his breath. “An urgent message came for you by express rider, and I thought it best to deliver the note as soon as possible. The rider was most insistent that you be given this right away.”

Ewan frowned. “Me?”

“Yes, My Lord.” With a grim expression, Gerome handed a letter to his master and dipped in a low bow. “I hope you do not mind my intrusion. Indeed, I am very sorry for it. Although, whilst I am here, I may tell you that your dress will be ready for the ball, My Lady. The seamstress is working all hours to have it made in time. Also, your tickets have been purchased.”

“Very good, Gerome.” Ewan smiled.

“Thank you, My Lord. Might I request permission to take my leave?”

Ewan nodded. “Certainly.” Gerome turned to leave, but Ewan called him back. “Actually, there is one more thing.”

“Yes, My Lord?”

“Have you seen Mr. and Mrs. Oliver this morning, after we finished breakfast?”

“Yes, My Lord. They have taken a turn along the promenade, by all accounts. Mrs. Oliver looked quite unwell. Do you think I ought to send for a physician?”

Henrietta shook her head. “She has troublesome nerves from time to time, Gerome. I am certain she will be well enough in a few days.”

Ewan caught the conspiratorial glance in his wife’s eyes, knowing what she meant. The ball was to take place in several days’ time, and once it was over, Henrietta’s mother would be at peace again. Mr. Booth would be dealt with, and all of this unpleasantness would be over. Personally, I cannot wait for such a time, when this is no longer looming over us.

“Very good, My Lady. Please do ask if she requires any assistance, as they did not appear to bring any staff with them.” He bowed his head. “May I depart, My Lord?”

“Yes, thank you. Did you happen to bring a white-tie with you, that I may wear for the ball?” Ewan asked distractedly. The beautiful seascape had caught his eye, his gaze drifting towards the turbulent, gray-green sea.

“I did, My Lord,” he replied.

“Splendid, then I shall look forward to wearing it.”

“Enjoy your luncheon, My Lord, My Lady. I will take my leave of you now. I have taken up enough of your time,” Gerome said, dipping his head one last time before Ewan excused him.

With the departure of his manservant, Ewan turned to the letter. It bore a plain seal with no insignia, giving no indication as to who it could be from. If the writer sent this by express rider, then it must be important. Without hesitation, he opened it and began to read. His eyes widened with every word he took in, his blood running cold:

Lord Peterborough,

If you cannot control your wife, then you must not be surprised when others are forced to intercede on your behalf. You cannot keep her safe, no matter what you may think. I will strike when you least expect it, you may be sure of that.

Warm Regards,

A Friend

“It is one of those letters,” Ewan said, anger spiking in his heart.

Henrietta gasped. “Oh, dear, what does it say?”

He turned the letter around and showed it to her, watching her face as it morphed into a mask of horror. Now, it looked as though he was being targeted, alongside Henrietta and her father.

It was only a matter of time until this wretch involved me.

“What do you think it means?” she asked, her lip trembling.

“I think it means that I will have to watch over you, every hour of every day until we bring this man to justice,” Ewan replied firmly, reaching out to touch her hand. He smiled to reassure her, though he felt a grip of fear in his chest. Mr. Booth meant business, and it frightened Ewan to his core. He could not bear the idea of losing Henrietta, not now. He had already lost so much. Please, no more, I beg of you. I cannot lose her, too.

“Do you think he knows about the ball yet?” Henrietta wondered.

Ewan paused in thought. “From the letter, it would appear he has some plan in mind. Fortunately for us, he does not yet know what our plans are. He shall be in for a harsh surprise, if he tries to harm you at the ball. Your father’s men and I will see to that.”

“What would I do without you, My Lord?” A nervous smile edged onto her lips.

“You are mistaken, My Lady. It is, what would I do without you? Your mind is more voracious than any man I know, and sharper than a pin. Indeed, we would not even have such a plan if it were not for you.”

She chuckled. “It is my physician’s mind, turning its attention elsewhere until I may become such a person.”

“I wish it well in its endeavors. Not only with this plan, but with your future letters to the medical establishments of our nation. They cannot ignore you forever,” he said with encouragement.

“So, you have changed your mind? You believe I can achieve my future hopes?”

He shrugged casually. “Right now, I believe you are capable of anything you set your mind to. Becoming a physician is not excluded, though I would urge you not to use my name again.”

“I will not. Otherwise, the victory would not be as sweet.”

“You are quite right. Now, are you finished with your luncheon? Shall we return to the Old Bell, or would you care to walk along the promenade?”

She smiled. “A walk sounds wonderful. I need some exertion to take my mind off that letter.”

“It troubles you?” It troubles me.

“Somewhat, though it is no more worrying than the letters that my father and I received. Mr. Booth is set in his decisions, and we cannot change that. All we may do is stop him, and we have a means to do it. There is no use in distressing myself until the day of the ball comes.”

Ewan chuckled softly. “You are as wise as you are beautiful, My Lady.”

“Then I must not be very fair,” she teased.

“You are mistaken, My Lady. You are very fair indeed.”

A few minutes later, they found themselves wandering along the promenade, Henrietta’s hand looped through his arm. The weather was not particularly fine, with a light spray beginning to spatter down from the pale clouds overhead, but they did not mind. They were content to walk together, regardless of the weather. Indeed, it could have been snowing and Ewan would not have cared. Henrietta had a way of making people forget their woes.

The sea crashed and lurched to the left of them as they walked, with seagulls wheeling above. Fishing boats bobbed precariously way out toward the horizon, and other pedestrians pulled their collars tighter to keep out the chill. Winter was firmly on its way, though the last breaths of autumn had yet to be exhaled. A few bronzed leaves lingered on the trees, and the frost melted quickly of a morning.

“It is beautiful here,” Henrietta sighed, her gaze fixed on the turbulent waters.

“It is a harsh beauty at times, but yes… it is rather lovely.” Ewan smiled down at her, admired her profile as she wandered along contentedly. He liked to see her at peace, which had been a rarer occasion of late, with all these letters arriving with such ominous messages.

Just as Ewan was about to suggest they turn back, Henrietta froze beside him. Her eyes were large, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Ewan followed her line of sight, wondering what had stunned her with such immediacy.

There, loitering beside one of the carts selling roasted hazelnuts, stood Isobel Booth. Or, whoever she truly is. The woman turned, her expression morphing into one of fear as she noticed Ewan and Henrietta. Without warning, she turned and ran, sprinting away before either of them could chase after her.

“Who is she?” Henrietta rasped, her breath ragged.

“I do not know, My Lady, but I do know one thing.”

“What is that?”

“The innocent do not run.”