Chapter 6
Six
T he light pouring through the drawing room windows highlighted the planes of Selina's face as she leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Lord Burner did not write that letter, James. I am certain of it."
James's gaze met hers. "How can you be so certain, Selina?"
Her heart quickened at his use of her name. She pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the matter at hand.
"He denied writing it when I paid a call on him this afternoon. The letter genuinely puzzled him. Besides, I have seen examples of his penmanship before. The handwriting in the letter is similar, but not identical. Someone went to great lengths to imitate his style, but the deception is clear upon close inspection. Add to that the smudges."
James nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "This confirms my suspicions that we are dealing with a far more intricate plot than we first imagined. You must be carful."
Selina's mind raced, recalling the events of the past. The phaeton race, Nile's death, the mysterious letter—all of it seemed to be connected by an invisible thread she could not quite grasp.
"We have to delve deeper," she insisted, her voice low and urgent. "There are too many unanswered questions surrounding my husband's death. I must have justice for Nile. I can not rest until I do."
“I am pleased that you no longer suspect me.” James's expression darkened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I have a suspicion as to the true culprit. Though you may not like what I have to say."
Selina's breath caught in her throat. "Tell me," she demanded, steeling herself for whatever revelation he might offer.
"I have been observing Lord Hawthorne closely," James began, his words measured. "His behavior has been... disconcerting, to say the least. The way he changes topics abruptly when certain matters arise, how he averts his gaze when pressed for details—it all points to a man with something to hide."
Selina felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath her. Lord Hawthorne? The charming, respected pillar of society who had been so attentive after Nile's death? Could it be?
"But he was so concerned," she murmured, more to herself than to James. "He called on me frequently, offering condolences and support. He was a friend to my husband and to me."
James's eyes flashed with something akin to jealousy, but it was gone in an instant. "Perhaps that very attentiveness should have been our first clue. A guilty conscience often manifests as excessive kindness."
Selina's mind whirled with memories of Lord Hawthorne's visits, his solicitous manner, his gentle inquiries about her welfare. Had it all been a facade? A ploy to keep her from suspecting his involvement in Nile's death?
"I dismissed his actions as those of a concerned friend," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "But now... now I cannot help but question everything. But what would his motive be? Why would he murder a man he called a friend? "
“I do not know, but you yourself just called his actions odd.” He leaned closer, his proximity sending a tantalizing shiver down her spine. "Trust your instincts, my lady."
She met his gaze, acutely aware of the tension crackling between them. It mirrored the intensity of their shared purpose, the drive to uncover the truth no matter the cost.
"What do you propose we do next?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
James's eyes glittered with determination. "We continue our investigation, but with a new focus. Lord Hawthorne may hold the key to unraveling this entire mystery."
She nodded. “Perhaps I should invite him for tea?”
“No. I do not wish to place you in danger. Not if I can help it.”
Selina nodded. Whatever came next, she knew she could face it with James by her side. The thought both thrilled and terrified her, a reminder of the dangerous game they were playing—not just with their lives, but with their hearts as well.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the worn leather volumes on the side table. She lifted them, feeling the weight of secrets and potential revelations within their pages. With a deep breath, she extended the books to James, her hazel eyes meeting his warm, blue gaze.
"These are Nile's ledgers," she said softly. "I... I trust you with them, James. Perhaps your keen eye will uncover something I have missed."
He accepted the books, his hands brushing against hers for a fleeting moment. The touch sent a jolt of longing through Selina's body, and she quickly withdrew, her cheeks flushed.
"Thank you, Selina," he murmured, his gaze never leaving her face. "Your trust means more than you know."
She nodded, her heart racing. "I should inform Charlotte and Beatrice of your continued presence. They will be wondering..."
"Of course," James replied, already opening the first ledger. "I will begin my examination while you tend to your guests."
As Selina turned to leave the drawing room, she cast one last glance at James. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his fingers tracing the lines of text with careful precision. The sight of him so engrossed in her late husband's affairs stirred a confusing mix of emotions within her—sorrow, anger, and a tenderness she fought against welcoming.
Shaking off the unwelcome feelings, Selina made her way to the parlor, where she knew her friends would be waiting. As expected, Charlotte and Beatrice wore matching expressions of concern. Both abandoning their conversation to look up at her with worried gazes.
"Selina, darling," Charlotte began, her voice soft and worried. "Is everything alright? Lord Blackwood has been here for quite some time."
Bea, ever the more direct of the two, arched an eyebrow. "Indeed. One might wonder at the propriety of such a lengthy private audience."
Selina took a steadying breath. "I assure you both, there is no cause for alarm. Lord Blackwood is... assisting me with some matters related to Nile's death."
"But you suspect him of being responsible for Nile’s death," Bea said, her green eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"I may have been too hasty in pointing my finger at Jame…Lord Blackwood. He has unique insights that I find helpful," Selina replied, trying to keep her vo ice even. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But I promise you, all is well."
Charlotte and Beatrice exchanged glances, their reluctance clear. Finally, Charlotte spoke, "If you are certain, Selina. But do be careful."
"Indeed," Bea agreed, though her tone suggested otherwise. "Do be careful, darling. Men like Lord Blackwood can be... dangerous. Even if he is not the one responsible for Nile’s death."
Selina nodded, suppressing a shiver at Bea's words. If only they knew the half of it. But of course she would not tell them about how he had kissed her or how she longed for his touch. Leastwise, not right now. She offered them what she hoped was a reassuring smile and said, "Thank you both. Now, if you will excuse me..."
After her friends said their farewells and departed, Selina leaned against the parlor door, her mind racing. The weight of her husband’s death and her growing feelings for James—threatened to overwhelm her. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and returned to the drawing room, where James awaited with whatever truths the ledgers might reveal.
Selina entered the drawing room to find James hunched over the ledgers, his brow furrowed in concentration. The late afternoon light cast dramatic shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline. She hesitated, struck by the intensity of his focus.
"Have you found anything of note?" she inquired.
James looked up, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers. "Indeed, I have. And I am afraid it is rather... unsettling."
Selina's heart quickened as she moved closer, the rustle of her silk gown loud in the tense silence. "Tell me," she urged.
He ran a hand through his dark hair. "There is a record here of a substantial business deal between Lord Hollyfield and Lord Hawthorne. It appears Hawthorne owes—or rather, owed—Lord Hollyfield a significant sum."
Selina's breath caught in her throat. "How significant?"
"Enough to ruin a man, even one of Hawthorne's standing," James replied grimly.
The implications of this revelation crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her legs suddenly weak, she sank into the nearest chair, her mind reeling. "Good God," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Lord Hawthorne... he visited so often after Nile's death. He seemed so concerned, so... genuine. "
James's expression softened with sympathy. "The most dangerous among us often wear the most convincing disguise."
Selina clenched her hands in her lap, her knuckles white against the deep burgundy of her gown. "To think, all this time... he might have had a hand in Nile's death. And I welcomed him into my home, accepted his condolences! Treated him as a dear friend."
"We must not jump to conclusions," James cautioned, though his tone suggested he believed otherwise. "But this certainly provides a compelling motive. Who is the executor or Lord Hollyfield’s will?"
“I am,” she said, an icy chill coming over her. Selina's mind raced, recalling every interaction with Lord Hawthorne since her husband's death. His solicitous manner, his frequent visits, his subtle inquiries about the estate's affairs, about her—all took on a sinister new light.
"I have been such a fool," she murmured, anger and shame coloring her cheeks. “I have been so focused on revenge and finding my target that I latched onto you being the culprit and turned a blind eye to Lord Hawthorne’s overzealous interest in me and the estate. ”
James moved to kneel before her, taking her trembling hands in his. "No, Selina. You have been a woman in mourning, one who sought answers for you late husband. There is no shame in that. Indeed, Hollyfield was a lucky man."
His touch, warm and reassuring, anchored her amid the storm of her emotions. She met his gaze, finding strength in the determination she saw there.
"If this is true, he must pay. What do we do now?" she asked, her voice steadier. “How do we prove his involvement?”
James's lips curved into a grim smile. "Now, my dear, I pay Lord Hawthorne a visit. It is high time we had a frank discussion about his... financial obligations."
Selina's breath caught in her throat as she realized how close James was. His hands still enveloped hers, their warmth seeping into her skin. She found herself studying the lines of his face, the determined set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through her defenses.
"I... yes, of course," she stammered, trying to regain her composure. "But you will not go alone. I am coming along, for this is my fight. We must confront him together. And I wish to see him pay more than just this debt. I want revenge. I want to see him suffer for what he has done."
James's thumb traced a small circle on the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her arm. He seemed to realize their proximity at the same moment, his eyes widening slightly before he released her hands and stood.
"My apologies, Lady Hollyfield," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "I forgot myself for a moment."
Selina rose as well, smoothing her skirts to give her hands something to do. "There is no need to apologize."
She turned away, ostensibly to gather the ledgers, but truly to hide the flush she felt creeping up her neck.
"We will sort this out and if my hunch is right, I will see that justice is served," James said behind her. “You have my word.”
Selina nodded, though to her shame, her focus had shifted to James and the odd pull she felt between them. How could she feel this way, especially now? Her husband's killer was still at large, possibly the very man who had feigned friendship in her darkest hours. She should be focused solely on justice. On uncovering the truth. And yet...
She glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze. The heat in his eyes made her breath hitch, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different future, one where her heart was not torn between duty and desire.
"I should like to call on Lord Hawthorne at once," she said, forcing herself back to the task at hand. "What is our strategy?"
James pointed to an entry in the ledger. "According to these dates, the debt was called in just days before your husband's... accident. As the executor of his will, you are now able to collect on the debt. We will start there."
Selina's heart raced, a mix of shock and vindication coursing through her veins. "And if he refuses, we will call for a constable and have him removed to debtor’s prison," she declared, her voice steely with determination.
"Agreed," James replied, snapping the ledger shut. "But we must tread carefully. Hawthorne is a powerful man, and if he is indeed behind Nile's death..."
"Then we are walking into the lion's den," Selina finished, a hint of fear coloring her words.
His hand found hers, squeezing gently. The touch sent sparks through her, comforting and electrifying all at once. "We will face this together," he assured her, his gaze intense with resolve. “And I will protect you.”
With one last shared glance, they quit the drawing room and stepped out into the crisp London air, the weight of their mission hanging between them.
Her heart fluttered as they descended the steps of her townhouse, her gloved hand resting lightly on James's arm. The cobblestone street stretched before them, a path leading to potential danger and revelations. She stole a glance at his profile, admiring the determined set of his jaw.
"James," she murmured, her voice soft and smooth, "I cannot help but feel we are on the right course and that, because of it, danger lurks around the corner.”
His gaze met hers, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "I believe you are quite right, but do not fret. I have you and I will keep you safe."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, one that had little to do with the early evening breeze. Selina chastised herself silently for the flutter in her chest. This was no time for such frivolous feelings.
As they walked toward the carriage, her mind raced with possibilities. "What if Lord Hawthorne denies everything?" she pondered aloud. "We have no concrete proof, only suspicions and ledger entries."
“The ledger should be enough to get him talking. We will confront him with the information and see what he says.” James's lips curled into a wry smile. "If he denies it, then we shall have to be particularly... persuasive," he replied, his voice low and rich with promise.
She felt her cheeks warm at his tone, memories of their shared kiss flooding her senses. She pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. "And if he admits to his involvement?" she pressed. "What then?"
"Then, my dear," James said, his grip on her arm tightening ever so slightly, "we shall have justice, and perhaps..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging tantalizingly in the air between them.
Selina's breath caught in her throat. She knew she should not ask, should not encourage this dangerous flirtation between them. And yet... "Perhaps what?"
He stopped, turning to face her fully as the footman opened the carriage door. His eyes blazed with an intensity that made her knees weak. "Perhaps we might explore whatever this is budding between us, without the shadows of the past looming so large."
For a moment, Selina forgot how to breathe. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, standing on a London street, teetering on the precipice of something both exhilarating and terrifying.